#v: the enemy of my enemy doesn't know osik but we'll train her up

[mandomirtagev]

Tall Tails and Tattling

@kadbejetiise​ | continued from this.

"I do not,” Mirta protested, indignant and amused in almost equal measure. “I’m not ba’buir -- and honestly, I don’t think he records nearly as much as you think he does, either. Not with his HUD, anyway.” Mirta rolled her eyes; her own buy'ce currently being propped oh-so-casually on the edge of the bar meant that Jaina could see the expression as easily as any of the other chakaare slumped around the room, but Mirta had no reason to hide her face here. As she’d reminded Jaina, she wasn’t Boba Fett -- her helmet was removable. She didn’t feel the need to consume all her drinks through a straw.

“His gedin'la memory is another matter,” she continued after a long quaff of said drink and a disgruntled crinkling of her nose. “But he’s not actually recording things. Mostly. I think.” The caveat came from the fact that she really didn’t know her ba’buir all that well sometimes; not even Bevan did. They could all mostly predict which way Boba Fett would jump -- he was, in many ways, an extremely reliable person, at least as far as certain things went -- but every now and then, he still surprised them all. But Mirta really didn’t think he bothered making regular holorecordings. Certainly not of daily life.

“I expect your parents have way more holorecordings of the mess of you lot than anybody does of me,” she went on. The bitterness that usually infested her voice whenever the topic of Jaina’s twin entered conversation was missing at the moment; this wasn’t their usual sort of discussion involving Jacen Solo. “Whether they wanted them or not,” Mirta added with a snort; no one was a fan of sludge-news, not even bounty hunters like her. “And until you can produce one documenting this so-called X-Wing escapade, I refuse to believe a word of it. And I am recording your lie right now,” she finished, patting her bucket affectionately.

[mandomirtagev]

Just A Little Girl Talk

@jedilegacied​ | continued from this.

“It is,” Mirta insisted, twirling a bare finger through another thick brown lock before drawing away and shrugging. “It’s surprising, for somebody who just lets it hang out there in all weathers and temperatures and whatnot.” She shook her own head, properly bucketed like a good mando, her dark curls sweaty but otherwise well-protected by the weight of beskar resting atop them. “It’s strange.”

Mirta narrowed her eyes thoughtfully -- not that Jaina would be able to see that, but the jetii had a knack for sensing Mirta’s reactions almost as well as an experienced mando who’d learned to look through beskar at a young age to see the skin within -- and added, “Do you get it from your mother’s side of the family, do you think? Alderaanians used to be known for fancy hairstyles, didn’t they?”

It was pure speculation; Mirta hadn’t made a study of old galactic history, and even if she had, details about fancy hairstyles from dead worlds wouldn’t have been included -- but she thought she remembered hearing some passing comment along those lines...

[mandomirtagev]

Carry You Home (Asshole)

@jedilegacied | continued from this.

Mirta laughed -- she couldn’t help it. The diminutive jetii looked so dejected, she felt like she was spending time with little Shalk instead of a grown warrior (at nearly eight, he was starting to itch to get into the field for some real training, and consequently tended to come off melodramatic over the least little thing). “Nah,” she said bracingly, “although they might think you’re acting like one right now.” Mirta raised an eyebrow over her smirk and added drily, “You know, one nice thing about a helmet is that no one can see you pouting.” Lest her words be taken too much to heart, she followed them up by patting Jaina’s shoulder -- although the brusque gesture might have been more welcome if the jetii had been a little less battered at the moment. At least she’d meant well...

“Yeah, of course you got the tracker on him,” Mirta continued, grinning. “If you hadn’t, I’d have left you to sit while I chased after. No sense rushing now that he’s got nowhere to go we can’t follow, though, so we might as well get you fixed-up before we resume the hunt.” She holstered her blaster pistol and slung her rifle over one shoulder, then extended a beskar-gauntleted hand toward Jaina and demanded, “Now up. You can throw yourself out the airlock when you’ve cleared it with ba’buir and not before.”

[mandomirtagev]

@kadbejetiise

“Solo! Tell me Dinua is lying through her buc’ye,” Mirta shouted, cupping her gloved hands around her mouth to help her voice carry across the wide swath of waving green-brown grasses between her and the Jedi. “Tell me you didn’t try and cook uj cake for their family! And you didn’t invite me and ba’buir to taste it?”

She probably should have waited until she was closer, or donned the yellow helmet dangling from her hip whose vocabulator could have projected her voice further than she could comfortably yell, but patience was not a Mando virtue and Mirta was too amused to delay. According to Shalk and Briila, Jaina’s cake had come out tasting more like bas neral than anything else -- although admittedly thanks to their mother’s and grandfather’s skills in the kitchen, the children did have quite high standards when it came to uj cake.

“I’m hurt, jetii!” she teased, striding nearer to the short, brown-haired woman with the glowing purple sword. “I thought we were friends!”