#translation: not gone merely marching far away

[sailorkamino]

senator: [being anti-clone]

jedi: [casually lifts sleeve to show tattoo in honor of their battalion] what were you saying?

[thesith]

— Marching Far Away

tech x reader, implied echo x reader (she/her pronouns)

this is a one shot (1.1k)

warnings: heavy angst, hurt/comfort, death, involves the stages of grief. slight canon divergence. S2 E16 SPOILERS

notes: this fic is in tech’s POV, so be aware of that as you’re reading!

mando’a translations: cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart; yaim’ol: return, homecoming; usen’ye: go away (very rude); ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: i’m still alive, but you are dead. i remember you, so you are eternal (daily remembrance for those who have passed.)

the title is in reference to a mando’a saying, ny kyr’aduc, shi taab’echaaj’la, meaning “not gone, merely marching far away” in tribute to a dead comrade.

summary: tech watches you from afar after plan 99

“There is no time, Wrecker. Plan 99.” I reached for my blaster - a weapon I’ve become most familiar with over my time as a soldier. Though I’m proficient in many weapons, my favorite is my mind - the most dangerous weapon of them all.

Wrecker groaned at my conclusion - presumably out of frustration. “Don’t you do it, Tech.”

I sighed, knowing this was the only way to ensure their survival. The odds of us all making it out in time is 24 percent - the odds of them making it out if Plan 99 is executed jumps to a staggering 76. I know what must be done, but do they?

“When have we ever followed orders.” I stated, precisely aiming my shot to sever the hinge prohibiting their escape. I watch Wrecker, Omega, and her eyes widen at my rash decision, though one that was most honorable in my culture.

The fall isn’t as… painful, as I’d anticipated. No statistic could lead me to the conclusion of how painful it’d be to fall from 200 feet up, let alone watch my comrades' reactions. The impact comes shortly after, leaving me in a less-than optimal state.

Crying; originating from sadness. A sound I’ve gotten used to over my solitary time. From my batchmates, my younger sister, and her. God, her, what I wouldn’t give to be back in my cyar’ika’s arms safely, not having to watch her suffering from afar.

The days after my passing were evidently rough for my crew, though it should not have been - I am a soldier, meant to be expendable. Though, if the roles were reversed and it’d been any one of them, my reaction would be one and the same.

In my previous research, I discovered that the first stage of grief is denial. After much observation, I see this to be correct. Between Hunter’s “I’m waiting for Tech’s yaim’ol,” and her constant whispers of this situation not being reality, this stage is confirmed. It is… painful, for me to watch as they put themselves through this unnecessary self-inflicted torture, but they must to find themselves to be happy again. This, I suppose, I am content with, as I long for them to be satisfactory and functional without me.

I’ve found that she spends much of her time alone, which is not the most optimal way to grieve. I believe she misses me, just as I miss her - an astute observation from the past two months of watching.

When Crosshair returned to my absence, I believe it affected him as well. Though he’s in the anger stage of grief. Whenever she attempts to check up on him, despite her own longing to be alone, he sends her away with “usen’ye!”. Though I wish for him not to speak to her in that tone, I comprehend that it is just part of who he is - the prodigal brother; my twin.

She’s opening up more to my brothers, which I find to be an incredible step forward. Echo has been a support system for her in my absence, which I appreciate greatly. Though I do sense some awkwardness, it’s to be expected. She does seem a bit perturbed with my decision, which I hope will curb soon. I do not wish her to see me in a negative light.

Echo has taught her the Mando’a phrase of remembrance, which she speaks daily, multiple times a day. The “ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Tech,” falling from her lips in almost perfected Mando’a gives me pride - she is so intelligent, even in the darkest of times. I hope I will have eternal life, if only just in her memories.

She speaks to Echo about what she could’ve done differently to prevent the loss of myself - the answer being nothing. She’s punishing herself for my decision, one that had the best overall outcome for the group - though I’m realizing how this affected them as a whole and as individuals.

“What if I was the one to restore power instead? What if I took the risk of pulling him up? What if…”

Cyar’ika, nothing could’ve changed this outcome. Our deaths are all inevitable, some more imminent than others. All we can do, as living beings, is accept that.

I have never been more enraged than I was at the sight of Hemlock giving her my goggles. All of the progress she’s made seemed to melt away just at the sight of the broken lenses - it all faltered, just as she did in Echo’s arms. Though this is an unfortunate circumstance, I am glad she’s finding much needed solace in him - she understands that she is not alone.

She rests for most of the day, forgets to eat, isolates herself. All of the progress made has refreshed to what she was before, just from one object. Though Echo tries his best, there isn’t much he can do to motivate her - he can just watch as she withers away, just like I can. In the stage of depression, we are all rendered hopeless.

At night, I find her and Omega to be in an embrace - platonic cuddling for comfort, a healthy way of recovering. Her connection with my siblings has only grown stronger, despite the setbacks along the way. Her, Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega were learning to live without me, and it is not upsetting. I would find comfort in knowing they can go on with their lives and find happiness.

She seems to be prospering, which gives me a sense of pride. I am proud that she has overcome my loss, and continues to thrive with the help of her support system. Things seem to be looking up for my cyar’ika, which I have never been more grateful for.

Her strained relationship with Hunter has been all but mended, little to no animosity remaining between the two. With Echo’s assistance, she is beginning to complete the puzzle of her life once more, without my pieces in it. Though the puzzle may never be completed for her again, she is learning to live without them.

All I wish is for her to be happy, which comes about with the acceptance stage of grief. She is beginning to greet this new reality with a small smile, rather than tears more aggressive than the storms on Kamino.

Three years later, I am still observing her and my siblings, but I thought that was obvious. I acknowledge that I have and will always be a large part of their lives, but it is simply thrilling seeing their adventures and new lives - not as clones, but as free people.

She has come so far since that day, and viewing her with Echo gives me faith that even in the most difficult times, one can come through.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Tech,” is still heard daily, and that is more than enough for me.

fin.

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

[ranahan]

A while back I came across this Mando’a translation of Wayfaring Stranger by @steel-phoenix. It’s been stuck in my bucket for days. But the thing I wanted to ramble on about was one of the images they used: ka’ra goyust, or, ’star-road’ which I thought was quite brilliant.

(And I may or may not have learned the song, be in the process of learning GarageBand so I can get an accompaniment without a band, and also have translated Moon River using ka’ra goyust instead of me’suum’ika yustapir…)

See, Mandalorians are a culture whose mythos draws a lot from the stars. The Ka’ra are not just the literal stars, but also the mythical ruling council of past Mand’alore. Star is the root word for knowing, loving, and heart. The dead are said to be ‘not gone, merely marching far away’. What would a culture like that see when they look up in the night sky and see not just stars and constellations, but the galaxy itself sprawling across the sky (like our Milky Way)?

I think the answer could be a road across the stars, maybe the road those who have marched on, well, march on. And that’s why the image works so well.

In Finnish mythology, the Milky Way is called ‘Linnunrata’, literally ‘bird’s track’. It was thought to be the path that the birds flew on to go to the ‘Lintukoto’ for the cold winters—and also the path that souls took to afterlife (carried by birds). And that makes me think about how mandalorians call all sorts of vessels birds (literally: sho’sen, ‘submarine’, and me’sen, ‘starship’ both come from senaar, ‘bird’). But more importantly, in Finnish Linnunrata is not just a name for the “constellation” that the galaxy makes on the sky—it’s also the proper name of our galaxy itself. And I don’t think we ever got the Mando’a name of the galaxy far, far away.

[keldabe]

Mandalorian Death, Memory and Honor

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.* Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. Not gone, merely marching far away. (Tribute to a dead comrade.)

Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa translation: long memory, short fuse - said to be the typical Mando mindset

Mando'ad draar digu translation: A Mandalorian never forgets.

In the daily remembrance, it is through the actions of the living (by remembering and repeating the saying) that the dead become eternal, not because the dead exist in their own right in an afterlife (I will later write about Mandalorian concepts of soul, heaven, and an afterlife, specifically what "manda" is).

Similarly, this action of honoring the dead is not for the dead's sake, but for the living. The dead are owed honor and respect, not for the sake of the dead receiving honor but for the sake of the living showing respect.

In the season one finale, Din asks Cara to let him have "A warrior's death". Dying in battle is one of the highest honors, something which makes sense for a warrior and warring culture. Dying in battle is needed to war, thus it is valued using honor.

As the latter two Mando'a sayings suggest, there is a concept that Mandalorians hold grudges, they don't forget wrong actions. For Mandalorians, vengeance is an act of justice.

So you have a culture that encourages remembering the dead, but also remembering the wronged. It encourages vengeances, and it encourages war. Not only this, it gives a moral reward to the cost of war, ie dying in battle ie a warrior's death.

Mando'a sayings and translations courtesy of mandoa.org

[holding-hands-and-hearts]

Ori'vod, Ori'haat

“It’s a very old legend.”

“How old?”

“Older than you?”

The cadets looked so earnest, so innocent. They bounced up and down on their crossed legs, impatient even for moments at a time. But their eyes gleamed, even against the dark light of the window, their faces lighting up whenever they enjoyed his answers or when lightning flashed in the storms outside.

99’s chuckle settled in his stomach, like a comfort. “Yes. Much older than me.”

“It’s a good story,” one of the cadets gave a final happy bounce, settling.

“Verd….um. Verd ori’shya beskar’gam.” Deq sat back, satisfied.

“Ori’jate,” 99 replied. His smile curved, awkward, across one cheek, but the cadets didn’t seem to mind. They never had.

“99, Gates tripped and dropped his tray in the mess.”

“Did he, now?”

“Ori’ha….um. Ori’shya?”

Calen blinked.

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” 99 said, diplomatically.

There was a giggle. “Kaysh mirsh solus.”

“Who said that?” Gently, 99 turned his gaze from face to face, searching for the culprit. “Udesii. Would it be nice if someone said that to you?”

“No.”

“Exactly. So be thoughtful. Elek?”

The first cadet shook his head, searching for the correction. “Ori’haat?”

“Gar serim.”

“Did Gates have to go to the medical wing?” 99 asked. His face - covered perpetually in worry, something tactile and somber, as if his features were coated in wax. What happens if we die? 99 hadn’t imagined, of all of the questions he answered and stories he told, that he’d have to answer that one. Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la, he’d said, and the cadet had rendered the words like a promise.

“No.” Crash shuddered. “The Kaminii didn’t see it. Halo cleaned his face for him.”

“That’s good.” 99 shifted, tucking his legs a different way. “Did he get to eat?”

“They all shared.”

“Aliit ori’shya tal’din,” Sacks recited. “No one is left behind.”

“No. None of us are,” 99 agreed. He ruffled his hair through the nearest cadet’s hair, pleased to hear him squeak delightedly at the touch.

“Gates is always hungry.”

“The eighth years have a lot to do,” 99 pointed out. “You have to eat. Keeps you healthy.”

Calen grinned, ferally. “Kaysh guur’ skran.”

******

99 teaching the littles Mando'a for @clonetober's Boba/Mando'a day. @artemis98 said this and I was like YES and I wrote it down immediately so that I could get to write this someday.

As with most things, it turned out very different than I first imagined - and I still have plenty of headcanons for 99's Mando'a lessons with the cadets.

Translations under the cut (I think? still trying to figure those out)

Verd ori’shya beskar’gam - a soldier is more than his armor

Ori’jate - very good

Ori’shya - more

Kaysh mirsh solus - he's an idiot (his brain cell is lonely)

Udesii - relax, calm down

Elek - yes, yeah

Ori'haat - it's the truth

Gar serim - yes, you're right

Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la - not gone, merely marching far away

Aliit ori’shya tal’din - family is more than blood

Kaysh guur’ skran - he likes his food

[rexscyarika]

Ner Jetii

An angsty one shot between Rex and gender neutral Jedi reader. The reader is a Padawan but of age. It’s not stated who the reader’s master is or what battalion they serve with but, they talk of rescue and relief so Plo Koon and the 104th could be implied if you so please.

⚠️Mature audiences recommended⚠️

Warnings: Established romantic relationship between Rex and reader, so much angst, heavy survivor’s guilt and reader blaming themselves, reader losing their company in a seppie trap, descriptions of blood and death, dying words, past torture, ptsd flashbacks, hallucinations, mention of post Umbara trauma, mention of nightmares, reader self-harming in a way (using pain to drive their will and unconsciously punish themselves, self-destructing/over exertion, simile of falling through ice/drowning, implied capture and torture of reader, mention of capture and slavery in the beginning, fluff at the end, reader is so traumatized and paranoid, no y/n just pet names, small kiss at the end, reader needs a hug, reader gets that hug from Rex, comforting! Rex, Rex sings to you in Mando’a cause I’m a slut for that language. I hope that’s all 😭

Mando’a translations:

Cyare/cyar’ika: Darling/beloved/sweetheart

Mesh’la: Beautiful

Mando’ad: Mandalorian (lit “child of Mandalore”)

Vod/vode: brother/sister/comrade

Jetii: Jedi

Ner: My

Ret’urcye mhi: Goodbye (lit “maybe we’ll meet again)

Bal kote, durasuum kote: For glory, eternal glory

The lullaby lines are made up from a phrase of remembrance (translations are included by them)

It was just a relief mission. You were supposed to bring food and medical supplies to a remote outer rim system that had been effected by separatist blockades. An easy and simple mission, one to introduce shinies to life off Kamino. At least that’s what it was supposed to be. That was until you had led your company straight into a Seperatist trap. It turns out there were no citizens to help out, no citizens at all for that matter, those that were there had been captured and sold. It hadn’t been much of a fight, you were severely lacking in firepower and experienced soldiers. Sure as a Jedi you are worth a couple hundred battle droids but you can’t help your men when you’re engaging a highly dangerous Sith Lord. At least they had died fairly quickly with minimal suffering. That’s what you get when you have 10 battle droids for every trooper. They keep firing even after all are down. They don’t take prisoners, well not troopers anyway. Maybe it’s for the best for some of them, though. The shinies won’t have to see firsthand the effects of the war that has plagued the galaxy, or wake up trembling with the sound of blaster fire ringing through their ears at night. They will have died knowing nothing more than training exercises and stories from their vode. The others won’t have to mourn for lost vode anymore, they won’t have to worry about their place in the galaxy after the war. Not gone, merely marching away as the Mando’ad say. Marching away from endless battles and no choices for how they live their lives.

Yeah, it was for the best.

But, if that was the case why do their voices haunt you at night? Cry’s of “You could have saved us.” “We were so young.” “Please General I didn’t want to die this young.” and of course the one that nips at your brain 24/7, like a headache that won’t go away “You led us straight to them.”

You didn’t mean to. You’re loyal to the republic and your men. But you’re a Jedi right? You should’ve sensed it, the fact their was a handful of force signatures on a planet said to have billions of citizens and the presence of a Sith Lord for kriff’s sake. You could’ve sensed it. If only you had been been paying attention instead of laughing at stupid jokes with your men, those men same might still be alive.

The Jedi council had tried to reassure you

“A Padawan you still are and an experienced Sith Lord Dooku is. A fair fight it was not.”

“Dooku can mask his force signature, young one. It wasn’t your fault.”

“We cannot save everyone. We are Jedi not gods.”

But that didn’t stop the nagging at your heart. Nor did it stop the knowledge of why the separatists developed such a complex trap to eliminate such a small number of troopers. It was because of you. You had important separatist codes locked in your head, gathered from previous missions. They knew you would be easiest to get at because you were still a Padawan and worked primarily on rescue and relief missions. Missions with low firepower and minimal expectance for combat. Master Windu knew the same codes, but he is far too experienced for them to go after. If only you had trained more, longer, better. You think back to every night you snuck out to have some fun. If you had stayed and went over your studies maybe you could’ve saved them. You wouldn’t have had to hear the dying words of your Captain. Oh your sweet Captain. So loyal and eager since he was shiny right up until his last choked out battle cry of “Bal kote, darasuum kote. Ret’urcye mhi, vod.”.

Forever glory? Where was the glory in being led to a massacre by your Commanding Officer?

He had called you vod. A title reserved for their brothers and those they respected. You didn’t deserve that respect. You weren’t a comrade that had fought valiantly by their side, you were the person that was supposed to protect them, and you let them down. The Mando’a farewell directly translates to “maybe we’ll meet again.”. If there is an afterlife and if you did, you don’t think you could look them in the eyes.

The trauma supporters the council had directed you to talk to when you got back had told you these thoughts were normal. “Survivors guilt” they had called it. As the only survivor your brain tries to tell you it was your fault. But, you weren’t a trooper that had managed to survive. You were the commanding officer. They told you that didn’t matter, it wasn’t your fault.

You wish everyone would stop telling you that, as far as you’re concerned, it was. So you tried to do everything you could to never let that happen again. You brought experienced men on relief missions, ignoring their complaints of this being a shinies job and a waste of their experience. You spent your time either sleeping, eating, training or researching new strategies. Not that your sleeping actually involved much sleeping. It mostly consisted of tossing and turning, flashes of dead troopers and... him. His sickly grin as you writhed in pain under his tortures, the blood curdling laugh as you tried to escape. You’d heard stories of how sick the former Jedi was, but experiencing it was something else. Not just the torture but his presence. Dark, looming and cold. Like falling through ice into cold water. Trapped and desperate to escape.

Every slightly negative feeling that leaked from your fellow Jedi made you freeze. He’s here, you’d think, or that Jedi has turned. So you walked around on eggshells, constantly wary and vigilant of any potential threats. Even now as you focused on the punching bag in front of you were scanning, reaching out with the force to sense any threats. It was becoming exhausting, so you opted to let pain drive your will. Not even bothering to wrap your hands as you threw punches at the bag. Your fists began to slide off the bag on account of your blood staining it red. But you didn’t stop, truthfully you didn’t even feel the pain at this point. You couldn’t tell if the red on your hands was your own or the memories of fallen troopers’.

“I should’ve fought harder.”

You hit the bag with a powerful right hook.

“They’d still be alive if I had”

You opted for a jab.

“I led them straight into that trap.”

Your cross didn’t consist of much technique, just rage and power.

The same time you heard the door to the training room being opened you felt an icy breath near your ear. “The pain will end if you just give me the codes.”

“Never!” You snarled, whirling around and summoning your lightsaber from your belt. Immediately igniting it and pointing it to face the Sith Lord. I look of poor malice fell across your face, a mask to hide the fear.

You were met by a startled trooper, his wraps falling from his hands and his body moving into an instinctive defensive stance.

It took you a second to realize there was no danger, your eyes raking behind him to ensure of such. You disengaged your lightsaber and dropped to your knees with shaky breaths.

“I thought your were him, Rex, I thought he’d found me.” You sobbed into your hands, flinching as you felt a hand on your back.

“It’s okay Cyare, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

You let him pull you into his lap. He gently grabbed your hand with his, careful to avoid the raw patches that were still oozing blood. His other hand stayed on your back to rub soothing circles and pull you tight to him. He held you as sobs wracked your body, his lips by your hairline, whispered assurances coming from them.

He started to hum softly before they turned to words. It was a Mando’a lullaby, one sung to grieving vod after a loss. You didn’t know many of the words, your knowledge of the language not extending much past the nicknames Rex would call you. It was still comforting though, his voice soft as he ran a hand through your hair.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc.”

You realized you recognized what he was singing. You heard it whispered from the lips of troopers as their vode mourned. Rex had told you the meanings of some of the lines. (“I’m still alive, but you are dead.”)

“Ni partayli, gar darasuum” he continued humming. (“I remember you so you are eternal.”)

Your sobs slowly turned to sniffles as you sat there with him. Feeling a small sense of comfort and security for the first time in weeks. Relishing in the feeling of being in his arms.

“Cyar’ika.” He had whispered when you had finally gone silent, your breaths coming even and deep now. He brought the hand from your hair to your cheek, gently encouraging you to look at him. “Are you with me, little one?”

You nodded and blinked up at him with swollen eyes. You whispered a thank you as you searched his face. It was soft yet slightly taught with worry. His eyes were sparkling with held back tears, and his mouth was turned up into a small, comforting smile. He looked so young yet so old at the same time. His soft features having been hardened from war and loss, scars from injuries his helmet couldn’t protect from laying here and there. Yet, even after years as a soldier in a war he had no say in he was still so compassionate. He wasn’t cold and unforgiving like some had become. He sat there with care and worry in his eyes, looking at you like you were his whole world. Even broken and bleeding he stayed with you. If you crumbled then he would pick up the pieces and put you back together, just as you have with him. You had been there for him, calming him down from nightmares of Umbara. You had taken his broken heart and sewed it back together with care.

So, he would do the same for you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled towards him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mesh’la.”

“But I do-“

He cut you off by bringing his lips gently to yours and sealing them in a gentle kiss.

He pulled away to rest his forehead in yours.

“No you don’t, ner jetii. Not to me, not to anyone.”

He moved to stand up, still holding onto you to support you as you stood on shaky legs.

“Let’s get you to the medbay.” He gestured to your hands once he deemed you stable enough to be able to walk.

You nodded to him and accepted his arm around your waist, your own moving to seek support on his shoulder. You made your way to the medbay, averting your eyes from curious glances at your state. You knew no one would question or mock you. Not with Rex there, his gaze flaming with warning at anyone that looked your way. You still had a lot to get through. You knew more blood and tears would be shed. That voice would continue nagging in your head and you’d still see your fallen company in your dreams. But, it would get better, you had Rex to talk you down and hold you during those times. You had done that for him and you knew he would do the same for you.

His Jetii.

[thatpanbastard]

Rescue on Ryloth

Warnings: bad batch episode 11 and maybe 12 major character injury angst hurt/comfort

“Chopper what are we gonna do?” Hera whispered. The astromech chirped in response.” I can’t just leave them Chop.”

“Miss Syndulla.” Hera whipped around her hand closing around a small knife. Captain Howzer put his hands up in surrender.” I’m here in peace.”

“You arrested me; And my parents I don’t believe you.”

“I was wrong. The Empire has been lying. Hera please listen to me. I can help you rescue your parents but I need help to do it.”

“Give me your blaster. No funny business.”

Howzer handed over his blaster and clipped his helmet onto his belt. Hera let him into the speeder.

“Any idea on who can help us?”

“Maybe.”

—

“Dark and broody come here I’ve got another job for you.” Cid barked

Hunter handed the sleeping Omega to Echo. Cid tapped her fingers impatiently as he walked across the bar.

“The insurgents on Ryloth have run into a spot of trouble. Cham and Eleni Syndulla have been captured by the Empire. Senator Taa has been executed.”

“How do you know this?” Hunter frowned deeply. Cids been withholding more and more information.

“I got a call. That’s all you need to know. There daughter is willing to pay a lot for our help so get a move on.”

Hunter pivoted on his heel and put on his helmet. The rest of the batch was standing outside the door all geared up.

“Where are we headed Sarge?” Wrecker grinned.

“We’re headed back to Ryloth.”

“Did they order more weapons?” Omega took his hand.

“Not exactly.”

—

The batch stepped of there ship and we’re greeted by Hera; Captain Howzer was not far behind his hand bound. Hunter stared at the clone Captain before whipping out his blaster leveling it at his scarred face. Hera stepped infront of the barrel stress lining her young features.

“He’s with me.” She reassured.

“Does he still have his inhibitor chip?”

“My what?”

“He won’t know about it.” Echo put his hand on Hunters blaster.” Are you armed?”

“No sir.”

“You’re the pilot kid.” Omega popped out from behind Wrecker a grin spreading across her face.

“My name is Hera.”

“I’m Omega and we’re here to help.”

—

“Syndulla honestly you should have known better.” Crosshair drawled. Eleni stared down the lithe clone her lip curled in disgust.

“You think you can take our daughter and we’d do nothing. You’re nothing more then Admiral Ramparts pet.” She spat. Crosshair glared at her.” A pawn like Senator Taa. Maybe Rampart will dispose of you the same way. Wouldn’t that be ironic.”

“Funny I was going to say the same about you and your family.” Eleni slammed her hand into the ray shield right in front of his face. Crosshair stifled a flinch.

“You better hope that doesn’t happen.”

Crosshair laughed slightly and walked off.

—

“That’s where they’d be held.” Howzer pointed at the high security prison sector.” The refinery is a cover.”

“We know we’ve encountered them atleast twice.” Echo was running low on patiences at the moment.

“We’ll get your parents out.” Omega beamed her fingers curling around her bow.

“Wrecker you’re with Howzer and Hera Tech Echo Omega you’re with me. We’ll attack in two waves. One a diversion the others will get the Syndullas and the rest of the freedom fighters out. Understood.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Wrecker your group is focusing on the prisoners. We’re going to cause some mayhem.” Hunter grinned slightly.

“Save some trouble for me Sarge. Be safe kid.” Wrecker held out his fist to Omega who bumped it with a grin.

—

Howzer set the pace -his hands still bound- with Hera not far behind panting slightly Chopper by her side. Wrecker bringing up the rear had his eyes out for Imperials.

“You alright kid?”She nodded.” How much farther Captain.”

“Not far. They should be holding the freedom fighters and the General down this hall.” Howzer turned into one of the rows of prisoners.

“Captain Howzer.” Chams Syndullas voice was garbled slightly by the ray shield.

“Father.” Hera laughed.” We’re here to rescue you.”

“Ksa’a?” Hera turned and smiled at Eleni. Howzer began opening cells.

“General I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I don’t know how you can forgive me”

“You’ve kept Hera safe I can forgive you for now.”

“It seems like our distraction is working but I think we should go.” Wrecker interrupted.

“Lead the way Howzer.” Cham smiled pulling his wife close.

“Of course sir.”

—

“Admiral Rampart clone force 99 is here. They’ve freed the Syndullas and it seems they’ve taken Captain Howzer captive. Shall I take my squad after them?” Crosshair fiddled with the toothpick in his hand standing stiffly at attention.

“Not yet make them think they’ve made it. Set up your squadron in the courtyard. I want their heads.”

—

“Mrs. Syndulla, General Syndulla Lieutenant Glie Cid sent us.” Hunter explained as the two teams met hardly 15 feet from the exit.

“I appreciate the rescue Sergeant.” Eleni but in before Cham or Gobi could get a word in.

“That’s what we do ma’am.” Wrecker puffed out his chest slightly.

“Let’s get moving before they realize you’re gone.”

Howzer looked up and darted infront of Hera. A single shot rang through the silent courtyard.

“Howzer.” The Captain dropped with an agonized cry. A smoking hole in his leg.

Hera and Omega were both pushed behind the closet adult.

Only one person could’ve made a shot like that. Crosshair was here.

“Get them out of here I’m going after Crosshair.” Hunter snapped.

“Let’s get moving sir.” Echo urged. Wrecker pulled Howzer up slinging the injured man over his shoulders.

“Clones have defended Ryloth for far to long. Take Hera out of here. Your Sergeant is going to need help.” Eleni took Howzers blaster from Hera. Cham took one of Wreckers many weapons. Echo faltered.

“I’ll keep them out of too much trouble.” Tech assured.” Get the ik’aads out of here.”

“I’m not so little Tech. Be careful.”

“Always am ad’ika now go.”

—

The rest of Crosshairs special forces stepped out of the shadows of the courtyard. The later walked out a slight limp in his step that wasn’t there on Bracca.

“What a shame Sergeant I thought you would’ve learned.” Crosshair jeered.

“Don’t make me do this Crosshair” Hunter pleaded with his littlest brother.” This isn’t you.”

“Isn’t it?” He laughed.” Look what you did to me Ori’vod.” Crosshair spat the last word like a curse pulling off his helmet.

Omega let out an audible gasp. Hunter faltered. They all stared at the deep healing burns on the side of Crosshairs head.

“Cross-“

“Open fire.” He barked pulling the helmet back on. Tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

—

“You two stay here and stay down.” Echo snapped. Wrecker lowered Howzer to the ground and handed Hera a blaster he left another by Howzer.

The two of them open fired on the imperials joining the 5 others in the fire fight.

Hera watched Omega curiously. The younger girl having now reaction to the near deafening blaster fire. She recognized the similarity to her own reactions to the noise after being around it for so long.

“Keep an eye out.” Omega snapped her bow ready for any Imperials headed their way. Howzer struggled to his feet.” You shouldn’t be up yet. You’re hurt.”

“I’ve got a job to do kid.” Howzer picked up the blaster he was given.

—

Hunter snuck up behind Crosshair the former to busy with Gobi to notice his Ori’vod behind him.

He lined up his shot and fired. He hit a target just not the one he was aiming for.

—

Chams scream rang out through the court yard as Eleni crumpled like a puppet who’s strings had been cut. A smoking blaster wound right through her heart.

Hera scrambled from cover sobbingand screaming for her mother. Howzer wrapped his arm around her smaller frame pulling her back. Omega stared horrified at the body and her friend.

Hunter stunned Crosshair taking down his unprepared brother with ease. Guilt gnawed at him as he watched Cham scramble for his fallen wife. He pulled Crosshair over his shoulder. They would be over run shortly.

“Cham we have to go.” Gobi wrapped his hand around his friends shoulder. Wrecker pulled the limp form of Eleni into his arms as Cham stumbled to his feet. They raced for cover as the Imperials poured into the courtyard.

Tech rolled a bunch of smoke bombs behind them covering their escape. The group was silent except for Heras stifled sobs.

—

The remaining two Syndullas hadn’t spoken since they boarded the Maurader. Cham stared blankly at the white sheet covering Elemis body. He held her limp hand hoping and praying she would move.

“General.” Howzer interrupted the silence.” I’m sorry sir.”

Cham nodded slightly not tearing his eyes off of Eleni. Silent tears streaked down his face. Howzer held his shoulder in a silent support.

—

Hera sobbed openly into Wreckers cuirass. Gobi stared at his feet guilt coursing through him. That bolt was meant for him. He should be lying on that bunk not her.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la” Echo looked tiredly at the white sheet.

“Not gone merely marching far away.” Tech translated. The ship lurched as it exited hyperspace.

“Rex is waiting for us on the surface Captain. He’ll be able to get your chip out. He’s arranged a shuttle for you four General to get you to a safe house until calms down some.” Hunter explained. He frowned slightly as he watched Cham

“Thank you Sergeant.”

“General could we have a word.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“Sir please I think it’s important.” Hunters eyes flashed to where Wrecker was sitting Hera sleeping restlessly against his armor.

“Alright.”

—

“I mean no disrespect sir you’ve just went through an unspeakable tragedy but your daughter needs you.”

“She doesn’t need me. She needs her mother.” Cham scoffed.

“If I may sir she idolizes you.” Hunter placed a hand on his shoulder.” Don’t push her away. Don’t loose her too.”

—

Rex watched as the Maurader opened. The Silver Angel was sitting off at the side. He felt a pang of grief as he watched Eleni Syndullas body get unloaded off the ship. He’s never met her personally but she was a kind women.

He offered Cham and his daughter a small smile. Rafa and Trace took them in with open arms.

“I’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous point.” Rex smiled at Trace.

“We’ll see you later Cap.” She beamed.

“Rex I can’t thank you enough for this.” Hunter pulled him into a hug.

“Of course. You said you had two people with you who needed a chip removed. Does Omega have one as well?”

“No a reg Captain we rescued on Ryloth.” Rex pulled back from Hunter his heart caught in his throat as he watched Howzer and Echo step out of the Maurader.

“Rex?” Howzer frowned slightly before he let out a loud laugh.” You son of a Sith you made it.”

“Vod’ika?”

“Shove off vod we’re the same age.” Rex took Howzers arm and dropped it over his shoulder.

“Let’s get your chip out.”

—

Authors note I’m working on a fluffier part two with the batch and the Rex Howzer au love yall

[haillenarte]

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days! 

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea. 

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help... 

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name. 

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun. 

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

[sserpente]

Pastel Blue (Chapter 4)

Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures–but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on the TVA’s radar. Working for them, albeit reluctantly, he keeps finding himself in the company of a young woman, Jess, who works in the linguistics department and who has a truly strange effect on him. Smitten by her confidence and smugness, he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey and lets her wreak havoc in his heart without really knowing why. But he is determined to find out. He means to escape his new prison anyway.

Find all chapters in my masterlist!

Loki got called in again after lunch. By the time Jess returned from sitting next to Fred in the cafeteria poking at her food as if those noodles were earthworms, he was gone. She had been careless to leave him alone like that. For all she knew, he could have found a way to get rid of his handcuffs and make trouble.

Nothing of the like happened, no alarms were raised and no fuming Mobius came at her for being this reckless. Instead, she decided not to while away in the lab any longer and packed her things to continue her work in her unit, feeling like an empty shell.

What if he was right? The question hovered in the air like moist fog in a forest, creeping into her mind and clouding her concentration. Was that what he wanted, to get to her and distract her? Distract her from what, exactly? M had warned her that Loki was skilled at playing mind games and deceiving his enemies and despite you insisting he was part of the team now and that he would not get left behind, it appeared he still perceived them all as such.

It wasn’t like anyone had made any real effort to become his friend so far… so what else was he to believe? Jess bit her lower lip, and eventually gave up on the transcript she was working on. Her mind kept wandering off, even when she switched on her TV to re-watch some of her favourite Doctor Who episodes and struggled to make sense of the lines as her mind was still filled with Old French terms, repeatedly sucking in deep breaths until she realised the foreign and yet so familiar scent surrounding her was Loki’s. She was sitting on his provisory bed, after all.

The bed sheets smelled like a wintery forest, like ice and strangely, even leather and molten metal—but perhaps the latter was just his natural male scent intended to lure in females. Either way… Jess felt too exhausted to resist how it enveloped her whole and eventually fell asleep on the sofa before Loki returned to her unit.

 ~*~

He found her sleeping soundly on his “bed” after Dave practically shoved him into the room, locking the door behind him with an ear-piercing click, but he sensed her presence before he even lay his eyes on her. It came knocking him over like the strong winds in Jötunheim, making him swallow as he stepped closer.

Loki wondered just how fast he could snap her delicate neck. How he could overpower and threaten to kill her before the oafs watching him over the surveillance cameras even registered what was unfolding before their eyes, taking her hostage. But he did no such thing and it left him pondering if Mobius had somewhat suspected he would not harm a hair on her head.

He knew a lot about him, Mobius. More than he would have liked, but if watching him in various timelines proved anything at all, it was that Loki was not malicious for the sake of malice. Ever since his arrival, Jess had not once raised his voice against him—he had no reason to plot vengeance against her. Only to plan it with her. Fuck off, she had barked. He smirked.

She seemed kind, after all, understanding—well, she was cheeky and smug too but there was more beneath the surface. Loki refrained from flinching when she stirred, turning over on the sofa to reveal her face. Eyes closed, features relaxed, lips slightly parted. As soon as her eyes flew open, Loki felt an adrenaline rush resembling the thrill of being reunited with a long-lost possession.

Jess blinked. “Hey… how long have you been here?”

“About a minute. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the door close.”

She shrugged. “I have a deep sleep.” Truly. She could sleep through a war and feel rested the next day. Technically, that was another superpower of hers.

“I… um…” What? I’m sorry? For what? This was ridiculous. She had nothing to apologise for. Instead, she sat up straight and rushed to gather her things so Loki would get his bed back. Her own was calling for her anyway. “When did M send you?”

Loki swallowed. “The nineties again, to save a Minuteman from public execution in a Hydra cult.”

“And did you?”

He smirked, sending a lightning bolt right between her legs. Damn him. “Yes. Even though I do assume that he was never in any real danger.”

“How can you know? M has his reasons for what he does. I’m sure he had one for allowing you to interfere.”

Loki hummed, careful not to scratch on the surface of his true intentions towards her again—not anytime soon, anyway. “Did he now? You all think me the God of Lies, yet Mobius is so full of them he reeks of deception.” He paused, looking her straight in the eye. “Do you trust him?”

Did she? Her answer should have been an unconditional yes, a confirmation of her loyalty to the TVA but who was she kidding? No. She did not trust him. M had given her a home and he had given her a purpose beyond criminal intent, and technically she had put her life into his hands but she did not, in fact, trust him.

She didn’t trust anyone in the TVA, as a matter of fact—not even Fred and especially not Dave, even with his jubilee coming up. She trusted no one but herself. Her parents had taught her that, a long time ago. At least that’s how she remembered it.

“You should go to sleep. Fred had a point, I’m sure M won’t go easy on you once you’ve become used to all the timeline hopping.”

Loki frowned, fully aware of the fact she had not answered his question. He watched her stagger off into her room tired but elegantly, empty peanut shells still scattered on the coffee table like confetti. He would have made them disappear with but a flick of his wrist if it wasn’t for that absurd collar.

Loki wondered for just a brief moment if she would pleasure herself again tonight. Oh, yes. He had heard that and it had left him with a bulge in his trousers for the rest of the night. The barely audible buzzing of a sex toy Loki could only imagine had been buried deep inside her cunt, and Jess’ soft whimpers, albeit muffled due to the pillow she must have pressed her face into, had been all but delectable, and while he doubted that he was the reason for her night-time adventure, it had been a thrilling experience nonetheless. Loki merely possessed enough decency not to bring it up—not until he might need to blackmail her. At the very least, that was what he told himself. He refused to believe the premise of his silence was a growing collection of sexual fantasies, most of which involved Jess on her knees in front of him, moaning and whimpering like she had last night.

Loki cursed, brushing the peanuts aside and heeded her advice. He should rest. It would do him no good to stay up all night yet again and squeeze a few hours of sleep out in the early morning when exhaustion got the better of him. He shouldn’t be letting his guard down at all for as long as he was wearing that collar and could be taken by surprise. This morning posed as the perfect example of this miserable predicament. No one should be able to march past him and get ready for a long workday with him sleeping through it, and yet Jess had managed to do just that.

He hummed to himself, straightening the covers of his provisory bed before lying down with as much grace as he could muster and ridding himself of his clothing. He would be damned if he did not make use of whatever connection there might have been between them, even if he knew he was repeating himself at that point. Patience. Patience is a virtue. It still took him hours again for his mind to finally switch off and let him fall asleep.

~*~

Jess nearly jumped out of her skin when she found Loki standing right behind her, peeking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of what she was working on.

“How did you even find me? The lab is miles away.”

Loki smirked, sending her heart knocking against her ribcage like a steam hammer. “Not all of my powers are of magical origin, you see.” He would certainly not tell her he found her because he had sensed her. herher. sdHe sighed. “And to be quite frank, you are far more bearable than everyone else around here.”

Jess smiled smugly. “You know what, I’ll just take that as a compliment. I see you’re without handcuffs but I have work to do. So either help me translate or be quiet and let me focus, alright?”

He looked so damn good in that suit. The white button-up chemise and the black tie complimented his raven hair like it had been made for him, and not been borrowed from Dave who, as far as she was concerned, had been more than against the idea of the God of Mischief wearing his suits.

“No missions today?” She found herself asking, blinking rapidly to tear her gaze away from his chest.

“I guess we shall find out. Though I am surprised Mobius is not concerned some of Odin’s lapdogs will kick in the door sooner or later.” He had given it a proper thought before, of course. Loki was a fugitive, a criminal. Thor was probably looking for him, along with a herd of einherjar following after him like sheep. The very circumstance that he might just be safe here for the time being, until he had gotten his hands on the Tesseract and the collar off his neck, had indeed occurred to him already. Mobius had refused any information on the matter, Jess, on the other hand, was easier to manipulate.

“Only in one timeline,” Jess said. “The one you escaped from. You are in the Null-Time Zone now which means you are shielded from anyone travelling with the Filumorph.” It was a ridiculous term, really, didn’t quite roll off the tongue. She knew what it meant, at least. Filum was a Latin word for string. Time strings, in this case. But then again, it was just a tongue-twister she had come up with at Mobius’ birthday party a few years ago.

“The entire facility is hidden from prying eyes then, is it not?” Loki probed, his fingertips brushing over a stack of books Jess had brought to work today.

“Yes?”

“How far does this protection reach?”

“Across the nine realms and beyond, Loki. That’s like, the whole point. The multiverse, except for a few individuals, don’t know we exist, and unlike S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.W.O.R.D. we work in secret. We only observe and keep things in order.” She recited the words as if she had learned them by heart from a dull textbook.

“I figured this much.” He purred, snatching a book from the table and flicking through it with vague interest. Whatever stood behind this very protection, surely there were mechanics and science involved. All he had to do was find a way to use this protection for himself once the Tesseract created a portal for him to get out of here.

He hummed once more, following Jess’ every move as she attempted to get back to her work. This woman had access to any document in dire need of translation all across the TVA. He would be damned if she could not find out where the cube was—if she did not know already, that was.

She scribbled a translation on the page with a pencil reading ‘bad or evil’, then paused, chewed on the eraser-part and frowned. ‘Sick?’, she added with a question mark.

“You are not wrong,” he found himself saying, crossing his arms before his chest and leaning against her desk as his eyes skimmed over the transcript. “Evil would indeed refer to sick in this case as there are no other mentions of ill-willed entities. Here. Varð þeim ǫllum ilt af,” he cited, picking a random example a little further on in the dialogue. “It made them all sick.”

“I thought so. It must have something to do with the ‘fjölkyngi’ they keep speaking of.”

“Sorcery? What sorcery?”

Jess switched to Old Norse, reading out loud what the transcript had to offer. Loki’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest upon hearing her speak in his mother tongue, her pronunciation so on point and flawless his lips parted in utter surprise. “But they don’t mention it again,” she continued in English. “It’s like they’re afraid of talking about it.”

“Let me see.” Jess held back a smile, her pulse speeding up. Loki leaned over the desk, allowing her to take in his unique and beguiling scent—not to mention the way his sleeves were rolled up, his pale forearms on full display for her. The strength hiding in those muscles made her wiggle around on her chair like an impatient child. There went her concentration again, she thought, as she nibbled on her candy necklace.

~*~

“M? Do you have a moment?” It was about a week later when Jess made her way to Mobius’ office—it was more a control room, really—with a stack of documents tucked under her arm.

“Jess…” Mobius did not look up but she knew better than to assume he would not pay attention to her. He was exceptional at multi-tasking, Mobius. “What can I do for you?” His eyes were glued to six screens right in front of him, the one in the middle displaying who Jess immediately identified as Loki, and his new reluctant supervisors, Ariana and Homer. She placed the documents on his desk, right next to the silly Doctor Who coffee mug she had gotten him for his birthday once, her blue eyes darting over to the screens like magnets.

“I translated the remaining transcripts and protocols now.” And Loki helped me, she added silently. “There are three mentions of a foreign entity of sorts that could be an Infinity Stone but the descriptions were too vague, almost as if they spoke in code… to be truly honest, I believe this is about something, or rather someone else entirely. It seems to refer to people more than magical objects.” She said, not once averting her gaze. “I’ll need more to figure out if it’s really… When is Loki?”

Mobius looked up at last, noticing her almost suspicious interest in what was unfolding on the surveillance monitors.

“Never mind that. Those are just previews, getting him used to time and multiverse travels.” She hummed. Just what she’d expected. “He’s making things a lot more difficult for himself than they are. Makes me wonder if we should let him take part in Dave’s jubilee party on Saturday. How are you getting along with him?” He asked instead of answering her question. “I noticed he spends an awful lot of time around your office.” Blood bit at her cheeks. Did he know? Don’t be ridiculous. How would he? What was there to know anyway?

“He does. I am trying to be nice, unlike you lot. But we haven’t exactly been speaking much.” … He only watches me work, mostly, seeking my presence like a bee hunting for honey… not that I’d mind. “Why?”

“No reason. You just seem tense. You will tell me if you notice anything… off about him, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Does me wanting to be near him and touch him count as off? She swallowed, saying nothing more.

“You won’t have to put up with Loki for much longer, I promise. Reese has recovered well, he’ll take over next week and you’ll have your unit all to yourself again. I’ll send Dave to get you those recordings, he should be able to retrieve them before the party.”

“Already?”

Mobius gave her a look and Jess slapped her forehead mentally. “I mean… Reese is feeling better already? I thought he was almost beheaded.”

“Exactly, almost.” Mobius chuckled.

Jess ignored that last bit. Her mind had gotten stuck at put up with Loki. Like she would admit to him that he had been pleasant to have around when he wasn’t trying to smash the pillars holding her life together like he had when he accused Mobius of using her like a tool. “And quite frankly, I am keen on keeping a safe distance between you,” he went on unfazed, “Loki is like a ticking time bomb. That collar is staying on until I can be one-hundred percent certain he is not up to some mischief.”

“What about my probation?”

The senior manager gave her a sly grin. “Consider it ended for now. But I’m watching you, Jess.”

She scoffed. “Of course you are.”

~*~

A/N: I’m always happy about comments, so let me know what you think or what you believe will happen next! ♥

[and-claudia]

The Reveal (A Clan of Our Own part 26) (The Mandalorian X Reader)

Word Count: 4442 (not counting translation) 

Posted on: August 23, 2020

Tag List is OPENED

Warning: None really, breif (and I mean tiny) mentions of medical stuff, and a very thinly (and I mean really not at all) covered shameless referance/joke about and to sex at the end

gif is not mine (I love the wink) 

The moment we were back at the Crest, Din helped me change into new, clean clothes and had me go lay down immediately. I wasn’t complaining though. As we were landing back down onto the ground, he had tried to keep me from seeing Kuiil’s body where it was laying only a few meters away from the ship, but I had seen it and my heart broke. He was so close.

After he was sure I was good and settled in, he left to go take care of Kuiil. We both knew we couldn’t leave him like that, he deserved way better than that.

Din’s PoV

Before I left the ship again I put the kid in his pod and grabbed a shovel from the tool cabinet on the wall. I walked down the ramp and over to where he was. I sighed as I got closer realizing how short of a walk it was, he almost made it here with the kid. It wasn’t fair.

I began digging. The dirt here on Neverro was full of rocks and I set them aside as I came across them to mark the grave once it was finished. Once the hole was deep enough, I carefully lifted his body up off the ground and then lowered him into it.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled.

I very rarely allowed myself to cry, but right now there was no reason not to. In fact, there was every reason to after everything we’d been through today. I was frustrated, pissed even. I was the one who asked him to come with us, it was my fault he died. Because of my plan he was now dead while the rest of us got to live. It wasn’t fair for him. But that was the sickest part of death, it never seemed to be fair.

I replaced the dirt over him. Once it was filled back up, I began to place the rocks over it to cover the grave and mark it.

About halfway through I heard cooing from beside me. I turned to see the kid padding up to me with Kuiil’s helmet in his little hands. It was nearly bigger than he was and he was struggling to carry it.

“You shouldn’t be here, kid.” I said.

He only continued towards me and held up the helmet a little more. I picked him and took it from him.  

“Thanks buddy.”

I found a larger rock and put the helmet over it and then placed it in the center of the pile. I put my free hand over the helmet.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Kuiil.” I said.  (“I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, Kuiil.”)

Then I stood up and began walking back to the ship.

“That’s something we say as Mandalorians, as a way to remember the ones we’ve lost. Especially ones who were close to you.” I explained to the kid as we walked, I was honestly trying to distract myself both from Kuiil and from what might be going on with Yn. I was terrified that it would be something much more serious than either of us were hoping.

“Sometimes you’ll have a really long list of names, that’s when it’s always the hardest. But when the list gets longer, you should always remember the saying, Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. It means ‘Not gone, merely marching far away.’ They still live on in some way, even if they’re not physically here with us, they live on in our memory and in our hearts.”

Once I was back on the ship I went to check on Yn. I brought the kid with me and let him sit on the bed as I talked to her.

“You okay?” She asked the moment I was in front of her.

“I’m supposed to be asking you that.” I sighed.

“I don’t care, are you okay?” She asked again.

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged, “He didn’t deserve to die.”

She nodded sadly, “I know. Is everything taken care of though?”

“Yeah. The kid actually came down to help.” I chuckled half-heartedly as I remembered him waddling towards me.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t even know he got out of his pod.” She apologized quickly.

“It’s fine.” I brushed it off, “I actually showed him some of the Mandalorian traditions, like what we say when someone that was close to us passes. I know he probably doesn’t understand much of it, but he’s technically a Mandalorian now.”

Yn smiled for a moment before shifting, clearly uncomfortable. I felt horrible for her right now, I hated seeing her like this.

“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No, not really. Everything just hurts. How far is the closest medical facility?”

“Not sure. Let me go get us off Neverro and then I’ll find it and set our course for it then come back down and check on you?” I offered.

She nodded, “Okay, but will you take the kid with you? I want to close my eyes for a little bit without having to worry about him.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” I said, picking him back up, “You rest.”

Yn PoV

When Din got back he told me it'd be another two hours before we got to the facility. The ship was on autopilot so he could be down here to keep an eye on me.

“Din?” I called for him after about half an hour.

He came rushing back to our bunk from the kitchen, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was just going to ask if you would be willing to help me get up and shower before we get to the medical facility? I know I changed clothes like an hour ago but I just still feel gross from sweating for the past two days, and I’d feel a lot better if I had a shower before having someone looking all up in my… yeah.”

He chuckled a little, “Yes, I’ll help you. Do you want to do it now?”

“If you’re not busy, then yes, the sooner the better.”

“Alright, here let me help you up.” He said as I scooted you to the foot of the bed to him and allowed him to help me over to the refresher that held a small shower.

He carefully helped me undress and tossed my clothes to the side. Then he led me over to the running water. I sighed as the warm water ran over my sore body. I only felt slightly bad for Din getting wet since we left the curtain open so I could hold onto his arm to steady myself if I needed to. He still wore his helmet, but I wasn’t going to ask him about it. He knew he could take it off and I knew he'd do it when he was ready to.

Once I was done he wrapped a towel around my body and then handed me one to dry my hair. Instead of wrapping it in a towel to dry completely, I decided to just towel dry it some then just pull it back out of my face. Once I was done with that, he led me out to sit on the foot of our bed while he went to get clothes for me to put on.

He knew which leggings to grab, I had a certain pair that was always my go-to, I had picked them up before he found me actually. I knew I’d need them later on and I was glad I bought them.

“What shirt do you want?” He asked.

“Actually… can I wear one of yours please?” I asked sweetly.

“Only because I love you.” He said, laughing to himself and closing my drawer to open his to get a shirt. It was a simple black, three quarter length one that he only ever wore around the ship, or to sleep in.

After he helped me get dressed he went to go double-check that we were still on course while I laid back down. I closed my eyes for a little bit.

“Hey, Yn?” I woke up to Din saying my name and lightly shaking my foot lightly.

“Hm?” I hummed and slowly opened my eyes.

“I was just going to let you know, I’m out of the shower and I’m going to head up to the cockpit so we can land soon. Do you need anything before I go up?” He asked.

I shook my head no.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.” He said before walking off.

I didn’t even remember him telling me he was going to shower. If he hadn't said anything I would have never known because he was already dressed and had all his armor back on.

He came back shortly after the ship was landed on one of their docking platforms.

As we walked in I held onto his arm. Luckily the kid was out cold in his pod, so we let him sleep on the ship with an activated comlink in his pod acting as a baby monitor.

“Have you had any more contractions since Neverro?” Din asked as we walked down a hall.

“Only two. One while you were taking care of… of Kuiil. And then the one in the shower.”

He nodded. As we walked into the room we were directed to. He had me sit down then went over to the lady at the desk. Luckily it was an actual person and not a droid, just because we had both developed a soft spot for IG-11 didn’t mean we suddenly liked droids now.

“Are you Mr.Djarin?” She asked.

“Yes, I contacted you earlier and explained our situation.” He said.

“Yes sir. Dr.Len will be ready to see your wife very shortly.” She said kindly.

“Thank you.” He said and began making his way over to me.

He hadn’t even sat down when they called for me. A nurse led us to a small room and had me change into a gown then lay on the bed.

“Okay so, I know you explained everything to the front desk but if you could explain it once more for myself and the doctor.” The nurse asked.

I looked over to Din to allow him to explain, “So I’m a bounty hunter, she’s a former one. I had to take care of some business, it wasn’t supposed to get messy. It was meant to be a fairly easy endeavor, we had a plan set and she was a part of the plan so she had to come with me, against both of our better judgment. Long story short it got messy quick. The whole thing lasted two days, the first day was just a lot of walking and she had a couple of contractions, nothing too serious. The second day was when everything happened. It was an onslaught of stress and emotions for everyone, especially Yn. As the day went on she kept getting more contractions, and we both knew she needed to get checked out as soon as possible.” Din explained.

The nurse nodded along. “Well, honestly I can probably correctly predict what is going on here without running any tests or having the doctor come in. We see this quite a bit actually.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh of course. We sit right in the middle of about four or five bounty hunter hubs, so we see quite a few bounty hunting families pass through.” She said.

“I never knew that.” I said thoughtfully.

“Not many do. Anyways, my guess is that you are suffering from extreme fatigue and your blood pressure is probably very high which can lead to stress on the baby. And, just off the record as a mother myself, having your baby a few weeks or even a month early, which is about where you’re at, isn’t going to be the end of the world and it doesn’t guarantee a complicated birth or an unhealthy baby, but that being said we obviously want to keep the baby in as long as it needs.”

I nodded in agreement.

“But, I’m not a doctor, only a nurse so I cannot give you an official diagnosis for what is going on so, I’m going to grab Dr.Len. I’ll be back shortly.” She said before walking out the door.

And sure enough, she was back in just a few minutes with another lady, presumably Dr.Len.

“Hello, I’m Dr.Len.” She said shaking my hand.

“Yn Djarin.” I greeted, “And that’s my husband.” I didn’t say his name because that was still something we needed to discuss.

“Nice to meet you both. So this your first?”

“Yes and no, we have an adopted son.” I said smiling at the thought of our little Clan.

“Awe, how cute. Do you know what you’re having?” She asked.

“Another boy.” Din said proudly.

“Oh, so I see you’re getting outnumbered.” She joked causing me and Din to let out a small laugh.

“Alright, let’s get to what you came here for, to check on you and your lil munchkin. First, I want to take your blood pressure.” She said.

She grabbed the cuff and placed around my arm then turned on the machine. It began to tighten around my arm. I winced a little as it grew even tighter then released.

“Oh, wow.” I heard the doctor mumble.

“What, what’s wrong?” I panicked slightly.

“It’s okay,” she said gently, holding hands up, “It’s alright. Your blood pressure is just quite a bit higher than where I would like it to be. But, this is something that can be fixed. Try not to worry about it, that’s not going to solve anything. Nurse Ali already told me what happened, your body is exhausted. And I am going, to be honest with you, giving birth, either naturally or with surgery, is going to take a toll on your body. Now, I’m not sure what your plan is, but I do know that with your body in the condition that it is in right now, you would have to have surgery.”

My eyes went wide. I didn’t realize how bad I had gotten in just a few short days. I didn’t want to do surgery to have the baby.

“Okay, so judging by your reaction, surgery is not something you’re hoping for. Don’t worry there are ways to help your body heal, while also hopefully getting your blood pressure down.” She turned to Din, “And dad, this is where you come into play,” she said before looking back at me, “I want you to go on bed rest, strict bed rest.”

My eyes widened again.

“I know it’s hard for you former bounty hunting moms, but it is for your own sake and your baby’s so I suggest you do it. A common misconception of bed rest is that you have to stay in bed. You don’t. Just no strenuous activity, but since yours is strict bed rest I would say no being on your feet for more than ten minutes, and have at least a half-hour break between periods of time when you’re on your feet that long. If your feet or back or anything really, ever start to hurt, that’s your sign to sit, if sitting in a chair is uncomfortable, try sitting in bed, just no standing for more than ten minutes. Okay?” She asked.

I nodded.

“Good. And it is your responsibility to make sure she follows these rules.” She said to Din.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

“Alrighty, I have to go see another patient, but Avi here is going to do a quick exam just to double-check everything and then do a quick ultrasound for you real quick. Take care.” She said.

Din and I both bid her goodbye and thanked her before she left.

“Okay, so the first thing we need to do is make sure that the contractions you were having were just contractions and you weren’t actually dilating at all.” She said with a slightly apologetic tone.

“Okay.” I nodded, I knew it would have to happen.

“I know, it’s everybody’s favorite part.” She joked.

“Oh totally.” I said sarcastically as we all laughed.

“So have you picked out a name?” She spoke as she did the examination instead of letting awkward silence settle in around us.

“I think we both have a couple of ideas but we haven’t talked much about it. So no, not yet, but times ticking.” I sighed.

“Well,” She stood from her stool and rolled away, “times not ticking away too fast. You’re all good, no dilating.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to step out so you can get redressed then I’ll come back and we can do the ultrasound.”

“Okay.” I said as she made her way to the door. Once she was gone, Din helped me up and get changed back into the clothes I came here in. Then he poked his head out to let her know she could come back in.

“So I know a lot of bounty hunting families usually don’t get many scans so I wanted to make sure you got at least on last one before he gets here.” She explained as she set up the machine.

“Thank you.” I said.

“Of course.” She smiled.

We continued making small talk as she did the ultrasound. I held Din’s hand the whole time and when she turned the screen around to show us, I felt him squeeze my hand tightly. Tears pricked up behind my eyes at the sight of our little bean. It was only a matter of time before he was here, which both terrified me and made me feel excited.

“Okay, well he’s looking good, I’ll print a few pictures out for you then you’ll be on your way.” She said while pressing a few buttons and then handing me a couple of towels to wipe the gel off with.

She printed them out and handed them to me. Din helped me up and we went back to the front.

“You have a good day.” The lady at the front said.

“We haven’t paid yet.” I said in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it.” Avi said waving us off.

“We couldn’t.” I insisted and Din agreed.

Avi walked up closer to us and sighed slightly, “I grew up in a bounty hunting family. I know the credits are hard to make stretch, especially when you already have one little one at home. So please, let us cover this for you, think of it as a baby gift.” She said with a kind smile.

“Thank you, we really appreciate it.” Din said.

“Yes, that’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome, now get going, you have bed rest to get to.” She joked.

We laughed as we walked off and back to the ship. Once we were back Din was not playing around with the bed rest. He had me give him to coordinate for Avis after he had me settled on our bed. He found a couple of extra pillows and brought them down so I could sit up comfortably.

“Alright, so Avis is quite literally on the opposite side of the galaxy. It’s going to take at least four days to get there, and that’s without stopping, but we’re going to need to refuel tomorrow and probably pick up some supplies so I’d say probably five maybe six days until we get there.” Din said after he came back down from the cockpit.

“Okay, I’ll need to let them know we’re coming when we’re about a day out.” I said sitting up a little more.

He nodded. “Are you hungry at all? I was going to make the kid some food.”

“Yeah. Can I go sit in the kitchen with you?” I asked.

“If you want to, yeah.”

I nodded and moved so he could help me up. He led me into the kitchen and I sat at the table with the kid.

“Hey, buddy.” I said smiling at him. Though I had seen him earlier it felt like I hadn’t seen him all day since I’d been in bed all day.

He giggled and smiled up at me.  After we ate, I decided to stay at the table and get some stuff done. I asked Din to bring me anything we had for the Bean so I could make a list of things that we still needed. It was a long list and I knew it was, but we needed to get what we were missing.

Din took the kid up into the cockpit to play for a little bit. I laid out everything we had for him. So far we had the blanket that we got with the kid’s, the few clothes from Omera, a few onesies that we’d picked up here and there on supply runs as well as a few other odds and ends. A lot of what we needed still was furniture for his room when we get to Avis.

I had an old friend that was still on Avis who knew that I was pregnant and was traveling with an old friend with a foundling. She had been the one taking care of my place there. She had already moved a new dresser into one of the small rooms in my apartment and was working on finding another one for the Bean.

I told her a week ago that I was coming back and she was working on getting it ready for us. She had never met Din, but she knows who he is because of how much I’ve told her. Besides Din, she was one of the people I was the closest to.

After I folded everything back up, I had nothing better to do so I decided to get up and clean the kitchen a little. It wasn’t that messy so it wouldn’t take that long, I would be fine. Plus I was tired of sitting. My back was to the doorway and I didn’t hear him walk back in as I washed the last bowl.

I heard him slump against the wall and turned around to face him, the bowl still in my hands.

The moment I saw him the bowl was slipping from my grasp and onto the floor. Luckily it wasn’t breakable so it didn’t shatter upon impact with the hard floor.

“Din-I… you.” I stuttered.

“You’re not supposed to be on your feet for long.” He pushed off the wall and walked towards me, placing his hands on my waist once he was close enough.

His entire body language screamed anxiety though he tried to hide it, and he looked down at me with a nervous look on his face.

My hands reached up slowly and rested against his cheeks, the stubble on his cheeks pricking at my hands slightly. I couldn’t believe that I was looking at him right now.

“Smile.” I said, already smiling myself.

He forced an obviously fake smile.

“That’s not your real smile.” I said.

“You’ve never seen my smile, how do you know that’s not my real smile?” He said chuckling slightly, his true smile finally revealing itself to me.

I felt tears prick at my eyes as the emotions of the situation hit me. This just solidified the fact that we were married and it was the first time I had seen his face since we were children. Sure I had held his face before when we’ve kissed under the protection of darkness, but that does little to create a real image of what he looks like. He was so handsome, beautiful even.

“Din, you’re beautiful.” I mumbled and I felt his cheeks heat up under my hands.

“It’s nothing compared to you.” He said smoothly and leaned down to press a kiss to my lips.

I kept my hands on his cheeks, but they slowly crept up into his hair and ran through the soft curls. This earned a small hum of pleasure from him. I pulled away giggling slightly. I ran my fingers through his hair one last time before the clasped behind his neck. I didn’t realize how long his hair had gotten, it was falling in front of his eyes.

“You need a haircut.” I commented.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped a little as he cracked an amused smile.

“You haven’t even seen my face for a full five minutes and you’re already making adjustments?” He teased.

“No, I just want to be able to see your eyes better. Your hair is covering them some. Sorry I want to see my handsome husband's entire face.” I said sweetly.

“Well, I can’t say no to that.” He said leaning down to press another kiss to my lips.

“I love you.” I said after we pulled apart.

“I love you too, always have, always will.” He said.

We stood there for a few more moments.

“You should probably go sit.” He said and I sighed.

“You’re right, I’m actually going to go take a nap. You should come join me if you can.” I said stepping away from him.

“I’ll try.” He said.

I walked past him and took a moment as he bent over to pick up the bowl I had dropped to playfully smack his butt. He froze for a split second.

“You’ll regret that.” He said his voice was lower than usual. He stood and gave me a warning look.

I smirked, “Doubt it.” I said and winked before walking out of the room and to our bunk.

I was laying down for maybe ten minutes when he came in to join me. The kid was down for his nap as well.

“Oh is it time for me to regret what I did?” I asked sitting up slightly.

“Nope. The doctor said you needed to rest, No strenuous activity until after the baby is born. So, I guess that’ll have to wait. Sorry, doctor’s orders.” He teased as he settled in behind me.

I smirked, laying back down. “You know, there are other ways you could have made me learn my lesson.” I hinted.

“Oh, well if your offering you could-”

“But you’re right, we probably shouldn’t. Doctor’s orders.” I cut him off.

“You’re a tease, you know that?” He said gruffly.

“When I want to be. Now hush, it’s nap time.” I said relaxing into him.

He laughed lightly then wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me close and sighed in contentment.

“Get some rest.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my head, just behind my ear.

Tag list: 

@smarticles96​  @phoenixhalliwell @fioccodineveautunnale @reallyfuckingangrylatina @fan-g0rl @ithinksheneedsahug​ @lchufflepuffcorn​ @weebnumber3622​ @bunniotomia​ @talesfromtheguild​ @killtherandomness​ @mserynlarsen​ @squishybitchy​ @herbo-hours​ @kaylafreakinrose​ @agingerindenial​

As always, thank y’all for the support, I hope you enjoyed!! (Sends huggs to everyone who read this) 

also I did tags differently this time so if something didn’t work and you realized you weren’t taged please let me know. 

[swanandphoenixsong]

Aliit - Ao3

Chapter 3: Mandalorian History

Series: Part 2 of the Star Wars - Nouveau AU series

Chapter Summary: Here I will provide a history lesson, with Bo-Katan first, then with the cadets. With both parties, their perspectives are subjective, so keep that in mind.

In my version of events, Duke Adonai Kryze united the Mandalorian Clans on Kalevala as a faithful Mandalorian warrior, before adopting the New Mandalorians’ ideals (and becoming the Duke of the Mandalore sector) during Satine and Bo-Katan’s childhoods.

I’m adding Deputy Minister Jerec and Prince/Senator Tal Merrik to Satine’s family. Jerec will be Duke Adonai’s brother, and Tal Merrik would be related to Satine’s mother, who I’ve named Mirlia Merrik. Tal Merrik won’t show up too much yet, as I don’t know how to characterize him, but considering his title, I figured he had to have some relation Satine or Jerec.

Notes: With Kalevala, I wanted to bring back some diversity to Mandalorian culture (and their demographics/ethnicities). Specifically, I’m drawing from Maori & Oceanic cultures (from Boba & Jango Fett’s actor, Temuera Morrison, and Clan Ordo in KOTOR I & II and SWTOR) and Sámi & Finnish/Karelian culture (as the name Kalevala comes from a Finnish/Karelian epic). I’ve attempted to be respectful when reaching for inspiration but I can guarantee it’s not perfect. Please let me know if there’s anything that stands out glaringly.

I also researched the Mandalorians, the Ba’jurne Kyr’stad Mando’ad, and Jango Fett "Open Seasons" through Wookieepedia, but having not read the comics, I know my version of events may not match up, especially to fit in with Clone Wars canon, so try to keep that in mind. Also, the characters don’t know the full story, as the New Mandalorians have censored their history and Death Watch’s version of events has never been wholly accurate.

With the cadets, just wanted to address that I gave Soniee back her cybernetic visor and Korkie his ginger hair. You’ll see more of their characterizations here, along with my version of Bo-Katan and Korkie’s backstories. Keep in mind that the information may be skewed slightly, as for Korkie, he’s getting it secondarily from Satine and what Bo-Katan told him when he was still a child.

See my "Set-up" work for a full timeline of events prior to 19 BBY. archiveofourown.org/works/31826422/chapters/78866083

Translations of Mando’a: *Cabur’ade – protectors or guardians, Kalevalan militia similar to the Journeyman Protectors of Concord Dawn alor’ad – captain *Kaleval’ade – Mando’a term for Kalevalan chakaar – thief, petty criminal, scumbag; literally: "grave robber"; general term of abuse gar serim – you’re right, that’s it Ne shab’rud’ni . . . – "Don't mess with me..."; extremely strong warning likely to be followed by violence *k’susulu – (command) listen Kyr’tsad – Mando’a name for Death Watch; literally: "Death Society" *vod’ad – niece or nephew, or child of my friend ori’buyce, kih’kovid – "All helmet, no head." –Mandalorian insult for someone with an overdeveloped sense of authority ori’haat – I swear it, no bull udesii – "calm down" or "take it easy" or’dinii – moron or fool *ka’rta be’cabur – heart of a protector, guardian nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la – not gone, merely marching far away; a Mandalorian belief about death or afterlife ret’urcye mhi – may we meet again ner – my *ka’rta’ad – child of heart or soul, foundling, adoptive child beskad – beskar short-saber

– –

19 BBY – Esplanade, Kalevala, before Death Watch has fully set up camp on Zanbar

Bo-Katan may have been born on Mandalore, but Kalevala was home.

It was just as beautiful as she remembered it. Snow-peaked mountains to the north, bordering the grassy lakelands that met the gleaming oceans to the south. The evening market of Esplanade sparkled with hanging lanterns and strings of lights, the sound of drinking songs wafting in from docked ships or the bustling cantina. And the people– their wide demographics were much more diverse than they had been in Sundari. There were still pale-faced blondes and freckled gingers among them, but there were just as many with umber, tawny, ochre, and in-between brown shades of skin, with varied lengths of hair in curls, braids, or tussled waves from black, to mahogany, to russet, as well as lighter colors.

This, the rich diversity of Mandalorian culture, is what she had sorely missed during her days at the Academy.

While Pre Vizsla and most of Death Watch were setting up camp on Zanbar, Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls had traveled throughout the Mandalore sector, running recon, gathering resources, and recruiting more Mandalorians to their cause.

They had landed at the Merrik estate, just between the Sisu mountain range and the Fadno lakelands, and headed to Koha Bay’s coast to meet with civilians as well as members of the Cabur’ade, the local militia of Kalevala. They met in a dimly lit warehouse near the docks, giving the usual speech and handing out manifesto pamphlets to their audience. After, they gathered around tables and shared stories, building a rapport with their potential recruits.

Bo-Katan and her closest lieutenant, Ursa of Clan Wren on Krownest, sat at a table with Alor’ad Toa Ordo and his second-in-command, Lani Varad. Varad’s daughter, Kalei, closer in age to Bo-Katan and Ursa, stood at their side. The Varads had brown skin, a shade of dark bronze, and coarse umber waves tied back. In contrast, Ordo looked more beige, like a typical Sundari resident, but his skin was tanned and freckled from navigating under the sun. Like many Kalevalan locals, they were calloused and hardy, experienced in sailing the seas, harvesting the lakes, and hunting on the mountains. Many warriors of Mandalore had once been trained on Kalevala, before the New Mandalorians outlawed their old traditions.

Ordo set aside his drink and regarded Bo-Katan with his seasoned gaze. His voice echoed, surely overheard by nearby tables. He spoke with a voyager’s accent, the manner of his voice commanding respect. “I understand your plight. Many Mandalorians would appreciate the return of the old ways. But it was not long ago that Kalevala was a target of Death Watch’s schemes.”

Bo-Katan knew he spoke of the attack that killed Deputy Minister Jerec Kryze, just around two years ago, shortly after Senator and Prince Tal Merrik of Kalevala had been revealed as loyal to Death Watch and eliminated for threatening Duchess Satine and the passengers aboard the Coronet. Death Watch had orchestrated the attack on Kalevala in order to obtain recordings of Minister Jerec to be sent to Coruscant with Vizsla’s former second-in-command. After the assassin had failed their mission and the true recording had been shown in the Senate, Death Watch had lost favor with Count Dooku and the Separatists.

“However,” Ordo continued, “I do not speak for everyone here. Some Kaleval’ade already joined your cause when Merrik’s loyalty was revealed, while others were rightly upset by Jerec’s death and how the Separatists attempted to use his words for their own gain.”

“And what’s your view?” Bo-Katan asked, watching the other tables with her helmet’s HUD, measuring how they listened in to her and the captain’s conversation.

He looked her over, pausing at the Nite Owl and Clan Kryze sigils on her armor. “How’d you end up with Death Watch, anyway?” He asked instead, avoiding her question.

Bo-Katan barely managed not to sigh with contempt, and was glad that her vocoder didn’t pick up the stifled sound. She disliked sharing her personal history with recruits, but she understood that it helped to gain their trust. She just hoped they were worth the trouble.

“I was educated at the Royal Academy of Government on Mandalore. I had known Governor Vizsla of Concordia for most of my life.”

Although he hadn’t known of her personal history until a year ago.

“Why am I not surprised,” the elder Varad interrupted gruffly, “that sneaky chakaar would prey on naïve children to fill his ranks.”

Bo-Katan grit her teeth. “I was no naïve child when I joined. I grew up watching how the New Mandalorians stamped out anyone who disagreed with their views. I know what happened to the exiled warriors on Concordia, and how their sympathizers, regardless of their origins, suffered the same fate.”

Varad looked ready to argue, but Ordo held up a hand, asserting his authority. “That is true. But I wonder how much you know of what’s really been going on for the past forty years. I assume you know that the former Duke and his family were originally from Kalevala?” Bo-Katan nodded. “Are you also aware that Duke Adonai Kryze was once a warlord, and not a New Mandalorian pacifist?”

“Gar serim, he was exactly the faithful warrior that any Mandalorian should aspire to be. The New Mandalorians converted him and his allies to their cowardly beliefs.”

Ordo hummed. “That’s not entirely true.” He paused for a long moment, a faint glimmer in his eyes. “I actually knew Adonai, more than professionally. We were childhood friends, and fierce rivals as gangly teenagers. It was an honor to spar with him, and we trusted each other with our lives. When he united Kalevalan clans, my family was the first to ally with him. When he declared his intentions to marry the princess of House Merrik, I was the one who endorsed his character. He was a faithful Mandalorian warrior, through and through.”

Bo-Katan furrowed her eyebrows beneath her visor. “But he changed–”

“Not at first. That came later, after his children were born.” He refilled his drink and knocked it back. “Before then, before he united the clans, there were turf wars in our region. Another, much smaller, clan got caught in between them. We were young and reckless, so we ran towards the danger, and they were just as afraid of us. We didn’t know the damage the enemy had caused, it ended up poisoning their lands. We were hardy and strong, and although we tried to help them, the weakest among their families suffered. We watched them die, and could do nothing.” He shook his head, clearly haunted by the memories. “When we united the clans against the thugs, it was in honor of that clan. It was our vengeance, and our duty.

“But after he was married, after he had a family of his own, he didn’t want their future to be of blood and war. So the Kryze and Merrik clans joined the New Mandalorians, and together promoted diplomacy and nonviolence, further advanced the technology of Sundari, and earned sovereignty over the Mandalore Sector.”

Bo-Katan tipped her head knowingly. “And what of Clan Ordo? What of the Kalevalan clans he left behind?”

Ordo shrugged. “I respected his choices. I did not agree with them, but I understood. Others did not.”

“And those others fought back. They protested against the New Mandalorians, and he ignored their pleas. Do you know how bad it was in Aloriya before the Civil War broke out?”

Aloriya had been a former capital of Mandalore, years before Sundari came to prosper. The city had suffered over time, exploited for labor in manufacturing the technology that went into Sundari, and the New Mandalorians had neglected to remedy the pollution they caused.

His gaze narrowed. “I do. The year before the Civil War, there were disastrous storms and earthquakes on Kalevala, ruining homes and infrastructure, and our resources were unable to fully meet the expectations of Mandalore. Princess Satine wasn’t just sent to Coruscant to learn diplomacy. She was sent to learn of the Republic and determine if they were capable of sending aid without exploiting our vulnerability. The Mandalore Sector has been neutral and independent, separate from the Republic, for centuries, and for good reason.”

Bo-Katan slammed her fist on the table. “You’re ignoring a crucial detail, just as the New Mandalorians did. Aloriya was starving, and the Duke’s administration deliberately turned a blind eye toward their suffering. They would not share their resources with them, just because they were outsiders.”

Many members of Aloriya’s clans had been of diverse heritage or were non-humans, thus victims of discrimination and bigotry, which he would know, if he was as well-informed as he implied.

Ordo sighed heavily. “You are correct in that. But there is something more you do not understand. The administration was not wholly his.” His expression grew even darker than before. “The New Mandalorians have a long history of corruption and deceit. They are prejudiced against any offworlder, especially non-humans. Adonai had hoped to change them from the inside. He underestimated their biases, and often held his tongue when he should have challenged their reforms. In the end, any power he had, came from them.”

“If you knew this,” Bo-Katan spat, “then why couldn’t you convince him of the truth?”

Ordo shook his head. “Those fifteen years had changed him. He was in too deep and wouldn’t listen to reason. Just the same as you.”

“Ne shab’rud’ni . . .”

“K’susulu,” Toa whispered, and gestured for her to come closer, “Adonai was just one man in a game that’s been going on for centuries. And the New Mandalorians aren’t the only enemy here. Do you know the history of your beloved Death Watch?”

Bo-Katan grit her teeth and waited for him to continue.

“The Kyr’tsad has existed for far longer than you know. And they are just as prejudiced as the New Mandalorians. Do you know what part they played in the Battle of Galidraan?”

There was a beat of silence. This was something Bo-Katan did not know, and she was loath to admit it.

“How about this– do you know the names Tor Vizsla and Jaster Mereel?”

She did not.

“What of Jango Fett?”

That one she did know. Pre had said he was a common bounty hunter, and had no right to the armor he wore.

Ordo smirked, as if he knew that he had caught her. He took one last drink. “I know this is a battle I’ve already lost. You’re in a cult, vod’ad, and your sister has been groomed for her role since she was a child. It will take more than simple words for you to realize that. Come back when you’re willing to listen.”

Bo-Katan was baffled, and utterly seething. How dare he claim to know her story, or her identity as Satine’s sister? Her chair fell over with a deafening clack! when she stood too quickly. He was dismissing her like an unruly child, and part of her certainly wanted to react like one. But she knew all their efforts would go to waste if she threatened their captain, and so she simply left, her head held high and her back stiff.

She felt like a coward.

Wren and the others soon followed. They would find out tomorrow whether they had made any progress.

In the morning, they gained six recruits, and surprisingly, Kalei Varad was among them.

“Can I trust you?” Bo-Katan demanded, once she had cornered her in the hangar.

Kalei chuckled darkly. “You can trust me not to put a knife in your back. I use a rifle.”

Bo shoved her, not amused.

She laughed again. “What? I’m joking. I want to join you. I listened to what you said last night. Toa and my mother have higher priorities, they can’t leave the Cabur’ade. But I have no such responsibilities. And if we’re being honest, I think they respected what you said, much more than you realize. I know I did. Just don’t ask me to show Vizsla the same respect.”

“And why is that?”

“Ori’buyce, kih’kovid. You both have a talent for grand speeches. But on Kalevala, trust is earned with actions, not words.”

“And so I ask again,” Bo insisted, “can I trust you?”

Varad held up a hand with a smirk. “Ori’haat. Let me prove my loyalty with my actions. If I fail, you’re free to just shoot me.”

“I’m seriously contemplating it right now.”

She laughed again, and Bo was honestly annoyed. What is her game? She wondered wordlessly.

“C’mon, Princess, udesii. You’re the one that recruited me, remember?”

“I could revoke my invitation, specifically for you.”

“Naw, you want me around. Remember what Ordo said, that it was an honor to spar with Adonai?” Bo-Katan cocked her head minutely, and Varad grinned wider. “I think it’d be my privilege to spar with you.”

“You enjoy getting your ass kicked by a princess?”

“As I said, it would be my privilege.”

Bo-Katan shook her head with exasperation. “C’mon then, let’s get you some armor, or’dinii.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

– –        

19 BBY – Sundari, Mandalore, a few days before Maul executes Pre Vizsla

Korkie and the cadets had taken refuge in the safehouse the night of the first attack of the crime families. He knew the coordinates from years ago, as it had been a safe refuge during his childhood. He now shared it with his closest friends: Amis, Soniee, and Lagos, fellow cadets at the academy.

“So, what is this place?” Soniee had asked, flipping through holo-images on her wrist-display as they moved down to the lower level.

“It’s a safehouse of Auntie Satine’s. She and our family hid here whenever her position was threatened, but she hasn’t used it for a while now. I come here whenever she’s away on Coruscant, just as a precaution.”

The others continued on, Lagos making tea, Amis going to check the storage, and Soniee researching Death Watch and the crime syndicates at his side. Korkie sat at the dining table, scratching at his stiff neck, still uncomfortable with returning here.

Amis rejoined them a few minutes later, carrying a small crate. His eyes never left the short-saber hilt poking through the pile of family mementos and holo-images. “There’s a couple crates full of this stuff. Why did your aunt it keep them here, instead of at the palace? Looks personal.”

“Maybe it is personal,” Lagos said, setting down the tea.

Korkie took a cup gratefully, cherishing the warmth before he answered. “She didn’t want it in the palace, just in case.”

“In case someone found it?” Amis asked.

“In case she was killed.” Korkie corrected, taking one of the family portraits from the pile. “She wanted her family’s things to survive, even if her life was forfeit.” The portrait was of her family on Kalevala, about two years before the Mandalorian Civil War. At the back was her father, Duke Adonai Kryze, and his wife, Duchess Mirlia of House Merrik. Alongside them was Deputy Minister Jerec Kryze, and Mirlia’s younger sister, Lady Bes’laar Merrik. In front of them stood Jerec’s twin teenage daughters, Yaim and Arum, and between them, were adolescents Prince Tal Merrik and Princess Satine.

“Who’s that?” Amis asked, pointing to the toddler Satine held.

Korkie sighed again. Perhaps Satine had hidden this here, just to avoid questions like these. “It’s a long story, Amis. But I suppose I have the time to share it, as much of it that I know, anyway.” He dug deeper and found one of Satine’s old journals, turning to the page bookmarked with a metal hairpin, resembling a mandalorum lily. “Soniee?”

“On it.” She had lowered her visor slightly, probably letting her tech hack into the databases while they talked. She closed her research and set down her pack, taking out her tablet. She set it on the table and projected the New Mandalorians’ recent history, just under thirty years ago.

“Auntie Satine had a younger sister, Bo-Katan. She was born about six years before the most recent Mandalorian Civil War. Before their time, Satine and Bo-Katan’s father, Adonai Kryze, was essentially a warlord, attempting to unite the clans of Kalevala and Mandalore. After he married Princess Mirlia Merrik and started his family, he became a changed man. During Satine’s childhood, he converted to the New Mandalorians’ ways of pacifism and neutrality. A few years later, he had been appointed as ruler of the Mandalore sector.”

Amis frowned. “Mandalore has changed a lot in the last thirty years.”

Korkie nodded. “The New Mandalorians had been steadily growing in number and power over the past several centuries, but even more so now, in the twenty-three years since Satine became Duchess and the former warriors were exiled to Concordia. Clan traditions, warrior training, religious practices, they were all thrown by the wayside. What do you all know about your clan history?”

“Soniee probably knows the most.” Lagos said, taking a sip of tea as she sat across from Korkie. “My family is loyal to the New Mandalorians, and we idolize your aunt.” She ran a hand through her hair, probably missing the mandalorum lilies she used to wear. “They never taught me much of clan history, but I know our ancestors were as much brave Mandalorians as anyone else’s.”

Soniee placed her hand on her shoulder. “My family is similar, but I’ve done more research, of course. My family has kept old records dating back almost a century, and we may have more data off-world. They tried to keep it secret, but it was nothing my tech couldn’t handle. Clan Dochek was known for our inventive tactics, linguistic charisma, and technological adaptability.”

Amis snickered. “Something you inherited.” He looked up, locking eyes with Korkie. “Clan Ordo were faithful Mandalorians of Kalevala, before the recent Civil War, just like Clan Kryze.” He turned toward the crate, taking out the sheathed short-saber, almost cradling it in his hands. “My family and I were invited to visit my uncle on Kalevala, after we exposed Almec’s corruption. He showed me how to wield one of these. He said I may have the mind of a student, but I also had a ka'rta be’cabur. I told him I didn’t know what that meant, and he taught me everything he could in the short time we were there. I haven’t heard from him since we left, as he and my parents had a falling out. They won’t talk about him anymore. They probably think he joined Death Watch, but I doubt it.”

Korkie nodded. “Like you said, Clan Kryze were faithful Mandalorians once, but things changed. According to Auntie Satine, her father had seen the destruction and suffering of his people, and he wanted to bring peace. He took up pacifism and became a part of the New Mandalorians, as did many within his clan. His assassination is what started the most recent Mandalorian Civil War. At the time, Auntie Satine was on Coruscant, training in diplomacy. The Galactic Senate had her escorted back to Mandalore, protected by the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and his padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Soniee brought up some records, showing the well-known Jedi Knights. “He more recently protected Satine during the Death Watch assassination attempts on Mandalore, the Coronet, and Coruscant.”

“Yes, Satine hadn’t seen Kenobi since they retook Mandalore, a year after the deaths of her parents.”

“It took them a year to get to here?” Lagos asked. “Must’ve been an eventful escort mission.”

Korkie smiled, skipping over pages in his Aunt’s journal. “It was. She hasn’t told me all of it, but I know she and Obi-Wan grew close, during that time. He’s been a good friend to her since then, especially when Deputy Minister Jerec died.”

Korkie looked up again, seeing Amis frown as he tightly gripped the sheathed saber. “My uncle told me about the bombing on Kalevala and how the Senate tried to twist Jerec’s words after his death. He was livid about it, even if he didn’t agree with the Minister’s pacifist ideals.”

Korkie nodded. “When Satine and the Jedi finally got to Mandalore, those same ideals had been tested. After assassinating the royalty and seizing resources for their people, the warrior clans fell into civil war, causing chaos within Sundari and Aloriya. Satine’s twin cousins, young adult daughters of Minister Jerec, were here too, as they were responsible for watching over Bo-Katan. By the time Satine and the Jedi rallied the New Mandalorians, one of the twins, Arum, had been killed. Clan Sharratt, who had orchestrated the assassinations and the war, had taken the remaining twin, Yaim, and Bo-Katan as hostages in Aloriya. Led by Satine and the Jedi, the New Mandalorians took siege of Aloriya and liberated her family, and Satine claimed her rightful mantle as Duchess, bringing an end to the War.”

The room went quiet, the others solemn. Soniee brought up the records of Satine’s homecoming and subsequent coronation. “There were calls for executions of the attackers.”

“Aunt Satine refused,” Korkie told them, “She wanted to honor her father’s wishes and spare their lives, despite all that they had done. Instead, they were exiled to Concordia, and Mandalorian Space was fully reformed with a more diplomatic government, disbanding the clan traditions of our ancestors. With Satine’s administration they established Sundari into the beacon it is today. But not everyone thought that was a good idea.”

Soniee brought up the star map of Mandalorian Space. “So, some of the warriors likely survived on Concordia, planting the seeds of Death Watch. Did Vizsla always sympathize with them, or was he converted? And what about Tal Merrik from Kalevala?”

“I don’t know,” said Korkie, “they had deceived Satine, while she believed everyone in her administration with staunch conviction. The last two years have weighed heavily upon her shoulders.”

“And what about Bo-Katan?” Lagos asked, “What happened to her and the cousin, Yaim, was it?”

Korkie sighed, looking back down at the journal. “Yaim stayed here with Satine and Bo-Katan, so that they could grow together, as a family, although they would make visits to Deputy Minister Jerec, as well as Lady Merrik and her family during Kalevala’s midsummer and midwinter holidays. Satine had established the Mandalorian royal guard, to protect her family’s lives as much as her own. Satine had her ethics and ideals as her driving force, wanting nothing more than to establish peace and neutrality, as her parents’ legacy. But Yaim and Bo-Katan were kept out of the spotlight, as they were traumatized by what they had witnessed in Sundari and Aloriya, and just wanted to be left alone. They didn’t always get along with Satine. This safehouse, and their trips to Kalevala, served as a refuge for them, away from politics and responsibilities.

“Yaim ended up meeting someone, on one of those visits to Kalevala, a couple years after the War. Their relationship helped her find happiness again, and Bo-Katan grew attached to both of them. Auntie thought that, for Bo-Katan, it was like having parents again.”

Korkie lifted the metal hairpin to show them, caressing its mended fractures. “This was Arum’s, before she died. It was Yaim’s most treasured possession, even though it had been broken by the tribal warriors. Yaim’s paramour, Arpat, repaired it with beskar as part of their marriage vows, about three years after they met, during the midsummer holiday. While Auntie Satine and Bo-Katan returned to Mandalore, she stayed behind on Kalevala.”

He passed the hairpin to Lagos and continued, “But there were secrets between Yaim, Arpat, and Bo-Katan.” Korkie looked to Amis again, focusing on the beskar saber he held. “Satine didn’t know much of it at the time, but she drew her suspicions together over the years. In secret, Yaim and Bo-Katan practiced old Mandalorian traditions and beliefs. Preserving the traditions gave Yaim closure for Arum’s death, and she shared that with Bo-Katan.

“Arpat had conflicting beliefs as well, having experienced the transition from clan traditions on Kalevala, rather than on Mandalore, the epicenter of the New Mandalorians’ administration. In the years before their marriage, Arpat and Yaim had taught Bo-Katan the archaic language of Mando’a, as well as the warrior culture, of armor and weaponry. Bo-Katan latched onto their teachings whole-heartedly, idolizing the ancient ways of our ancestors.

“During Satine and Bo-Katan’s next return for midwinter holiday, Yaim had discovered she was pregnant. When they discussed their future family, Arpat wanted Bo-Katan to stay with them on Kalevala. Yaim didn’t know if she could willingly separate Bo-Katan from her sister. Satine and Bo-Katan overheard them arguing about it and intervened. Satine and Arpat both said things they didn’t mean, and Bo-Katan, well–”

“She wanted to stay with them, didn’t she?” Amis interrupted, his voice shaky, but his gaze was tight, “If she thought of them as family, she would’ve– and it was what, five years after the War, right? So, she was like, eleven?”

Korkie nodded. “Yeah. She would be enrolling at the Royal Academy of Government the next year. Her relationship with Satine, during Bo’s early adolescence, was tense, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,” Soniee said, bringing up Kalevala on her tablet, “with knowing about Mandalorian traditions in secret, she probably resented her New Mandalorian education, as well as the time she spent away from Kalevala.”

“It was her lifeline,” Lagos whispered, setting down the hairpin. “If she was like Yaim, then Mandalorian traditions and beliefs were her connection to everything she had lost. Her parents and cousin Arum were all part of her life before the War, and with the reforms put in place by Duchess Satine and Deputy Minister Jerec, she was cut off from all that she had known. If she hadn’t had Yaim and Arpat preserving that culture, she would’ve lost it all.”

“Yes, and at the time,” Korkie continued, “Satine hadn’t discovered their secrets, as far as they knew. So, the argument was the climax of everything that had transpired without Satine’s knowledge. It only ended when Minister Jerec and the royal guard were alerted by their shouting. He made the decision for them, believing it was safer for Bo-Katan with the royal guard, and that it’d be better to continue her education on Mandalore.”

Korkie reached inside the crate, picking up another family portrait, “I was born within the next year, given the Kryze name to carry on the family legacy. Satine and Bo-Katan became my honorary aunts.” The portrait, as he showed to the others, was of his parents holding him as an infant, and Grandpa Jerec, Auntie Satine, and Bo-Katan standing around them. Yaim looked like her father, with ginger hair and high cheekbones, which Korkie inherited. But he would have Arpat’s nose and ears, which Bo-Katan had teased him about, as he grew up. She had been like an older sister to him, once upon a time.  

“Bo-Katan and Satine grew closer during her years at the Academy, especially when they stayed here at the safehouse. Despite Bo’s resentment toward the New Mandalorian ways, she could confide in Satine, missing Yaim and Arpat, and reminiscing about their lost family members. It was during this time that Satine had gleaned the truth. There would be things that Bo-Katan would say, things she couldn’t have remembered or couldn’t have learned in her education. However, even when three years had passed since the climactic argument, she delayed confronting anyone about it, not wanting to upset her family.

“During the next midwinter holiday on Kalevala, while Jerec, Satine, and Bo-Katan watched over me, my parents had planned a few nights alone together in the mountains. There was a tempestuous blizzard, causing an avalanche down the mountainside.”

Korkie went silent, his throat sore from more than just talking. His hands shook slightly around his teacup, the ceramic having cooled during their conversation. Lagos steadied his hand, and Soniee sat next to him, leaning against his shoulder. Amis set down the saber and leaned over the table, his gaze communicating sympathy.

“Auntie Satine became my guardian, and I went to live with her and Bo-Katan here on Mandalore. Auntie Satine forgot about Bo’s secrets for a while, as raising me became the focus of their lives.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it.” Amis said knowingly.

“No,” Korkie replied. “Once I was old enough to understand, Bo-Katan shared with me the same comforts that Yaim had given her after the War.”

“Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” Amis recited reverently.

"Not gone, merely marching far away," Soniee translated.

Lagos looked away from them, still cradling the metal hairpin in her other hand.

“Every holiday on Kalevala,” Korkie continued, “or when we were alone at this safehouse, she taught me more about the history of Clan Kryze and the old Mandalorians. For the most part, it was fun, sneaking around to keep our secret from Auntie Satine and Grandpa Jerec.”

Korkie looked over at the beskar saber. “That blade once belonged to Duke Adonai. Yaim had recovered it in secret, along with other weapons and armor, from House Kryze on Kalevala, before the New Mandalorians had finished clearing out everything else. She and Arpat showed Bo-Katan how to use it when she was old enough, and then Bo passed it on to me, almost ten years ago.

“When she did, she swore to me ‘ret’urcye mhi, ner ka’rta’ad.’”

“May we meet again, my foundling.” Amis translated.

Korkie nodded. “The morning after, Bo-Katan was gone, along with everything that she and my parents had hidden here, away from Auntie Satine. That hairpin is all she had left behind. Auntie Satine comforted me and revealed she had known the truth for a long time, but never had the courage to face it. Neither of us had any idea why Bo-Katan had disappeared so suddenly, or where she had gone.

“In the ten years that have passed, I depended upon Aunt Satine and have come to understand why she had left behind the old traditions. Before she became Duchess, she and her parents had seen the Mandalorian clans wage war against each other, spewing hate and discord, and when her father unified them and turned toward pacifism, they responded with violence, executing her parents and killing innocents. Even after she ushered in years of peace and prosperity, those old beliefs festered resentment and tore apart her family.

“When Auntie Satine returned from Coruscant, after Vizsla was exposed and Death Watch had made attempts upon her life, Satine confided in me, here at the safehouse. With the involvement of Tal Merrik and the death of Minister Jerec, she suspected that Death Watch had recruited someone who was accustomed to Kalevala’s terrain and had intimate knowledge of the dynamics of the royal family, in order to strike where she was most vulnerable.”

“It was Bo-Katan,” Soniee said with deafening finality, “she had betrayed her family.”

“That is what we concluded, although she and Death Watch would likely claim Satine, Jerec, and the New Mandalorians were traitors first, having abandoned the ancient traditions. But she is still complicit in the violence and destruction, the death of innocents, the murder of my grandfather, and attempting to kill her own sister.”

“And yet,” Lagos interjected, “despite all of that, and with the Confederacy, the Clone Wars, the corruption among her administration and in the Republic, Duchess Satine’s resolve for neutrality and preserving all life has never been stronger.”

Amis agreed, “If Death Watch had ever wanted to unite our people and undermine the beliefs of New Mandalorians, then they have failed.”

“But the public won’t see it that way.” Soniee brought up the footage of the crime syndicates’ attack on the shipping docks, from only hours ago, followed by how Death Watch arrested the criminals. “Why did the crime families attack, and how did Death Watch know to intervene? It can’t be a coincidence.”

Korkie looked up towards her. “Keep trying to hack into whatever databases you have access to, and record everything you find. Someone is playing with Mandalore’s future, and we have to figure out who.”

Soniee nodded, taking up her tablet and checking in on her visor.

He turned toward Lagos and Amis. “Keep what resources we use to a minimum and pack up the rest. Strategize for defense and mobility; Bo-Katan knows about this place and we have to be ready if she comes here.” Korkie stood, repacking his aunt’s journal and the portraits. “I’ll sort through what else is in those crates.”

Lagos gathered up their mugs and Soniee followed her to the kitchenette. Amis stood by Korkie, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What do we do when Bo-Katan inevitably does show up here?”

Korkie looked to the Duke’s saber, his expression grim. “We do what we must and defend our way of life.” He lifted the sheathed beskad and offered it to Amis, “You have more recent training with it than I do. Be prepared to use it.”

Amis nodded, fastening the scabbard on his belt, then looking back up at Korkie, “When we have the time, I can show you and the others what my uncle taught me. You might be surprised by how much you remember.”

Korkie gave a hint of a smile, “I hope so. I have a feeling this won’t end peacefully. If we have to contact to the Republic, the Clone Wars will be on our doorstep.”

Amis agreed, “Then the time for neutrality may be over.”

Endnotes: Varad said “I’m gonna flirt with the princess,” and I didn’t have the strength to hold her back. For Lani Varad, I drew inspiration from Shae Vizla of SWTOR.

[srbachchan]

DAY 4406(ii)

Jalsa, Mumbai                   Mar 30/31,  2020                   Mon/Tue 12:38 AM

Birthday - EF -  Sai Poorna Patnaik .. Ef Karen Ben Ezra .. Tuesday, March 31 .. greetings and love from all the Ef , and wishes for safety and care .. in these times of turmoil we pray and we live in the divine spirit for our protection

.. when you give .. the given is instantaneous and immediate .. without consideration or thought of any else .. intent and compassion in abundance .. for them that be deprived , in want and in the absence of many abundances that we that have never consider .. the joy then of the receiving from the deprived .. that expression of fulfilment .. of knowing that the night shall not be in the hunger of want .. and the look forward for the morning and the ending of a search for the next .. that is the life of fulfilment .. that is the embrace of a given !

2000 were fed again today and by the next few days , another 3000 shall be added to make it 5000 in the feeding of lunch and dinner .. stocks are scarce .. deliveries are being unable to operate .. volunteers needed to cook and make the packets for delivery are not moving out of their homes .. but there is hope that by April the 2nd the numbers shall increase .. and God willing it shall be 15,000 to be fed for an entire month , every day .. 

AND .. as this operation has found its feet and moves along .. the planning for that bigger effort slowly fructifies .. I live in effort and prayer each night and wake up alarmed at times to make it happen .. the links the management the statistics of the exercise .. all looking so difficult .. but the need drives one to its completion and execution .. and there is need for divine help in its execution .. for in the mind and thought it all falls into place , yet there is dependence on the ‘other’ .. and that has ever been a struggle ..

.. of that and more, then, in time  ..

In the solace of yourself .. which, incidentally, is the best time of existence .. within the desert of our own .. pleasant and carefree .. no encumbrances , no scheduled rulings , no living on the contexts of any other .. that be the moment of ..

NOW ..

.. and invariably Babu ji .. finding a wrapped book of old in his material left behind .. a writing of his Grandfather, his Nana ji .. my great grand Father .. 

.. its the Dewaan è Hafiz , the collection of the great Sufi poet .. and its entire transcript in my great grandfather’s own handwritten text ..

.. that be my Great Grandfather’s handwritten pages .. his name Ishwari Prasad .. my Father’s Nana .. my Father’s Mother’s Father .. the Father’s Father is Dada .... and suddenly there is so much nostalgia of remembrance and the stories of yore ..

.. so in pursuit of the presence of my Father , I open his ‘Rachnavali’ - the anthology, the collection of all his works in 11 volumes of well leather crafted designed, that adorn , among the divinity of the earlier post , my desk .. 

.. one should never be too far away from divinity and paternal presence ..

.. and I open a page .. and his poem so apt for the day and time stares at me .. a mere coincidence of its text and content .. written in 1937 -38 .. but relevant to me as I prepare to retire ( errr .. to bed, not from profession, as the over enthu’ yellow pencilled band of brothers and sisters , so willingly wish for me to be .. ) .. and I reproduce ..

.. half the night has passed .. 

lie I in bed eyes wide open awake, in the dependence of my conscious self , when indeed the entire world be lost in the magical world of dream ..

.. half the night has passed .. 

.. the silence of the night do I hear, where the sound of the dew drops from the sky in the eyes, bring the only drenched music of the night ..

.. half the night has passed ..

.. gives me so much assurance and hope ; that ray of the moon light from the hours gone by that peeps from my window, to lie beside me in slumber ..

.. half the night has passed ..

AAHHHH .. lost in translation .. such a pity that language builds bridges .. poetry builds ‘just’ emotions .. and often the verse crosses over the bridge to bring solace peace and well being on the ‘other’ ..

Good night and be safe ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[astoldbycrimson]

May I?

Summary: Loss can bring closeness. Tenderness. And undeniable love.

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, loss of a loved one, sweet sweet fluff

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5

---------------------

As a small child, your mother told you stories of life in the Rebel Alliance. Tales of battle and honor. Life and death. She spoke with intensity that brought every story to life. With each new addition, you longed for an adventure of your own. Of traversing the galaxy and finding a cause worthy of your skill.

And your father spoke of his own journey. The life of a jedi. He was more soft spoken, not quite as boisterous as your mother. But his tales were full of battles too. The most important battle being the Empire versus the jedi. Forces of light and dark. Heroes and tyrants. Every tale had you dreaming of your own journey. Of toppling a kingdom corrupt with power and greed. Of saving a people unjustly marked for elimination under a tyrannical regime. 

Then they shared how their chosen paths ultimately led them to each other. Of course they both had experienced pain, strife, and struggles along the way. But they found love in the most unexpected places. And then their love brought you into the picture. So you couldn't help but envision an adventure that included a love of your own.

However, your desire for adventure had come to a screeching halt when your mother was killed. After that, you only thought of becoming strong. Someone strong enough to protect the people you loved. So your father had taken it upon himself to teach you the ways of the jedi. To use the Forces of Light to hone your skills and find strength within yourself.

You also had your village and grandmother to teach you how to embrace your Dathomir Witch heritage. To accept that balance was achievable between the Forces of Dark and Light. That knowing the ways of both sides didn't make you innately good or evil. It mattered not what skills you used, only why you chose to use them. 

Once you were fully trained and had mastered what you could, you thought back to the tales your parents had told you many cycles ago. And you began to dream of adventure once more. Now that you were strong, you wanted to find something worth fighting for. A cause worthy of your passion and your skill. An adventure beyond the stars of Dathomir. 

You hadn't expected to find all of that when you first met the Mandalorian in your father's cantina. Sure you knew you'd found a way off your planet. And that someone as strong and capable as a Mandalorian meant adventure, thrilling battles, and a chance to prove yourself. But you had no idea how strongly he'd change your dreams. Your future. Or that you'd find love aboard the Razor Crest, in a man carefully hidden beneath layers of protective armor. 

---------------------

Din found you curled up in your cot, buried beneath a pile of blankets, clutching your cloak to your chest. You heard him shuffle his feet before he finally spoke. "I… saw the message from your father, (Y/N)…" His tone was unreadable, masked by the filter of his helmet.

You didn't say anything or even turn to look at him. Your body was almost limp and your mind was heavy with thought, lost in memories too far away. 

"Cyar'ika, I'm sorry… about your grandmother." 

The news had hit you far harder than you were ready for. It stole the air from your lungs and practically brought you to your knees. Your grandmother was like a second mother to you. She helped raise you in your mother's place. Encouraged your thirst for knowledge, but grounded you when your hunger for power became incorrigible. She taught you the ancient ways of the Witches, how to utilize both sides of the Force, and how to be strong for yourself. 

"Thank you," you said almost robotically. 

Your Mandalorian had absolutely no idea how to help you. He wasn't used to seeing you so… heartbroken. You, the warrior who bounced back from everything, even near death experiences. You, the one who always had something to say. You, the one socially equipped to handle all this… emotion. Din was completely out of his element here.

"Do you… wish to return to Dathomir?" Perhaps being home, surrounded by your family would be better than in the middle of space with him. Maybe your homeland would help you find peace. Surely your father was more capable of handling matters of the heart than he was. 

You were silent a moment, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.  "...No. I just need a little time to come to terms with this." 

Going home would likely bring you more pain. It was filled with too many memories. Sure many were pleasant and filled with love, but there was also sorrow. Besides, going home after she was already gone wouldn't bring you comfort. You'd just be faced with the reality that she, like your mother, was dead. It was best to stay away from Dathomir right now.

He fidgeted with the panel on his arm. "...Do you want me to leave you alone?"

You closed your eyes and the tears came a little faster. While you didn't exactly want him to see you so incredibly vulnerable, you certainly didn't want to be alone. "...No." But you didn't express what you wanted him to do.

Din would abide by whatever you requested. If you needed space, he'd give you space. If you wanted to lose yourself in a bounty, he would go out and find you one. He just wasn't prepared for you to want him to stay. What was he supposed to do while you laid there suffering?

He wasn't sure what to do. Keep talking and offer words of comfort? Words of encouragement? You both knew that wasn't his strong point. So you didn't expect any sort of pep talk from the man. Just having him in the same room was comforting enough. 

The Mandalorian was at a loss. So his mind thought of the things that you found comfort in. Homemade food. Sweet scents. Soft clothing. Warm places. And touch. He knew how deeply you relied on it, being without your sight. How you found solace in even the simplest of touches. More specifically, his touches.

Din sighed softly, breaking the silence as he reached for his gloves. You turned slightly as you heard him unclasp them and tug them off. But you shrugged it off, snuggly deeper in your blankets. It wasn't until you heard the familiar sound of him removing his helmet that your attention drifted away from your thoughts.

After setting his helmet down on a table, he approached your nest and knelt down. His hand moved to caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that escaped your eye. You subconsciously leaned into his hand, grateful for the tender touch.

"...May I join you?" 

Now that completely surprised you. Din would offer a gentle touch here and there, maybe an embrace if he was really desperate for physical contact. But never something akin to cuddling. So, at first, you were unable to formulate a sentence at the thought. Though you quickly found your words, afraid he'd retract his offer. "...Please," it came out hoarse and almost like a plea.

You quickly scooted over to give him room and he carefully crawled under the blankets. Of course you prepared for the hard steel of his chest plate to press against your back, but you were pleasantly surprised by his lack of armor. He still had his tactical shirt and pants, but you still felt the warmth radiating off him.

Din brought his arms around you and pressed his lips carefully to your shoulder. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," he whispered into your skin as he held you close.

"What does that mean?" You ask quietly, leaning into his touch. While you were starting to learn bits and pieces of his language, you had no idea what this particular slew of words meant.

"It's a Mando'a phrase for the departed. 'Not gone, merely marching far away.'" His lips moved to your cheek. "She's still with you." 

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, touched by his words of comfort. Din was surprising you more and more. Had this happened at the start of your journey together, you would've been forced to deal with this loss in unbearable silence, hidden away in the refresher. But now, after having spent so much time with you, he was learning. Growing. Reminding you that there was a person beneath all that metal. And he had a heart. 

You turned around until your chests were touching. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your lips. "Toa lova jii," you whispered into his palm.

First he was flustered by you kissing his hand. And then his head tilted as you spoke. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was important. "...What does that mean?"

You smiled so softly, so sweetly at him. "It means I love you, Din."

And his breath hitched at your words. His chest grew tight as he took in the weight of what you said. Of course he knew how you felt. It was obvious in the way you kissed him. When you just needed to hold his hand or be in his space. But he never heard you say it before now. And Maker it sounded so beautiful in your native language. So natural and perfect.

Din raised his hands to cup your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," he whispered into your lips. You didn't need him to translate to know he felt the same. 

[inorganicone2230]

Purity (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summery: Overhaul meets a quirkless foreigner who holds some very interesting views on his way of thinking. The more time he spends with her, the more he wants to keep her and her purity for himself. And he has no problem with falling to the depths of obsession if it means getting what he wants.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Kai Chisaki certainly considered himself to be, above all else, a visionary, a Messiah meant to save the world from itself. He saw the world for what it truly was. A vile, rotten cesspool, filled to the brim with filth and ugliness, and plagued by a disease called quirks. Despite possessing a powerful one himself, he never considered it to be the blessing that other people did, not that he felt above using it to achieve his goals of course. He was going to be the one to set the world right again, and rule the underworld with an iron fist, so he begrudgingly realized that he would need the power of his quirk to accomplish said goal. No matter how much it sickened him.

Some might call him insane for his beliefs. That quirks were a sickness, infecting the populace with Hero and Villain Syndrome. But he knew the truth that they were all just blind to, that’s why they needed him to be their guide and show them the way to purity.

Perhaps that’s why he found you, you were meant to be his reward for all the good he was doing. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s sure that it’s a day he won’t ever forget. Not ever, he thinks, gazing down at your form spread out over the sheets in sheer, manic glee as he recalls the all too vivid day…

—————

In hindsight, pulling you out of the way of that moving vehicle could be seen as the starting point to the chain reaction that sent him down this long and winding road of obsession. Not that he would change it for anything in the world.

He had merely acted without much thought when he reached out his white gloved hand to pull you out of the way, touching you as little as possible. He simply wasn’t in the mood to get himself soiled with your blood that would go flying everywhere should you get hit. Touching your shirt seemed like a small price to pay if it meant avoiding being covered in bodily fluids.

You turned around, your (e/c) blown wide in shock and blinking up at him stupidly. Your features were obviously that of foreign descent, not that cared enough to guess what country you came from. It was far too beneath him.

“Umm… thank you. That definitely would have been horribly messy.” You said, your Japanese was relatively decent, if a bit too formal.

He glared, noting with quiet contempt that you didn’t seem affected by it, probably because you were too stupid to know when to be afraid. “The only reason I did it was because I’d rather not get covered in blood and gore. If I could have avoided it, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

You seemed more amused than perturbed by his attitude, and he was beginning to wonder if you were very brave or just hopelessly stupid. “Well thank you for the assistance nonetheless, even more so considering what a hassle it was for you.”

If there were just a few less people out and about he might have decided to use his blasted quirk on you, consequences and mess be damned. Instead he turned on his heel. “Perhaps next time, whatever filthy quirk you have will be able to save you.” He fully intended to walk away and never think about this incident again, however, what you said next was more than intriguing enough to make him stop and give you a second glance.

“That would make sense, if I actually had a quirk. I’ll be sure to ask for one in my next life.”

He turned around to look at you, you were already walking away, but it looked like you were lost, you kept looking at your phone and then back to the street signs and buildings as if you were trying to translate the writing.

“You were born quirkless?” He’d never actually met someone who was genuinely born quirkless, only those that had lost their quirks due to his drug. He could only imagine what it must be like to feel so clean and pure.

You only gave him a brief glance as you continued to scrutinize your surroundings, more than likely surprised that he was still standing there, let alone talking to you. “Yup. No special power for me, unless you count my extraordinary ability to walk a straight line in platform heels while drunk a quirk that is.” You chuckled, the sound not nearly as annoying as he thought it might be.

“Then you’re one of the lucky ones.”

It seems that was the comment that got him your full attention, your head lifting up to stare wide eyed at him. “Lucky? That’s certainly not the word most people would use when describing a quirkless individual. Do you have something against them by chance? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but now you’ve got my curiosity peaked.”

Kai thought about it, why he was still here, why he was still talking to you, and the only answer he could come up with was that he was interested to see what your reaction would be to learning his views. Would you agree? Look at him like he was insane? He wanted to know, so he figured there couldn’t be any harm in enlightening you.

“Have you ever heard the theory that quirks were caused by a strain of virus carried by rats?” You gave a quick shake of your head, (h/c) strands bouncing around your face as he continued. “Quirks are a sickness, they ravage humanity with Hero and Villain syndromes and people seem content to go along with it. It sickens me that the world has fallen so low as to rely on abilities and deformities that we were never meant to have in the first place. It’s unnatural and disgusting.”

He was expecting some kind of reaction from you, he didn’t think you’d jump right into agreeing with him, that would have been too perfect. His best guess was that you were going to think he was crazy, most outside of the Shie Hassaikai thought he was, why should one quirkless girl be any different. The reply you gave him definitely didn’t fit into either of those categories.

“That’s certainly an interesting way of looking at it, from an evolutionary standpoint at least. I’ll admit that when looking back on human history and development, quirks are definitely not what I would have expected human evolution to progress towards. So perhaps your rat theory does have some merit. Almost like a second coming of The Black Death or something.” You said, having moved closer to the wall of a building while the two of you spoke.

“You don’t think I’m crazy for thinking this? Most people would have stopped listening after I used disease and quirk in the same sentence.”

“No.” You chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with having an opinion that differs from the norm, sometimes it’s what we need to progress and move forward. Culture and society are constantly changing and adapting to new things as time goes on, but we wouldn’t be able to do that if it wasn’t for someone else stepping forward and saying that something needs to be done or fixed if we are to ever move on from the ways of the past. Your views may be a bit extreme, but definitely not crazy. After all, no one ever said passion was a bad thing.”

You couldn’t have possibly known how pleased he was by your words as you looked up into his eyes, eyes that even his underlings flinched at when attempting to hold his gaze for too long, but you just stared right at him, unflinching with a small smile tugging at your lips. It set his pulse racing pleasantly, and if he didn’t already know that he was in top physical health, he might have thought something was wrong with him.

“You looked as if you were lost, perhaps I can help you find your way.” He honestly felt like taking apart his own brain when the words left his mask covered mouth, but it was too late now, you were already agreeing.

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be amazing! I can speak Japanese fairly well, but reading it is another story entirely.” You said pulling out your phone to show him an address for a local hotel, he took note of how soft and clean your hands looked, not a speck of filth to be seen. “I’m here on a study trip with a group of classmates and I went wandering off to look around, ended up getting lost along the way and was too embarrassed to ask for directions.”

“It’s three blocks away, follow me.” He ordered, turning on his heel. He didn’t bother to see if you were tagging along behind him or not, he knew you would obey.

The walk was kept silent and he was pleased that you didn’t seem to want to fill the time with pointless chatter as most people would have, but a small part of him was a bit disappointed as well, he wouldn’t have minded hearing you speak more of those intellectual views of yours. He wondered what else you might have to say about his views on the world. He might have even asked if the two of you had not just reached your destination.

There was someone rushing over, a blonde girl with blue scales around her yellow eyes was marching over to you. “Where in the Nine Circles of Hell did you run off too?! We’ve been worried sick! Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” She said, pulling you into a tight hug.

He wanted to obliterate the annoyance as soon as she touched you. It was blasphemous that this piece of garbage would even think to touch someone as clean as you with their dirty hands. He was even more annoyed that you didn’t seem bothered by this, just reached up to pat her filthy head.

“Sorry Nell, I went for a walk and got a little turned around. But this guy helped me out!” You turned around, to say thank you one last time and maybe get his name, but he was already gone.

Nell just gave you a look, like you had lost your marbles. “What guy (Y/N)? Don’t tell me your seeing ghosts again like you did in elementary school. Was this one at least hot?” She jeered with a barking laugh, bumping her shoulder against yours and motioning for you to follow her towards the hotel entrance.

“That was one time! And you know it was only because Mike was hiding in the attic of that old house to purposely try and scare us. What ten year old wouldn’t have been terrified.”

“Right… sure that’s all it was.” She teased.

“I swear to God, he was right there not even two seconds ago!” You were amazed he managed to slip away in so short a time span. “But he did seem pretty antisocial so he probably didn’t want to hang around longer than necessary. Still though,” You look back over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot that green jacket. “kind of cliche to just up and leave like that without a word.”

“You didn’t answer my question though, was your mystery man easy on the eyes?”

You did have to smile a bit at that. “He did seem pretty handsome from what I could see of him. He was wearing a black dust mask over his mouth and nose, so all I could see of him were his gold eyes. It’s a shame I didn’t get to find out his name, he was interesting to talk too.” You sighed. “But oh well, it would be a miracle if I ever ran into him again in a city this big.”

From up on the roof of another building, Kai watched and listened, a plan already forming in his head. He had to agree with you, it was a shame you couldn’t have spoken more. He found himself pleased with the sound of your voice and wondered what his name would sound like rolling off your tongue, the thought had him shuddering in pleasure. He was not one to question himself on anything, if he wanted something or had a goal, he would find a way to accomplish it. And he most definitely wanted to interact with you again.

“I’ll come find you again soon (Y/N), then we will both get what we want.”

This was my first time writing for Overhaul, so please let me know if you thought I did his character justice! Thanks and please enjoy!

And a special thanks to @talpup for helping me brainstorm this and all my other stories!

[mostlydeadlanguages]

The Triumphs of Deborah and Jael (Judges 4 & 5)

Image: "Jael & Sisera," by Conterfeyter

I love these two chapters of the Bible.

The first chapter is a straightforward story about how two women help Israel triumph over their oppressors: Deborah, a prophetess and judge, and Jael, a courageous nomadic woman.  It's a sorely needed counterpoint to the treatment of women elsewhere in the book of Judges — and a reminder that even in the ancient world, women could be snarky badasses.

The second chapter is a gorgeous and very difficult poem which roughly retells the same events.  There's still some debate over which chapter was written first, but most scholars view this chapter (the “Song of Deborah”) as a very ancient text, the predecessor of the prose version.  If I were to footnote every grammatical difficulty or obscure vocabulary in this chapter, I would be writing until next year; I've merely highlighted a few of the most challenging cruxes.  Despite its difficulties, though, it's a raw, powerful epic that intertwines cosmic theophany, military adventure, and personal intimacy.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Judges 4

Once again, the Israelites acted wickedly in YHWH's sight. (Ehud had died.)  So YHWH delivered them up to Jabin, the king of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor.  The commander of his troops was Sisera, who lived in Forest-of-the-Gentiles.  Then the Israelites cried out to YHWH, because he had nine hundred iron chariots, and he had been brutally oppressing the Israelites for twenty years.

Now, Deborah was a female prophetess, a "woman of torches" [1]; she was judging Israel at that time.  She would sit beneath the Palm of Deborah — between Ramah and Bethel, in the hills of Ephraim — and the Israelites went up to her for judgment.

She summoned Barak ben Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali, and she said to him, "Hasn't YHWH, the God of Israel, given a command?  Go and muster at Mount Tabor, and take ten thousand men with you from Naphtali and Zebulun.  Then, at the river Kishon, I will muster for you Sisera, commander of Jabin's troops, with his chariotry and his horde — and I will give him into your hand."

Barak said to her, "If you go with me, then I'll go.  But if you don't go with me, I won't go."

So she said, "I will most certainly go with you!  Nevertheless, there will be no honor for you on the path you are traveling — for YHWH will deliver up Sisera by the hand of a woman."  Then Deborah got up and went with Barak to Kedesh.  Barak summoned Zebulun and Naphtali to Kedesh, so that ten thousand men marched at his heels.  And Deborah went up with him.

Meanwhile, Heber the Smith had split off from the Smiths — the descendants of Hobab, the father-in-law of Moses — and pitched his tent at Oak-in-Zaanannim, which is at Kedesh.  They told Sisera that Barak ben Abinoam had gone up to Mount Tabor, so Sisera summoned all his chariotry, nine hundred iron chariots, along with all the people with him, from Forest-of-the-Gentiles to the river Kishon.

Then Deborah said to Barak, "Get up!  This is the day when YHWH will surely give Sisera into your hand.  Doesn't YHWH himself go out before you?"

Barak went down Mount Tabor, with ten thousand men following him.  And YHWH threw Sisera and all his chariotry and all his horde into chaos before the blade of Barak.  Sisera got off his chariot and fled on foot, while Barak chased after the chariotry and the horde as far as Forest-of-the-Gentiles.  The entire horde of Sisera fell before the sword; not one remained.

Meanwhile, Sisera fled on foot to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Smith — for there was peace between Jabin, the king of Hazor, and the kin of Heber the Smith.  Jael came out to greet Sisera, and she told him, "Tarry, my lord; tarry with me, and don't be afraid."  So he tarried with her and entered the tent, and she hid him under a covering.

He said to her, "Please, give me a little water to drink, for I am thirsty."  So she opened a leather bottle of milk and gave him a drink, then hid him again.  "Stand at the tent's entrance," he told her, "and if someone comes and asks, 'Is there a man here?', say 'No.'"

But Jael, Heber's wife, took a tent peg and held a hammer in her hand.  She came to him  stealthily, and she drove the peg into his temple until it penetrated the ground, while he was unconscious.  He breathed his last and died.

Just then, Barak appeared, chasing Sisera.  Jael came out to greet him, and she told him, "Come — I will show you the man you seek."  So he came in to her — and Sisera was there, lying dead, with the peg in his temple.

Thus God humiliated Jabin, king of Canaan, on that day, in front of the Israelites.  Then the hand of the Israelites pushed harder and harder against Jabin, king of Canaan, until they exterminated Jabin, king of Canaan.

                                                            Judges 5

Deborah sang this with Barak ben Abinoam on that day: When caliphs are in chaos [2] in Israel,         when the people volunteer —         bless YHWH! Listen, you kings!         Hear, you dignitaries! I myself, to YHWH —         I myself, I will sing —         I will belt out to YHWH, God of Israel. YHWH, when you came forth from Seir,         when you strode from the land of Edom, Earth quaked —         yes, and Heaven sprinkled,         yes, and clouds sprinkled water. Mountains rippled before YHWH, the One of Sinai,         before YHWH, God of Israel. In the days of Shamgar ben Anat,         in the days of Jael, routes vanished,         and travelers on pathways         traveled circuitous routes. Heroism vanished, [3]         in Israel it vanished,         until you arose, Deborah,         until you arose, a mother in Israel. God chose a new people — [4]         then war was at the gates! Could a shield be seen, or a spear,         among forty thousand in Israel? My heart belongs to Israel's officers,         the volunteers of the people.         Bless YHWH! You riders of tawny donkeys,         you who sit on tapestries,         and you who walk the road:         proclaim it! Louder than pebbles between the water-currents, [5]         there they recount YHWH's loving-loyalties,         the loving-loyalties of his heroism in Israel. Then the people of YHWH came down to the gates. "Awake, awake, O Deborah!         Awake, awake, declare a song! Get up, Barak, and capture your captives,         you son of Abinoam." Then the remnant of the nobles came down,         the people of YHWH came down to me with the warriors. From Ephraim were those with roots in Amalek,         after you, Benjamin, with your peoples. From Machir, the officers came down,         and from Zebulun, those who wield generals' rods. The commanders of Issachar were with Deborah;         Issachar was true to Barak.         In the valley, they chased after his strides. In the clan of Reuben were great rations of heart.         Why did you sit down with your saddlebags         to listen to the piping of the flocks?         In the clan of Reuben were great rationales of heart. [6] Gilead stayed across the Jordan,         and Dan — why did he sojourn with the ships? Asher sat on the seashore,         staying at his harbors. Zebulun: a people that defied death,         and Naphtali, upon the heights of the land. The kings came; they warred.         Then the kings of Canaan warred at Taanach, by the waters of Megiddo.         They took no plunder of silver. From Heaven, the stars warred;         from their courses, they warred against Sisera. The river Kishon washed them away;         the primordial river, the river Kishon.         Tread firmly, my soul! Then the horse hooves hammered         with the galloping, galloping of his stallions. "Curse Meroz," said YHWH's messenger;         "Curse bitterly its inhabitants. For they did not come to help YHWH,         to help YHWH with the warriors." Most blessed of women be Jael,         wife of Heber the Smith —         of women in tents, most blessed. "Water," he asked; milk, she gave.         In a noble bowl, she brought him cream. She reached her hand for the peg,         her right hand for the worker's mallet; she hammered Sisera, she crushed his head,         she smashed and stabbed his temple. Between her legs, he sank, he fell, he lay;         between her legs, he sank, he fell.         Where he sank, there he fell — ruined. Through the window, she gazed down;         Sisera's mother lamented through the lattice. "Why is his chariot delayed in coming?         Why is the clatter of his war-chariots tardy?" The wisest of her noblewomen responds;         even she can answer the words herself. "Aren't they retrieving and dividing the spoils?         One cunt — two cunts! — for every man; [7] dyed cloth as spoil for Sisera,         dyed embroidered cloth as spoil,         two dyed embroidered clothes on every neck as spoil." Thus may all your enemies perish, YHWH!         But your loved ones are like the rising of the sun in its strength. Then the land was quiet for forty years.

[1] "Woman of torches" — or "woman of Lappidoth," or "wife of Lappidoth."  Since "lappidoth" (torches) is neither a personal nor a place name elsewhere, I choose to translate it here as a metaphorical epithet.

[2] "When caliphs are in chaos" — this line is most often translated as "when locks grow long"; it relies on some very obscure vocabulary.  I read it as a wordplay that connects two homophones: the noun for a powerful leader, and the verb for running amuck.

[3] "Heroism vanished" — This whole verse is very difficult and complicated by the fact that the word I translate as "vanished" is a near auto-antonym (it can mean either "to cease" or "to grow fat"), and it's not clear whether the same meaning is intended throughout.  The word I translate as "heroism" is sometimes translated as "peasantry."

[4] "God chose new people" — This is the straightforward translation of this line, but because of its theological difficulty (how could God turn against Israel?), it usually gets reversed as "[people] chose new gods."  As I understand it, "new people" means "a new set of enemies for Israel."

[5] "Louder than pebbles between the water-currents" — Another set of very obscure vocabulary.  I imagine this image as the roaring of water splashing over pebbles.

[6] "In the clan of Reuben were great rations of heart / great rationales of heart."  This is either a wordplay or a scribal error; the lines are identical except for two similar words.  Some translators emend the first line, so that the two lines are an exact repetition, decrying Reuben's equivocation.  I view it as a pun: Reuben supposedly has a big portion of courage, but in the end, he dilly-dallied.

[7] "One cunt — two cunts" — This Hebrew word literally means "womb," but here it clearly refers to female war-captives for sexual slavery.  "Cunt" is the most common English word that conveys both meanings, although it is more crude than the Hebrew word would have seemed.

[diveronaevents]

DATE: May 15th

TIME: 8 PM

LOCATION: Throughout Verona

It was Viola’s screams that ushered in the new weeks, drifting along the wispy spring breeze and ringing in the ears of anyone who dared to mull over her death for too long. And it was Viola’s blood that cleansed the ever-soiled streets; pushing at the ankles of the broken, the damned and the indifferent as it rolled through the city in great phantom waves, huddling in-between the cobblestones and drying along fissured windowsills and sturdy pillars alike.

It was said that her ghost now haunted Verona. That it tackled burdened Montagues as they passed through the dreary halls of their library, slinking out from between the looming bookshelves and boring its coal-black eyes into them until they fell to their knees and wept in confession of their sins. Even civilians weren’t left unclaimed by the wrath of Viola’s memory, as they, too, were said to fall prey to it at the barest thought of Capulet retribution and all the lifeblood that was spilled in its name.

Viola’s death took up all the room that she could never fill when alive -- and Verona was choking beneath the weight of it.

One wheezing gasp after another, one desperate crawl after another, Verona drudged ahead like it always did. Yet while some couldn’t help but wonder about its inevitable collapse, others followed at its dragging heel with steady gazes and marching steps -- though it remained to be seen whether they did so because they truly wanted to, or because they had no other choice.

Among that ambitious clan of individuals was none other than Damiano Montague, who had continued to seek the solitude of his office and wrangle his plans for the future, even with all the losses that were now looming over him, rising higher and piling thicker with each and every victory that he stole.

MAY 12TH

THE CAPITAL LIBRARY, 3 PM

He sat at his desk, knotted fingers pressed against his mouth, features locked in an expression of stoic calculation. Before him was his right hand, his general, and most notably, his son. He still wasn’t sure of the title he ought to brand him with. Adversary? Kryptonite? Family?

Only one thing was certain; he had most definitely outgrown the title of heir.

It was glaringly apparent to Damiano as he stole a glance at his son, who occupied the seat directly before him, arm poised along the edge of the desk as his index tapped away in a steady, absently patient rhythm. His gaze was trained on the empty chair across from him, distant and glazed. He seemed every bit the thoughtful leader that he had always envisioned him to be.

The only difference was that he was sitting in the wrong seat.

Yet has he truly earned the throne for himself? Was he truly ready?

Damiano frowned, looking away and slowly lowering his intertwined hands until they settled before him.

ROMEO’s eyes instantly cleared, trailing up to settle on him attentively.

He shuffled around in his seat with a minute motion, yet for all his composure, the mild gesture was enough to betray his nervousness, and Damiano didn’t conceal his recognition of it; meeting ROMEO’s gaze for one rigid moment before his attention drifted away to the other occupants of the room.

GERTRUDE stood in the middle of the room, a short space beyond ROMEO, posture straight and hands clasped in front of her. Damiano eyed the bandaged stump of her ring finger for a long, heavy moment. She didn’t move, didn’t twitch or waver. She remained as steady as ever under his scrutiny, and although he gave no indication of it, it was reassuring for him to witness. Perhaps she did, indeed, retain some of the honor that her tainted act had forever defiled in his eyes. Only time and spilled blood would tell.

Beyond their cluster, near the small office window, was ANTONY, who leaned against the wall and peered down into the streets through pallid coils of cigarette smoke. He glanced at Damiano, but seemed in no hurry to come to attention; taking a moment to inhale one final gulp before discarding the cigarette with a lazy flick of his finger and one final glance at the city below -- as arrogant and aloof as ever. In just a moment, he would know his place. Damiano aimed to make the message glaringly clear with the sharp look he threw ANTONY’s way, but the man merely raised a placating palm while the other gripped the window and rolled it down.

It closed with a decisive, resounding clang.

Damiano took a deep breath that utterly failed to douse his flaring temper, pressing his palms flat against his desk for a moment before he abruptly began to drum his fingers against the tabletop. It seemed to coax ROMEO’s anxiety further to the surface; as he began to gnaw on his lip while tracing the motions of Damiano’s hands. Good.

If only the other two could be half as responsive to him, Damiano couldn’t help but irritably think.

“I have a question for you all: what does loyalty mean to you?”

His fingers stilled. His gaze skirted across all three of them with steady appraisal.

He received no answer.

“It’s a serious question,” He beseeched. “I genuinely want to know what loyalty means to each one of you.”

He took a breath, licked his lips, and impulsively decided that in truth, he didn’t want to fucking know.

“See, for me, loyalty is best translated through honesty. And what honesty means is being forthcoming. Direct. Willing to share what you otherwise would not for the sake of the common goal that I should think we’re all working towards.”

ROMEO’s eyes briefly fluttered closed, face turned away with what Damiano was certain was no small amount of exasperation. He would call it foresight if he didn’t know that it actually came down to the simple fact that his son was simply too used to being reprimanded. Yet did he ever take the time to wonder why the blame never ceased before he resorted to his usual self-victimization? Did he ever learn anything from it? No. Even with all the progress he had made, he still managed to land himself in the line of fire. So here they were, and he only had himself to blame.

“It doesn’t mean letting secrets fester for months on end, and in turn leaving everyone around you reeling from the consequences --“ He emphasized, eyes on GERTRUDE. “before finally mustering the courage to come forward, and right when it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

ROMEO didn’t turn to look at GERTRUDE, perhaps to save her the embarrassment. Yet ANTONY made no move to conceal the inquisitive glance he threw her way, though he retracted his attention quickly enough.

The knuckles of her clasped hands blanched, but that was the only indication that she had any particular reaction to his words.

It was enough.

“It doesn’t mean landing yourself in covert encounters with the enemy and sharing nothing on the matter, even though it leaves you incapacitated for months on end and thus an utter liability to the organization,” He looked upon ANTONY, tipping his chin in the direction of his still-healing hands.”While also bearing the risk of dragging the rest of the Montagues into whatever cycle of vendetta you had locked yourself into.”

It was GERTRUDE’s turn to cast a curious glance at ANTONY, who remained slouched against the window. Yet his nonchalant posture was decisively betrayed by the unmistakable frost that had now chilled his expression.

“And finally, it doesn’t mean orchestrating a wholesale operation of your own volition, not to mention after gaining intel that you had absolutely no right to keep to yourself, when it is not your place to do so.” He gritted, voice raised with his spiking frustration as he bore his gaze down on ROMEO, still scathed by the series of events that was ultimately what had paved the way for Viola’s untimely death.

He leaned forward across his desk, voice dropping into a harsh murmur. “Arrogance will get you far, boy, but never far enough while your name remains tied to mine.”

ROMEO’s jaw clenched as he blinked incessantly, undoubtedly in an attempt to keep himself from flinching.

Damiano watched his composure crumble, and then slowly, slowly, leaned back in his chair, once again turning to look between all three of them.

“So… do we see a pattern here? Or has honesty eluded you for so long now that you can’t even tell that you’re lacking in it?”

The words settled with a whiff of heat across all those who were present, and the silence in their wake was blistering.

Damiano began to drum his fingers once again, watching them as he awaited a response.

Again, he received nothing.

Curious. They were always so eager to hiss and holler and let their voices be heard, yet now they were mute all of a sudden. All because he faced them with their faults, even though they have all collectively done nothing but face him with his own.

He scoffed, lips tilting in a derisive smile. “It’s alright. What’s done is done, and each one of you has already paid their own price for their secrecy.” He let the declaration settle for a moment, then he spread his palms. “Now we can turn over a new page. And I’m willing to set the example that we all ought to follow, moving forward.”

Reaching into his drawer, he took out several files that he had compiled on his own, without the knowledge of any of the three. He put the files before him, but gave no indication that anyone was allowed to glimpse the contents just yet. “I think we’re all aware that the Capulets have gone too far at this point. Although Viola’s death is the straw that broke the camel’s back, I believe that this was a long time coming. War is what the Capulets have demanded, and war is what they shall receive.”

He nodded towards the files. “I’ve been thinking it over since the anniversary; how we can retaliate, what moves we can afford to make with the resources that we have. And over the past few days, I outlined the plan that I have in mind.” He opened the largest file, which showcased images of various Capulet territories alongside sheets of outlined information regarding them. “A series of coordinated attacks on significant Capulet territories which, if executed efficiently, will end with us taking over their precious Cathedral.”

He indicated a photo of the building. ROMEO frowned at it, licking his lips in hesitation before arguing, “But the Cathedral is practically falling apart after the explosion. What use would it have?”

With a click of his tongue, Damiano shook his head. “In this case, it’s not about the use, boy, it’s about the message. Those righteous fools take great pride in having a house of God in their grasp. They’ll be left stranded without it. We keep it, and it’ll be a blow that they will take ages to recover from.” He sought ROMEO’s gaze, certain that his following words would convince him. “If Cosimo thinks that what he did with Viola was a display, he has a grand fucking lesson to learn.”

ROMEO avoided Damiano’s eyes, silent as he read over the file.

“Like I said, I aim to set an example with this, so you’re all free to look over the strategies I’ve outlined. Offer suggestions, make adjustments, pick your teams -- get involved, and work to make this a success.”

With a firm motion of his hand, he closed the file. “It happens in three days.”

-

The door would have slammed behind ROMEO as he stormed out, had it not been for the swift response of GERTRUDE’s hand as she walked out behind him. She let the door hover open behind her for ANTONY to pass through as she trailed after a seething ROMEO, who came to a stop beside her with his fists clenched at his sides and his head shaking in fervent rejection.

“I have to do something about this.” He insisted. “Going after the Capulet HQ is no walk in the park. He’s going to be met with heavy resistance, and many of our people will die for nothing. Even if he does seize the Cathedral, it’s useless. And who knows how the Capulets might retaliate, or if we’ll even have the power to push them back by the time it’s over. They’ve already taken territory back from us once before.”

GERTRUDE was silent, though she seemed to be in agreement with ROMEO. ANTONY merely lingered in the background, not partaking in the discussion but carefully following it.

“I know I have no way of stopping him, but if I can somehow make these attacks count, then that’s what I have to do.”

He searched GERTRUDE’s eyes, then turned to briefly gauge ANTONY’s reaction.

“It can’t all be for nothing.”

Then he turned around, and quickly began marching towards his own office.

-

MAY 15TH

MEASURE BY MEASURE, 8 PM

The trenches of Measure by Measure sprawled ahead of the invading Montague battalion; an assembly of twelve soldiers with CELIA and ROSALIND at the forefront. Making their entry had been an easy feat, but it was known that the bulk of the establishment’s security lay in the catacombs; in the implicit knowledge that upon descent, one would have no choice but to dig their way out or be buried beneath another’s heel. As such, the nervous energy crackling along the humid air was palpable to all, though none seemed to waver before it. They knew their orders, they knew the mission that lay ahead -- and most importantly, they knew the risks.

Beneath the nervous air was a different sort of tension, however; one that spiked and pulled taut whenever ROSALIND’s gaze collided with CELIA’s, especially when she seemed to take note of the way her cousin was expressly marching closer to the comrades on her other side, enforcing distance that had divided both Aguilars for longer than either of them was willing to admit. It made for a stifling progression through enemy territory, one that had little to do with the constrained air or the cavernous space. Even the soldiers posed at the flanks seemed to take note of it; stealing perplexed glances at the renowned Montague duo as they walked at the head of their pack.

Yet although the ties that bound sometimes frayed, they could never truly be broken, and such was starkly proven by CELIA’s swift response as a wicked bullet strode directly towards her cousin, who was simmering in enough disdain that it seemed to completely drown out her focus. A push of CELIA’s palm into ROSALIND’s shoulder sent her sprawling out of the bullet’s path, and as she shouted at her cousin to take cover, she realized the risk that her selfless actions bore. Only it was too late, as she quickly found herself lying on her back with a gun pressed harshly into her throat. Atop her was CORDELIA, who hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of CELIA’s preoccupation with her cousin.

While the two grappled with one another, ROSALIND was instantly on her feet and working to come to her cousin’s aid, but HIPPOLYTA was quick to throw herself into her path. She was a renowned Capulet captain, known for her calculative disposition and efficient approach to combat. She encompassed everything that went against the aggressive, direct approach of ROSALIND’s training, and it caused the fight to sway in the Capulet’s favor. Though as ROSALIND took note of CELIA’s struggles against CORDELIA, she instantly abandoned defense in favor of offense, taking HIPPOLYTA off guard as she began to fuel more patience and tact into her assaults.

In the end, none of them could remain caught in a stalemate forever.

With a struggling HIPPOLYTA caught in her wavering chokehold, ROSALIND looked around her to find that most of their soldiers were either dead or caught in the Capulets’ grasp, and it took the mindless moment when she called out to the others to translate the bleak conclusion of their defeat for HIPPOLYTA to wrap an ankle around hers and tug her foot from beneath her, knocking her down and swiftly turning the tides of their fight.

Her warning was unnecessary, however, as it seemed that several of her comrades had come to the same conclusion. The first of which naturally being CELIA, whose attacks on CORDELIA had switched from offensive and lethal, to distant and defensive as she turned her focus to concocting a much-needed escape plan.

For a moment, all seemed to be lost -- until ROSALIND felt the blessed weight of a forgotten smoke grenade pressing painfully into the small of her back.

Digging her palm beneath her with great difficulty, she took it out and let it roll away into the middle of the raging battlefield.

Then she held her breath.

One second passed… then two… then the third…

The room was engulfed in smoke, and ROSALIND’s fist rose up to collide with HIPPOLYTA’s nose, dislodging her and giving her the leeway to run towards the exit after passing by her cousin and signaling to her with a quick pat on the shoulder. CELIA understood, rallying what was left of their comrades and leaning against them alongside ROSALIND as they made their ragged escape through the catacombs.

They came up for air with no concern for anything but the sheer relief that they had survived.

-

TWELFTH NIGHT MUSEUM, 8:30 PM

It was a calm evening in the Twelfth Night Museum, disturbed by nothing more than the whisper of footsteps as they stuttered before paintings and the hum of quiet conversations as visitors indulged in each other’s opinions and remarks. The echo of music drifted down from the upper floor, breezy and soothing, the paintings shimmered in the gentle light, and the sculptures looked upon it all with envying melancholy. 

All while the city outside simply lay in wait.

Then all the doors slammed shut. Alarms blared and warning lights flashed.

And a dozen Montagues slinked out of the shadows.

At the forefront were MALCOLM and HAMLET who worked in unison to enforce their operation of taking over the museum, MALCOLM issuing orders to their fellow soldiers, and HAMLET working on closing the area off from any Capulet reinforcements. Soon enough, the museum was locked up like a cell without a key, restricted only to the internal alarms that left nothing for wandering eyes to see beyond its walls.

HAMLET quickly found himself cornered by CORIOLANUS, who spread his palms and looked around in indication of the Montague soldiers that were faltering and falling all around them in the wake of Capulet retaliation, taunting HAMLET with the pitiful sight. It was an act that failed at first, but soon enough served its purpose, throwing them into an entanglement that was desperate and invigorated on HAMLET’s part, while riveting and purely amusing in his enemy’s eyes.

At the far corner of the room, MALCOLM was aiding a fellow Montague soldier before suddenly taking an abrupt, vengeance-fueled knife to his side. Wielding it was none other than LADY MACBETH, who still burned with spite for what he had done to her husband. For a long time, they fell into physical combat, exchanging forceful blows and unflinching strikes, until MALCOLM gained enough breadth to wield his gun, and then LADY MACBETH’s fate was sealed.

Though not quite, for she was quick to grab a civilian and use them as a shield to deter his bullets. It was HERMIONE, who fell into a scream of agony, shoulder torn by the burning metal of a bullet, before she could even grasp what was happening. Once she had served her purpose, she was quickly discarded by LADY MACBETH who went on to taunt MALCOLM with his act of injuring an innocent woman.

Though HERMIONE was discarded, she was not abandoned. Her screams had drawn the attention of a watchful TITANIA, and displeased as they were with LADY MACBETH’s cowardly actions, they were quick to run to HERMIONE’s bloodsoaked side, helping her up and guiding her to a remote corner where they tended to her wound as best as they could.

Across the battlefield, BIANCA was ordered to go upstairs to the Tempest and ensure that no Montagues had infiltrated it. As she ran, she collided with FLORIZEL, who had been making his exit out of the lounge. The two engaged one another in a conversation riddled with underlying motives and looming blades, gauging each other and their stances on the chaos that had erupted around them. Adept at such games as she was, BIANCA had managed to lure him close enough -- and then she ran her blade through his gut. Just because she could. She had orders to take down Montagues, after all, and he had the same rabid air about him. Could anyone truly blame her for acting on orders and instinct alike? And so she walked away along a pool of his blood, unbothered by the chilling footprints she stamped in her wake.

It was just as HAMLET began to turn the tide of his battle with CORIOLANUS that his earpiece crackled with disturbing news. The Measure by Measure takeover had been a failure; they were now meant to retreat and make their way to the next and most essential target in order to ensure the success of the operation. He had no room to argue or discuss, and so he quickly called out to his comrades. MALCOLM answered the call, abandoning his unfinished fight with LADY MACBETH and making his way towards as many soldiers as he could reach, supporting them however he can and ushering them forward. Once there were none left behind except for the fallen, HAMLET gave the order to have their override on the alarm system dismantled, then began to fight his way through the museum alongside what remained of his people.

They made their way towards the Cathedral, hungering for the victory they had just been denied.

-

THE CATHEDRAL, 9 PM

The broken visage of the Cathedral made for quite a mournful sight. A vision that tugged one’s brows into a grimace of sorrow and lured their gaze into helpless appraisal of beauty torn asunder -- an ill fate that the ancient city of Verona had been condemned to from the moment it birthed the divine Capulet and Montague entities.

Its lower levels lay pliant, spread open before gloating eyes as their shattered foundations wearily leaned into the support of construction beams and wooden pillars. An array of spears sprouting from the Capulets’ crucified heart, drawing grit in place of blood and piercing stone in place of flesh.

Further beyond, among the crumbling ruins of the dilapidated ribcage, lay a cluster of prone bodies. Casualties amidst crossfire. Innocents.

Construction workers and Capulets tasked with security, fallen in the name of the Montague march as though they had never stood a chance.

Indeed, they hadn’t.

The workers were merely unconscious, but the soldiers had been executed, in accordance with the ruthless code with which GONERIL had led a handful of Montague soldiers, shortly before joining ANTONY and MERCUTIO alongside the rest of the battalion once their way into the Cathedral was finally cleared.

Above them, Capulets went about their business as usual, hearts settled and guard lowered. All while VOLUMNIA seethed in her office.

As soon as they were informed of the series of Montague attacks that had been launched on their territories, she had immediately sprung into action, distributing teams and assigning tasks while simultaneously preparing to dive into the battle herself -- only to find herself stopped by Cosimo Capulet. He aimed to go and survey the battle grounds, and it was his wish that she remain in their headquarters and take leadership in his absence. VOLUMNIA had been against it, claiming that it would be a more efficient action if she were to guide their forces on the field while Cosimo led and supervised their efforts. In truth, she hadn’t trusted what Cosimo might do outside the sharp scope of her vision, the bitter memory of the night of the anniversary still curdling in her mind. Yet her attempts at persuasion had been in vain, as Cosimo had firmly decided against listening before finally taking his hurried leave.

She had been mulling over it ever since, mind running itself ragged with contemplation as she considered all the new dimensions that her recent disagreements with the Don opened for the future of the Capulets.

Then her thoughts came to a dreadful halt.

She noted how quiet it had gotten outside.

But then sound began to arrive in small bursts; minute shouts and distant calls that she struggled to translate as she made her way to the door.

It opened up to reveal the dastardly curve of MERCUTIO’s smile.

That was all VOLUMNIA could see before her sight was whisked away into a dizzying blur of sights and colors. MERCUTIO’s gun-wielding hand only lowered from her bleeding temple for a second before the other followed in its tracks, landing a bruising punch to the other side of VOLUMNIA’s face and earning her enemy further leeway into her office. VOLUMNIA stumbled to her desk, throwing herself on the other side of it to put distance between them and steal a moment to regain her footing. But MERCUTIO offered her no breathing room, launching themself across the desk and sending her crashing into her toppling seat of leadership. Yet although MERCUTIO had gained the upper hand, VOLUMNIA was intent on stripping them of it, having learned quite a bit about their fighting style from their recent encounter with one another.

A short distance away, ANTONY and GONERIL were making their way to the other offices of Capulet leadership, yet their progress was soon interrupted by DIANA, who had clearly been on her way to make an urgent exit. ANTONY turned the corner and was instantly spotted by her, but luckily, GONERIL had been lagging behind and so she was able to lean back into the shadowed wall and mask her presence. ANTONY aided her, drawing DIANA’s attention and giving no indication that he was accompanied. It gave GONERIL room to slink away and look for another route towards their intended destination, while ANTONY continued to indulge in rigged conversation with the enemy.

He approached DIANA slowly, arms raised placatingly in a deceptive display of his bandaged hands, taking advantage of what he knew of the enemy and projecting the twisted image of a man too aware of his own weakness, a man unwilling to do what was easy and spill blood when he could instead coax the enemy towards surrender. DIANA indulged him, willing to bite into the bait and guarding against it all at the same time. She slowly closed the distance between them, with a blade in hand, tucked into her side and concealed within the gentle, overflowing ruffles of her dress.

Meanwhile, GONERIL was making her way away from the vacant offices of the boss and heiress alike with her jaw clenched in frustration. She shoved the door to the consigliere’s office open with her foot, almost convinced that it, too, shall be empty. For a moment, that truly seemed to be the case, and GONERIL stood in the doorway and sloughed out a sharp sigh -- right before ROSALINE launched out from behind the door and wrapped a makeshift garrote around her throat. GONERIL managed to raise her hands just in time, hissing as they bled across her neck. They tousled around, crashing into cabinets and colliding with walls, and so ROSALINE, still weakened by her torture at the Montagues’ hands, was quick to lose her strength and loosen her hold. GONERIL threw her off with a harsh kick, whirling around and faltering upon recognizing the woman from her past.

Further across the expanse of the headquarters, there were no clear omens as to whom the battle was swinging in favor of. Capulets hissed, Montagues roared, and the Cathedral was then awash with gold simmering and boiling amidst silver.

Then the Montague reinforcements arrived from the abandoned battle at the Twelfth Night Museum, filtering into the Cathedral like a winding contagion and quickly overwhelming the struggling ranks of Capulets.

Soldiers drifted around, coming first across VOLUMNIA at the mercy of MERCUTIO’s blade.

Then ANTONY as he stood with a dangerously scant space between him and DIANA, leaning close as if they were sharing a secret, though none could see the way ANTONY was eyeing her blade or the way DIANA clenched her fingers around the impulse of brandishing it. The soldiers approached, and ANTONY glanced at them before looking back at DIANA and slowly reaching for her blade. He twirled it in a scar-ridden hand as he led them away, DIANA caught between them in enforced surrender.

Finally, the soldiers came upon a victorious GONERIL, though there was no satisfaction to be gauged from her expression, especially as she was forced to further subdue ROSALINE, who swiped and screamed at the encroaching Montagues like a cornered beast. Even as she lost consciousness due to GONERIL’s decisive strike, she never stopped fighting back.

Upon entry, Damiano Montague took in the chaos with a mild smile. It was his first genuine one in months.

Broken as it was, the heart of the Capulets was now his. A token of victory unlike any other.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his son would bring back in turn.

-

PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE CAFE, 9:10 PM

It was quite a deceiving trophy that he aimed to bring back, ROMEO couldn’t help but think, eyes taking in the humble, welcoming visage of the cafe as his team slowly approached it. While it would seem like an odd, almost pitiful choice for a takeover target, especially when compared to the jewel that his father was seeking, he saw its value far beyond its image. Although the establishment was simple, and horribly understated in comparison to the other powerful territories that the Capulets controlled, ROMEO understood the intent behind it well enough that he could see the power it held where his father could not. A special brand of power that could only be found in kindness, which was found exclusively in Phoenix and the Turtle perhaps more than any other Capulet territory.

Those who slept on empty stomachs grew to forget the taste of hunger upon finding this place, and it was something that had endeared the Veronesi to the Capulets in ways that the Montagues have failed to contend with for years on end.

His father had spoken on sending a message, and opted to send it through theft of the Capulets’ heart. 

But ROMEO was about to steal something far more precious, far more meaningful: the long-cultivated love of the people.

And he had no intention of being kind about it. They certainly hadn’t bothered to afford Viola that kind of respect.

It was for that reason that his expression remained stoic as stone as he heard the panicked shouts and terrified cries of innocent patrons as they coughed and choked and fell to their knees in the wake of the tear gas bombs that his team had thrown in through the windows. By the time it cleared and it was safe for the small Montague team to venture inside, the territory was all but theirs for the taking.

However, Damiano’s attacks had bore the disadvantage of announcing their plan to the entirety of the city, and because of that, Cosimo had been quick to send out teams to every single territory to guard against any remaining Montague attacks. It was for that reason that the Montagues’ victory was short-lived, as a Capulet squad was quick to crash into the cafe and bring their progress to a halt.

The first among them was KATHERINE, who seemed intent on going after GERTRUDE from the moment she spotted her. GERTRUDE deterred her attacks, trying and failing ceaselessly to convince her to swallow her pride and stand down. Yet her words fell on deaf ears, as KATHERINE continued on with her relentless attacks. As the fight progressed and GERTRUDE slowly ceased to hold back, however, KATHERINE opted for a different approach, taking advantage of the pallid remnants of smoke that still clung to the air to elude the enemy and dance in circles around her until she found her opening. Yet there was a great prince to be paid in the wake of her conniving strategy.

While KATHERINE crouched and slinked around under the veil of smoke, GERTRUDE did her best to trace her movements with her gun, and when she was certain that she had spotted her, she didn’t hesitate. The bullet whizzed through the murky air, but in place of the harsh, sharp groan that GERTRUDE expected, came a gentle, resounding scream -- the bloodcurdling sound of someone who has yet to learn of true pain. 

It was HERO, who had gone on to expect that the only hardship she would endure on this night was the possibility of getting lost on her way home, and yet here she was, in tears and tremors as she scrambled to halt the ceaseless blood-flow. It was just her luck that the righteous, kind-hearted TROILUS, who happened to have also elected to dine here, lingered close enough to come to her aid. He scrambled away from the upturned table that he had been hiding behind and made his way towards HERO once GERTRUDE and KATHERINE were out of sight, calming her down and helping her with the injury before moving on to guide her towards escape, lips coiled in disdain for the mobs that only ran deeper with each passing day.

Nearby, TYBALT was launching himself at SEBASTIAN, who had taken note of the situation involving HERO and lost his focus in the wake of oncoming dread as he realized just how many innocents were getting caught in the crossfire of this battle -- the one they had been the ones to initiate. The space was too constrained for use of arms, and so the two took to physically fighting against one another, SEBASTIAN solemn and cautious, while TYBALT snarled and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Though how far he pushed just before SEBASTIAN broke, one could only wonder.

It was OPHELIA and MIRANDA who then came into conflict, hissing and spitting at one another while war raged all around them. OPHELIA and CLEOPATRA had stuck to each other’s side, but they had gotten separated amidst the chaos, and OPHELIA feared for her dear friend and for herself in equal parts, knowing they were much stronger when banded together than when apart. It fueled her attacks against MIRANDA, the desperation to find her friend and make sure she was safe -- a goal that she and her enemy both shared, as MIRANDA, too, was pushed by her boundless passion to stand up for her friends and famiglia alike. But the two never lowered their weapons, and so they never found out just how much they actually had in common.

It was every bit the clash of beast against prey as BEATRICE and REGAN threw themselves against one another, though the modest, brimming space of the cafe did not allow for much freedom of movement. At one point, BEATRICE keenly used it to her advantage, running out into the streets in the hope that her speed would allow her to get the enemy off her trail. Yet REGAN was not the type of predator who was deterred by a chase, and so they followed after BEATRICE with eager hunger, keeping up with her with detached ease.

They caught her quickly, throwing her to the ground and locking her in with their body before antagonizing her with the gleaming weapon they held aloft. The sound of them in the otherwise quiet street drew ARIEL’s attention as they passed by, and at first, they hesitated to act upon taking note of the chaos that had overtaken the cafe. Yet upon recognizing BEATRICE, they decided to help her, distracting REGAN long enough for BEATRICE to escape their grasp. She didn’t run, however. Instead, she stayed and worked together with ARIEL to escape REGAN’s prowl.

Later on, REGAN settled on the concrete, catching their breath and glaring daggers at the retreating silhouettes of their quarry. Yet as they made their way to stand and continue their chase, IMOGEN was abruptly at their side. They claimed to be offering REGAN their help, even though they barely glanced at their wounds, feigning ignorance towards their identity and allegiance alike in the hope of gaining information on the battle that was erupting only a few feet away. IMOGEN had had far too many missed chances as of late, and it was a mistake that they had no intention of repeating.

Back inside the cafe, in a remote corner that was still anything but peaceful, CLEOPATRA faced off against EDGAR, who took a stance of grim determination, reminded of an achingly similar stalemate that he had been locked into with another Montague not too long ago. Though unlike them, CLEOPATRA was calm and unrelenting instead of desperate and eager for self-sacrifice. She clearly had no qualms about resorting to necessary violence, and still she didn’t reach for her weapon. Instead, she negotiated, attempting to convince EDGAR of the inevitable Montague victory and draw him towards peaceful surrender. It was only because of the surprising semblance of honor that she afforded him that EDGAR stilled and listened.

They never had a chance to see if CLEOPATRA could truly convince him.

Soon enough, ROMEO sealed the fate of the battle.

He gave swift, efficient orders, distributing soldiers evenly and tasking them with goals that worked to ensure that the cafe was locked tightly within their grasp. Capulets were subdued and held at gun-point, or defeated and cast outside as fodder for the streets. The Montague HQ was contacted and informed of their team’s success. More soldiers were dispatched to ensure the security of the location and fend off any Capulet retaliation.

ROMEO took in the blessed vision of order, exacted by his hand and his hand alone, and it felt like he was able to draw breath for the first time since day arose.

The taste of victory was not quite as sweet as he imagined, and still he couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

He wondered how it tasted to his father, if his addiction to it was the reason why they had wound up where they were.

Desperately, he hoped that it would grow bitter for him as time passed.

-

THE OUTSKIRTS OF VERONA, 11 PM

From a castle carved from shadow, LAMPRIUS watched as one battle after another overtook his beloved city. A grating chain of war that had been choking him in its coils for as long as he could remember.

It was tradition as ancient as the Witches who still lived eternal in his memory.

Its life would come to be cut short. Just as theirs had been.

The promise burned within him, and with its ashes scorching the tips of his fingers, he went on to write the following words.

Remember this for when the time comes. 

What is dead can never die. Not while there is life and legacy to be taken in its name.

Then he sent them scurrying along the wind, towards none other than Verona’s damned kings.

-

OVERVIEW: And so the war for the territories begins! Viola’s death has stirred the Montagues into irreversible action, and the stakes are only going to climb higher from here. As you’ve just witnessed, the Montagues are now officially in possession of THE CATHEDRAL and PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE. But fret not, Capulets! The next plot drop will explore their reaction to the blow they’ve been dealt and the action they’ll take in response, which is the reason for JULIET’s absence from this plot drop. Due to injuries too debilitating for them to take part in the action, PERDITA and ORSINO are also absent. A lot of exciting things are coming, so keep an eye out for them alongside changes in our locations page to reflect the recent events! Please date your threads from APRIL 27TH to MAY 30TH, with MAY 15TH as the day where the events of the plot drop occur. Let us know if you have any questions, and have fun!!