It was a big day, and months beforehand the letters were sent to all Clans of the Brotherhood. Help which was made from the (now fully) Arconan team for the Sirh village was appreciated, especially when Rancors and Poachers, and psychedelic fruits were included in the whole situation.
A few months passed now and thanks to kind of taming Candy and Lollipop, Sirh became the small capital of this planet - full of mead, wild venison meat from local sustainable grown creatures population, crafted bone ornaments, also elderly cooperation which effectively made Clar and Mymir to make a decision and officially announce their Wedding despite their late age.
Not only the members of Brotherhood were invited, also representatives from other villages, which without hesitation accepted it, as well as offered goods for a ceremony and reception. Only one party didn’t answer - the Uvena Prime high positioned Councilors.
Whole village looked totally different than previously. Additional walls were built and expanded to the valley, a new water corridor was created straight to the village to improve the quality of Ronto’s drastically growing herd which decreased tension between them and Candy living and showing more recently with a mate and kid in her valley during daylight. More walls surrounded the landing post and tall tree, with a huge gate standing to the tallest tree - favorite of the leading Ronto’s, the biggest of them all male.
In the center of the village was set up a field kitchen with a large round bonfire, small barbecue, and colorful bar next to it instead of continuously traveling merchandise tents. With Clan’s Arcona, former Aedile preparing all food in the middle of it, making all aroma of cooked dishes spreading around the village. Red was wearing purple trousers with pockets filled up with treats for creatures, and a blue long sleeve loose shirt. Sleeves now were rolled up his arms, as he was moving between the dishes and barbecue.
All walls and roofs were covered with red petals, joined together with finest fiber from Bantha’s fur, making waves and moving with softly blowing wind ceilings.
Close to the rebuilded, refreshed and upgraded Ears Monk’s Temple with additional crops fields, was made a temporary, from ornamental bones platform. Green vines and leaves tangled together above it, and purple flowers inserted between them making an additional roof above to protect from sudden, unexpected rain. All green “roof” was supported by two bonemade Rancor sculptures at each side.
At the front of the Temple was set up a flat wooden planks with different instruments held in the Shistavanen Monk’s paws, who this time were wearing the green, clean tunics with black sides running from the collars to the bottom, and small go through pockets at the shoulders to hold their smoking pipes and to enjoy them without taking them out which made them looking like burning from their shoulders.
The rows of the bone made chairs were made at the front of the platform, they had high backs, and comfortable cushions from the soft fur, and filled up with the aromatic, luxurious totally dry hay which was supposed to release wild forest scent each time anyone would sit on it.
At the walls were standing guards. They had their usual light, leather armors put on, but with green visible through tunics on them, with spaces in the material to let them reach their weapons - bows, daggers and short spears without any delay. Next to them Tajga was working on a small desktop with tiny cables coming out from it, and joining the wooden, thick walls. She was typing with the paws pushing the buttons, checking the measurements on the screen, and scratching her head from time to time. She was wearing a knee long skirt, made from vines and leaves, tangled horizontally with blue flowers alongside her waist. Above she had a brown, leather top with a mass of pockets at her sides, with only narrow red leather stripes holding it over her shoulders. The bottom of the top was ending with horizontally positioned purple flowers joining the colors with blue once under.
Behind the main gate, at the field between the both stripes of walls and the landing field, the large table was set up with a mass of different food supplied by other villages and merchants from other parts of Galaxy who engaged in trade with Sirh. Next to it were ten half size of main one benches to sit and eat, with fresh fruits in the bone bowls at the center. Each of the sitting areas had the wooden red roofs, lifted with ornamental wooden columns at each of four corners.
The usual Mymir’s merchant stand next to the landing field was now an open bar, with open access for anyone who wanted to grab something to drink the selection of local mead, products of Archian’s brewery and mass of favorite liquids from around Galaxy as of advice provided by Brotherhood Dark Council for Red.
Next to the open now main gate to the village were placed similar flat wooden planks as for the Ears Monk’s orchestra inside. Not far from, was builded a huge stable for any mounts which were used for incoming guests to travel at - to feed them, give them water and rest them before the way back. Inside of it was already one familiar for some people: Luggabeast and Happabore.
Outside of the village walls could have been seen the marksman targets, five meter long wooden tree trunks and heavy rock abdominal boulders laying at the grass, a small ring with floor covered with soft sand and leaves - as at last there was also made fenced area for the herd of young and mid age Ronto’s to feed and ride.
All villagers were wearing the green naturally made clothes. The female Shistavanens had the long dresses with blue sides, brown leather stripes made into the ribbons tangled with sporadic green vines into the material. They also had yellow flower necklaces. The male villagers had green top tunics, with green trousers - both with purple sides coming down the loosen clothes. They were wearing purple flower necklaces.
As the first ships started positioning to land, the oldest and the biggest male Ronto - the leader of the herd, slowly moved toward the tallest tree behind the second wall of the village. It stood up at the rear legs, lifting its body up, stretching its long neck up to reach to the higher growing tasty leaves. At one of the branches, looking straight into the eyes of the male Ronto was sitting Aksel in his green tunic with mixed purple and blue flowers. He made a loud laugh and with curiosity alongside Ronto was observing the landing guests.
While Ronto and Aksel were observing everything from outside of the walls, the elderly Shistavanen in the purple tunics, and green sides was slowly making his way to the landing field. He was older, even older than Mymir himself, with the long stick in his hand to support his body but still a lot of strength in his eyes. He looked at the male Ronto, smiled and said to himself. “It is good to see you old friend.” Like for the answer, Ronto made a deep wheezing, full of happiness sound from its nostrils and looked at elderly brown Shistavanen, who’s posture showed that he wasn’t the greatest athlete. His shorter abdominal, and short but thick arms and legs were supporting his wide jaw head at the very short neck. The black eyes, full of old knowledge, looked at the arrival of the Jawa’s representatives. He welcomed them with the words. “Welcome to Sirh.” At the same time male Ronto made a sound full of happiness again. “My name is Tort.” He said when the creature finished.
They were going back to fraking Uneva fraking fraking frak.
It was, however, he had to admit, a much different occasion. This time there was no nearly blinding, screaming panic, no hitting his brother, no pacing with enemy/stranger/renowned killer technically kidnapped in the back, no checking of chip vitals/coordinates and willing lightspeed to be faster, no Minnow saying I’m sure it’s fine and not understand, not understanding that it couldn’t be fine–
This time they’re in their ship, at a perfectly reasonable cruise approach, just them and Drakor in the hold. And they’re – rather, Foxen is – actually invited.
To a wedding.
Remarkable. And not the wedding he had calculated he would be going to by about a million miles.
He channels his ridiculous and insipid envy into productive action, tactical planning: boxing out the date/times amidst their reinvigorated search for Gaile, selecting outfits, confirming catering, creation of gifts for the couple, travel and guest expectations, etc.
Now, as Khal drops from hyperspace and drifts in low-power approach, the Mandalorian engaged the autopilot and left the cockpit, heading below. He stopped only to make certain he looked good and nothing was out of place, critically finding no dust/speck on the corset and metallic tie he had donned over his shirt once they made orbit; it wasn’t a piece one just sat around piloting in. Then, climbing to the bay.
Flyndt was down here somewhere, having stayed with Drakor most of the flight to keep the great beast company while taken from his sky and into a metal cage. Granted, there was no actual cage, but Foxen could still sympathize. Unblinking red eyes searched for home but didn’t immediately find him, instead landing only in the keeradak.
- “Hmm,” Foxen rumbled, and lifted his hand to knock on the wall, a questioning, clang? as he left the ladder. With measured steps he circled around the space, checking visually for the Omwati on Drakor’s other side without getting too close, but not finding him. He made himself look at Drakor too, rejecting every thought that shrieked of threatdeathriptear, jaw clenching as he forced muscles to relax, forced the hands to stay loose at the sides and then in pockets and not drawing knives.
A large black eye stared back at him. The beast made its noises. Foxen looked to the basket full of fruit for the animal that they’d brought, close to it.
Assess.
Thought of Flyndt.
Maybe?
Hrm.
He took a step closer.
One. Two.
Move, he told the body. One step. Two. Distance to close: 1 m.
0.96 m.
0.54 m.
Move.
The body reaches for a fruit. The hand is shaking. It grips. He tells it to lift out and offer it to Drakor, like he has seen Flyndt do at a distance.
The shaking is too hard. The grip fails, and the plum drops to the floor, rolling 0.3 m away.
The body respirates, and it is suddenly against the wall, back pressed to it, 4.5 m away from Drakor. It is failure.
Dammit.
But the heart rate and respirations are only elevated. The body is still. Here. And Foxen can still think.
Gee, not a full panic attack, how amazing, so great. Doing real good, champ.
The Nautolan hybrid huffed at himself, rubbing at his face. It was progress.
They’d just see how well being in that godawful village full of beasts and idiots went. If it weren’t for Tagja and Aksel and Flyndt, he’d have stayed at the house.
Oh, well. Confirm.
<@244244400488710155>
A bare olive hand reached down and picked up the dark plum. The color of which nearly matched the inked circle of dots and shapes running along the outside of the hand, half visible and the other half Foxen knew laid flush against the fruit’s flesh. A promise and an anchor. To always be known.
Flyndt offered the morsel up, two blue and purple beaded bracelets shifting with the movement. A large chiropteran head leaned down and huffed, gaze shifting from fruit to the avian, before a grey tongue slipped out and gently took the plum into his mouth. The Keeradak retreated to enjoy the treat, leaving the Omwati to move on.
Black leather boots, nicer than the ones he had worn on Kasiya, softly stepped across the durasteel deck as flowy dark pants rustled above their gathered cuff. His right hand was tucked into the crimson wrap across his torso that was three shades off of the more brilliant hue of his red feathers. The thin patterning on the cloth sparkled gold beneath the ship’s overhead lighting. Gold which conservatively accented his pants and the dark green puffy long sleeve shirt he wore.
Flyndt came to a halt half a meter away from Foxen, jingling an ivory and rosy wood beaded necklace against his chest – one the larger man had learned the two characters of a foreign script etched into the bone. For a brief moment, the avian tongue seemed to catch as he blushed, peach hues washing his olive skin and the upper feathers of his crest that were not tied back rising. He caught his gaze roving over the corseted vest and silhouette, and glanced away for a second.
“Hoo~”
Clearing his throat, the Omwati looked back to Foxen, mild concern fixed in his minute but the well known to the Nautolan expression. His hand withdrawing from cloth to flash a questioning ‘O.K?’
Red eyes homed in on home, on the Omwati, as busy looking as the other was. Only the motion of the question caught his attention away.
A small grimace pulled at the Mandalorian’s mouth, uncertain if Flyndt had seen his attempt fail or not.
O.K. he affirmed back, stepping forward off the wall and into the Omwati’s space. He took a deep breath, face softening at the scent, eyes crinkling and lips curling upwards. Just…could not do what I hoped to. Yet.
The last sign was made firmly, with determination. Then the motions gentled again, almost reaching towards Flyndt as he spoke, as if drawn to touch.
You look magnificent.
Small black Shistavanen with brown socks at his limbs, smiling at his snout, was sitting in the branches of the tallest tree, patting male Ronto above its nostrils. He was searching the sky with his shining and excited eyes, checking the details at every starship arriving with expectation to see familiar signs of the Brotherhood and possibly familiar faces.
A wedding, really? She looked at him, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance in her eyes as the words flitted from her mind into his. It really wasn’t like him. Of all the places they had been, of all the events they ‘had’ to attend as a matter of state function between the Thrones, a wedding in a primordial village was unique. There had to be a catch, a reason. The fact that he was bringing his ‘pet’ was proof enough of that. Even though she couldn’t see Tiamat, she could still feel her on the shuttle.
He just nodded as the tailor checked the shoulders of the new jacket. The shuttle banked as he moved himself around, letting the new leather settle aound him. The black and royal purple warcoat he normally wore lay across the bench next to the tailor, the new one representing a pallette shift. Dark green made up the bulk of the floor length leather, and the three slashes at the shoulder remained, but in a deep crimson. Beneath, his usual black robes remained, but with the purple bits made of a deeper hue, almost a dusky shade. The details were specific, arcane symbols stitched into the velvet, traced into the fabric of the liner. He turned, getting a feel for the movement of the garment. It was closer to his courtly attire, but still tailored for the potential of rapid and vigorous movement if necessary. AT least the boots were still the same. He wouldn’t have wanted to break a new set in at a formal event.
The tailor stood back, watching him move, then nodded before turning, stooping to pick up a parcel and moving toward her. She tilted her head at him, feral wariness in her glare.
It’s only a coat.. He measured her response carefully.
You said this was in the wilds. She sneered as the tailor unwrapped the parcel. This is what I wear in the wilds. She wasn’t lying, the shadowed brown and loose fitting fabric wreathing her body designed for comfort, range of motion. A double wrapped belt with her pouch, normally filled with rare herbs and flowers, settled against thigh high boots to protect from the brush, her shoulders left bare to keep her cool in the heat of the jungle. He nodded at the Nightsister gently, then let his eyes dart to the tailor and back. The dull throb of atmospheric entry rocked the ship gently. It would only be a few moments now.
She…didn’t hate it. It was some mixture of the distinct styles she wore. The length and cut of her brotherhood jacket, but the colors of a night time jungle, and a deep blood red swath of fabric for a…she couldn’t tell if it was a sash or a scarf. Her glare softened, though she tried to keep it from him. She let the man hold the garment up, slipping her arms into it and shrugging it on abruptly when he would have rather gently set it. He stepped back quickly, an arm offering the crimson. She turned quickly, the jacket flaring from the hip, showing the division for riding. It moves well. She took the red fabric, wrapping it around her waist, letting the edges drape against her legs. She lifted her eyes, seeing him watch her. She let her eyes smile a little. You owe me.
He just nodded.
The hiss of landing jets punctuated the crunch as the ramp extended. He cracked his neck slowly, giving time for the Nihilgenia to retrieve their gifts, containers full of good pelts from Kyataru, fine silk ropes twisted by master craftsmen south of Amahara, hand-blown glass beads with delicate flowers encapsulated from the shorelands, and hand forged folded arrowheads from the forge beneath their own castle at Kuroshin, casks of good wine from his forefather’s lands. He had worked some of those arrows himself, reacquainting himself with the old ways before he worked his new armor. He smiled at the thought.
He lifted his arm, opening a hand to take hers as the door opened. She stepped forward slowly, taking it and stepping with him as she had so many times before, bright sunlight playing along her auburn hair as it reached past her hips.
They could see the tarmac now. Boots clanged against the ramp as they made their way to solid ground, the Nihilgenia finishing loading the hovercart with the gifts. The pilot stood, talking to a Shistavanen with a datapad, focused intently on the device as he asked the question. “And the invitation is under…?” He stepped forward, his bride on his arm.
“Lord and Lady Keibatsu.”
“One day, even if not today,” Flyndt uttered in support.
A light smile replaced his concerned frown with a light hum. His feathers ticking with the warm lift of emotions. The scent of the gentle blend of spices the Omwati mixed into the dry powder he used to maintain his scalp between washes wafted to Foxen’s nose, covering the somewhat always lingering smell of Koskoto oil and incense. His inked hand rose to cup around one of the Nautolan’s once they stilled, massaging it lightly with his thumb.
“Thank you. You…you look very nice too, yes.”
Expert compliment, he mused to himself. Flyndt certainly allowed his gaze to rove over the Nautolan once more. A deep chuff of a sneeze from Drakor in the distance reminded him of the time.
“Hoo, we are close? Here? I can grab gifts and we be ready.”
The Nautolan smiled a little more for the assurances and the touch, that gentle massaging wonderful to the always-active muscles in his hand, and the tattoo inked there drawing his attention again with utmost rapture.
Every time he saw it, the question and answer replayed in his head:
Really? Are you sure?
Yes.
O.K.
O.K.
It was no guarantee of tomorrow. But it was a guarantee of a lifetime. Even when Flyndt left, they would know each other, stars and eons apart, and that would mean the continuation of existence; for if ever one day Flyndt thought of him, and called, or needed, he would answer, as long as he could, all that he could.
“…nice too, yes.”
Holy sunset eyes looked him over. A familiar peach touched olive cheeks. Foxen’s brows lifted, and he hummed deeply, taking note.
Something he liked, perhaps?
Shopping spree: soon.
For now: Yes, here. Landing in progress. Which I’m very fine with stopping. Red eyes roved right back, and he lifted the hand that had taken his to press a kiss over bare knuckles…and fit teeth over ink, a low bass rumble in question.
Silver and grey feathers rose on the back of his neck at the unexpected follow up to the kiss. Flushed peach cheeks puffed with a low coo as Flyndt exhaled. He punched him, knuckles connecting with a solid thuc against the expertly ribbed corset. But even as the Omwati stepped back and retreated, a smile parted his tattooed lips.
“No. Should not delay. I will get our things.”
As he walked away backwards a few steps, Flyndt smirked and raised his hands, pressing and flipping forward an L pinned against his palm. Later. He winked, then pivoted to continue on his way.
The Nautolan hybrid gave a groan to the promise, but it was amidst deep, gentle laughter, raspy whuffs from his throat. He feigned holding the punched spot like a wound, tripping back against the wall and sagging down it, then motioned an emphatic yes and blew a kiss.
Whoever had taught Flyndt about winking was a menace to society.
One who he needed to bake something for.
In short enough order, the rattle of connecting with and passing through outer atmosphere graced the ship, and Flyndt returned with two small packages, one wrapped in purple cloth, one in blue, the twine around each red and green. Two knives in two leather sheathes, respectively hand-made as a pair, though not identical.
Meanwhile, Foxen had gotten down a large box from one of the storage compartments, and this one was also full of gifts collected over the intervening months since the autumn festival, all of them wrapped in different papers or bagged or tied in bows. Despite being invited to the wedding – for reasons that boggled both of them, as neither man had been particularly fond of the wedding couple and had quite interrogated them, in fact – they were most here to see a different male and female: Aksel and Tajga.
Upon touchdown in the fields outside the village, Flyndt went to let Drakor free, and Foxen did the very difficult job of staying right where he was while it happened instead of sprinting away or vibrating into the wall. Drakor walked on its wing-hand things and feet past him, snuffling some, looking around and sniffing, and the Nautolan took a sharp breath and then ducked out down the ramp in front of the keeradak before he got there.
- Drakor was family. That meant: not going first and not going alone. Perform perimeter check. Assess threats.
Assessment: there’s fraking animals fraking everywhere I hate this fraking place.
Also: people, other ships. The village is different, watchtowers rebuilt and expanded. There are more rontos.
Yippie.
But at the moment the skies seem clear of insectoid poisonous night predators or other possible avians to contend with. No enraged rabid monkey things. The guards with bows could be put down with a knife or shot before they could draw on Drakor, if for some reason they tried.
It was…doable.
“Hrm,” Foxen grunted, and then let himself vibrate down the ramp and away from the hot damp maw that smelled like fruit and animal he could feel along every nerve of his back. He stopped 3 m ahead and angled to keep sightlines all around while also watching his home and home’s friend disembark.
Tort looked at the freshly arrived couple. Pushed his stick forward, step by step closing to them. “Welcome, welcome on this happy day!” He said showing a row of aged canine teeth with a wide smile. “Brotherhood isn’t it. Ha, ha, ha! We were expecting you.” He started to swing from side to side, closed his eyes and murmured a calming song which he ened with. “Ears bless you.” He smiled. “Please now, help yourself with food and beverage, and please choose a sit which you would like to take home after the ceremony.”
Tort noticed the next couple arriving , but before he could react, a little bigger than before black fur ball made his way between just greeting guests, him and his stick, and with motion jumped straight into Foxen’s arms. Aksel started to shake from excitement, and made strange but happy noises.
Foxen’s eye had started twitching as they were immediately assaulted by a new face of one of the bloody fraking rancor monks. However, his ire was undone by:
Girder-thick arms in long silken sleeves immediately cradled the little but growing body, one sliding under to support while the other patted at his back, mindful of the child’s special outfit of woven greenery and flowers.
“Hello, little one,” he mouthed silently, hugging the child and dropping a kiss to his flopping ears. He turned them protectively towards the ship, looking to Flyndt with a smile, as if to show Aksel off to him and Flyndt’s presence – the undisputed best of them all – off to Aksel.
<@244244400488710155>
There was likely not a single person in the galaxy who loved weddings as much as Severin Xand. The planning, the color schemes, the traditions, the happiness. While Sev had the body of a fighter, he was a big softie inside. He didn’t have much time to prepare his wardrobe once he had received his invitation. He had spent hours trying to locate the proper dress attire. He had only found scraps of knowledge, unfortunately. Red was an okay color, his gold jewelry would do, so he improvised with the rest. He wore cream, the color one would wear to a wedding in his tribe, as well as boots so that he could tranverse any rough ground.
The corset was just a little piece of himself he put into the look.
Several gold studs, claps, and saber-like earrings adorned his ears and gold rings devorated his fingers. He wore a simple gold watch but no other wrist wear, and rolled up his sleeves to show off it and his metallic silver tattoos.
His civilian short hauler landed with the hiss of his descent, settling him down in one of the designated spots. He had taken a quick trip home for his gifts, bringing several tropical looking fruits he had made sure wouldn’t be invasive or react basly with Shista physiology (praise to the Galeres Aedile for all her help in that). Gathered in a hand-woven basket with a tapestry from his home planet made of dyed wool in bright orange and green, laid several different fruits of different colors. One of them in particular, a pink fruit with multiple horn like protrustions, was a fruit saved specifically for weddings in his culture– a puāwai kōpuku, knot fruit.
Happily carrying his basket, he left the ship and was met with one of the Shista greeters.
“Name?”
“Severin Xand, here from Clan Arcona.”
“Land as far back as you can,” Rajhin directed the Iron Legion pilot. The Salt Shaker, the official Nau'ur-class Yacht he had inherited from his Fist predecessor, could be a bit bulky in tight landing spaces. When the council received an invitation to this wedding, the Togorian enthusiastically volunteered to attend as a representative. He did not, however, wish to draw too much attention to himself. The old soldier disliked pomp and circumstance. Rajhin wanted to convey the respect of having a member of the council attend but to otherwise mingle and just be another attendee. He hoped to help foster cross-clan connections whenever he could. A united Brotherhood was a strong Brotherhood.
The pilot did their best to comply with the Fist’s instructions but the 250-meter-tall shuttle didn’t exactly blend in. Oh well.
Rajhin waited at the shuttle’s ramp as it lowered onto the surface of the planet. Two Arconan warriors, Teon and Cryo, had accompanied him from Arx, some of the first to take advantage of the refit Royal Guard training facilities. “You will have to introduce me to some of your clanmates,” he remarked to the pair with genuine interest.
<@1056685516441006091> <@301514304845381632>
Tort connected the dots. These guests must be a part of the rescue mission which helped the village, especially with Aksel’s reaction which confirmed that. Temporary with small, steady steps to not injury his hips, he redirected his moves and attention to the Kessurian who mentioned the familiar Clan of Arcona to the young Shistavanen who was delegated to confirm the identity of the guests - who had a slight problem with using datapad with his paws as he had never used it before, and right now held it upside-down. “Ears bless you.” Tort said to the Arcona guest. “I hope you will enjoy the ceremony, your clothing looks very delightful. Please remember to choose your chair and ornamental bowl as a gift for you from the Bride and Groom.” He patted the new newcomer on the shoulder, while Ronto made a happy buzz sound from above the fence while looking at them. “Enjoy food and drinks. The sound of the horn will indicate the next step of the ceremony.” He smiled and started directing to the biggests ship that ever arrived to the village.
Nora Olen descended gracefully from the ship, her vibrant cerise skin catching the sunlight as she stepped onto the landing field. The festivities and vibrant colors of the Shistavanen village welcomed her, a stark contrast to the usual dark and imposing aura of Sith gatherings. She wore a flowing gown that matched the hues of her Zeltron skin, the fabric dancing with her every movement.
Approaching the main gate, she couldn’t help but notice the intricate decorations and the lively atmosphere. It was a far cry from the typical Sith gatherings, and Nora couldn’t deny the appeal of the change. She flashed a warm smile at the guards stationed at the gate, her green eyes gleaming with genuine interest in the festivities.
As she made her way further into the village, Nora observed the careful planning and attention to detail that had gone into the preparations. The aroma of the cooking food, the colorful bar, and the bone ornaments all added to the unique charm of the Shistavanen celebration.
Nora’s presence didn’t go unnoticed, and the villagers, clad in their naturally-made green clothes, exchanged curious glances as she passed by. She reciprocated with polite nods and smiles, making an effort to blend in despite the distinctiveness of her appearance.
Spotting the open bar, Nora decided to make her way there first. She approached the wooden planks with a certain elegance, her blue hair cascading down her shoulders. The bartender, noticing her arrival, greeted her with a nod.
“What can I get for you?” he asked, eyeing her Zeltron features with a mix of fascination and curiosity.
Nora leaned against the bar, her green eyes scanning the array of local mead and other beverages. “I’ll have a glass of your finest mead, please,” she replied, her voice carrying a warmth that seemed almost out of place in the Sith hierarchy.
As the bartender poured the mead, Nora took a moment to appreciate the lively ambiance of the celebration. The sounds of Shistavanen Monk’s instruments mixed with the chatter of the villagers created a unique symphony that resonated with the joyous occasion.
Nora, the Proconsul of Clan Plagueis, may have come to improve the public persona of her clan, but in this vibrant and welcoming village, even a Sith could appreciate the beauty of unity and celebration.
Drakor was certainly in no rush to leave the ship. The unusually massive specimen of a Keeradak ducked low beneath the hatchway, neck curling upward from hunched shoulders as huge red-orange eyes narrowed judgingly upon the sun above. He huffed and shook his head, loose dark scaley jowls jostling with the motion. Seemingly accepting of the somewhat vaguely familiar environment, Drakor slinked down the ramp with his belly scrapping low to the grooved metal. He crouched on the solid ground and curled his tail around his winged arms, the tail tip twitching was the only sign of discomfort in the otherwise confident animal.
Flyndt was not far behind the reptilian beast, coming up along Drakor’s side and reached out to scratch his shoulder. His gaze looked over the changes to the village, all the permanent expansions let alone the celebration setup. Sunset hues found Foxen, who held the excitable happy bundle of fur that could only be Aksel. Seeing Foxen with the boy was less and less surprising every time he witnessed the man interact with children. It left a warm fuzzy buzz of a feeling, and he was certain he could sit here all day and watch that. The Omwati returned the smile and moved to meet the pair.
‘Hello, Aksel!’ Flyndt signed to the death child, gestures energetic along with his warm smile. ‘You got so big! It is good to see you. You excited for today?’
“I’m actually relatively new to the clan, myself,” explained Teon, who stood to the Fist’s left. “So, we’ll likely both be meeting many of them for the first time.
As the trio descended the ramp and ventured into the village proper, noted the myriad living beings gathered there. Each one of them possessed a different "tune” in the Force–the unique way its flowing currents produced a kind of resonance within the ubiquitous energy field.
When he’d caught wind of a wedding ceremony and the open invitation to extended to all Brotherhood members, he step outside his comfort zone by attending. He’d never been to a wedding before. That the Fist himself was attending was an added bonus. They’d never officially met prior today and, while it was unorthodox to attend a wedding with one’s boss, he hoped that it would lead to a fruitful working relationship between the two.
“Hopefully, they won’t mind the fact that I’m in armor and not in a suit of some kind,” he commented, idly musing aloud as they walked.
<@185939710005215232> <@301514304845381632>
“I’m fine, and today will be awesome! I helped to paint a new statue in the valley for today! I have my own workbench now. Soon I will build my own droid!” He replied to Omwati with his small paws, as well as accuracy. “Torso will be made from the broken shield!” He jumped from happiness while maneuvering his short clawed paws. His ears popped up, big smile showed at his snout. “Where have you been? Did you make any new friends?” He asked.
Foxen listened – watching – intently, though seeing Flyndt smile at the boy, holding him while the Omwati signed to him and he signed back, lodged Strong Emotion in his chest like a thermal imploder gone off.
Just kill him already why don’t you, shit, damn, sweet frak.
He swallowed past a stubborn lump, smiling still and thinking with satisfaction of some of the many gift options they’d brought. Replying required adjusting his hold on Aksel, especially with the excitable little one jumping around, so he hefted the pup higher in one arm with his shoulder as an optional brace and used his other hand to hold out and join the conversation piecemeal.
Excited to see your droid. You and Flyndt both great builders. Should see his droid next time too. Yes? This was directed at Flyndt, also allowing the Omwati to answer the questions however he liked, curious to then thoughts. <@244244400488710155>
Archian spotted the familiar Zeltron tasting the mead at the close to the kitchen set up bar, while rotating the Bantha steak at the frying pan. “Welcome to the ceremony, Proconsul.” He waved to her with the tongues which he was holding in the paw. Straight after he corrected the blue sleeves of his shirt. Two Monk’s holding flutes passed Nora, and noticed glass of mead in her hand. “Ears bless you and the mead that you consume!” They both said totally synchronized in meditation type of voice. Red saw that and chuckled.
At the same time Happabore walked from between the Bar and Kitchen building, and yawned, opening his jaws widely. It looked at the member of the Plagueis Clan and happily wiggled his short tail. “Not now, Happy!” Archian raised his voice, and threw one of the fish to the open wide creature’s jaws. Happabore swallowed all of it at once, reversed backwards between the buildings and directed himself back to the stables outside of the inner walls.
<@585955949743964170>
Tort approached three figures which included Miraluka, resembling human Firrerreo, and distinctive looking Togorian. “Ears bless you.” Tort said to the trio. “Mymir will be happy to see representation from the Dark Council… which you are, I assume.” He calmly said with respect. “I admire your clothing, and this armor. I do not remember the last time I wore armor ha ha.” His eyes fogged in the memories. Suddenly he came back to the present. “Oh! Apologies, old age always plays tricks on you. Please help yourself with food and drinks. If you have any questions do not hesitate to ask anyone in the village.” He explained. “Orchestra is assembling, and soon it will play its first sounds.” He widely smiled, and lifted his brown head up to look closer at the tall feline looking warrior.
He stepped to the side and while looking at the Firrerreo said. “Ladies first. And please remember to choose your plates and chairs to take home.” He said and bowed his head - from behind the wall still visible above it Ronto’s head did the same, and spread happily air through its nostrils.
<@1056685516441006091> <@185939710005215232> <@301514304845381632>
Nora raised her glass to acknowledge Archian’s welcome, a playful smile on her lips. The aroma of sizzling Bantha steak reached her, enhancing the already enticing atmosphere of the celebration. “Thank you, Archian,” she responded, her green eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.
As the two Monks passed by, offering their blessings, Nora dipped her head respectfully. “May the Ears indeed bless this joyous occasion,” she replied, taking a sip of the mead. The synchronized voices of the Monks resonated with the mystical aura of the Shistavanen ceremony, and Nora found herself caught up in the unique energy of the village.
Amused by the interaction, Red’s chuckle caught her attention. The communal spirit of the event was infectious, and even a representative of Clan Plagueis couldn’t help but be drawn into the harmony of the moment.
Her focus shifted to the Happabore as it strolled by, its wide yawn and happy tail wagging earning a light chuckle from Nora. She watched as Archian threw a fish to the creature, diverting its attention. The scene added an unexpected touch of charm to the festivities.
During the arrival of the guests, Shistavanen Monks started to gather at the wooden platform. Each of them was holding different music instruments, but all of them had a good smoke from their pipes - this time the mix of calming herbs which mixed with Scurrier’s stew aromatic flavors of the local herbs. Two of them took a deep breath, and first sounds waved through the space of the village by their flutes. Behind them at the stand holding four drums, Chillaks slowly reached his position, and sat behind them. Slowly with rhythmical moves, started gently to tap the leather material with palms of four arms, connecting and following the rhythm of the flutes, inviting everyone to come closer to listen, drink and enjoy a little snack.
“You honor us with your hospitality,” Rajhin replied to Tort with a deep bow. The Togorian noticed other shuttles arriving behind him, “I would love to hear tales of when you last donned a warrior’s armor. I will have to return when there is a lull in arriving guests.” He turned toward the Firrerreo standing beside him and extended an arm toward the larger party, “Ladies first.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@301514304845381632>
Cryo, like Teon, was rather new to clan Arcona. She had only joined the month prior and, since then, had spent her time training various members of the AAF, choosing to live a life away from the chaos of the battlefield. But, admittedly, she was going a little stir-crazy in her modest apartment back home and needed a break to somewhere new, which is why she was exceptionally grateful to Teon for giving her an opportunity to do so, as well as an opportunity to join a new team.
The woman followed the aforementioned Miraluka as well as a large Togorian towards the village, where they were met by an individual named Tort. “Thank you for the warm welcome,” Cryo replied before proceeding into the village. <@1056685516441006091> <@185939710005215232>
“Thank you for having us, sir,” said Teon with a slight bow of the head, “And it’s always nice to be in the company of a fellow warrior, either current or a veteran.”
As they approached the larger gathering of guests, Teon kept his arms folded behind his back to maintain an air of professionalism.
“Who should we introduce ourselves to first?” he asked the two who accompanied him.
<@301514304845381632> <@185939710005215232>
Syido had answered the summons for the festivities and it been suggested he’d be apart of this gathering - much to his protest and relented only because it seemed right. He wasn’t much for mingling with other folk and much preferred the solitude of his thoughts or Droid friends. He knew no one around, new to Clan Arcona and the brotherhood at large, he was just not used to it all.
Syido dressed modestly, no decoration or flashy uniform but his beige tunic hemmed with green fabric, his saber worn on the right, hooked to a belt and partially obscured by the folds of his over robe. His ears were drooped low and floppy, covered by a deep cowl apart of a long over robe covering much of his short frame and a long white tail peeking out from under it. His fur was stark white with a slight brown accented along his neck, those green eyes of his ever observant of those around him.
One thing for certain. He felt short. Everyone
Off the craft that brought him here, Syido kept to himself and took in where he was. “Quite a fanciful feel here.” He said aloud to himself, smiling slightly.
‘Trilll! Fwoop Dee Bwooo!’ A tiny little droid chirped alive as a boxy head poked up over the Kushiban’s left shoulder. Its lens adjusting and it beeped again *‘Bwoop!’ *
“No B-Seventy.” Syi’ held up his right hand to the droid with one finger held up. “I don’t want you near Rancor anyways.”
‘Bwooo…’ The droid chirped, lowering its head a little and adjusted its lens again.
Syido shook his head, giving a sigh and brought his hands together, tucked in the sleeves of the robe. Why in the world would he even want to go be near a creature when he was already dwarfed by others here? “Hm.”
Syido still couldn’t help but feel nervous. And feel… a bit out of place.
Zae’s ears twitched at the bustling noise of the wedding. Sounds of the jungles around them did not go unnoticed. She let out a low growl in nervousness. This… was becoming quiet crowded. But she wanted to meet other Shistavanens besides the ones on the Voidbreaker II. Ever since she left her pack, Zae had been feeling a bit homesick.
Oddly, this place wasn’t helping her. Maybe because she grew up in a ship and not so much in the jungle. It was disappointing to her. She loved to hunt and run through the jungle. How much different her life would’ve been if she was born in a place like this?
Bright icy blues looked around as the silent Shista made her way in.
Tajga finally connected the right fiber cables, clicked a few buttons and set up the timer. When she lifted head above the screen, and looked down, spotted a not familiar, but interesting female blue-eyed Shistavanen getting closer to the gate who looked hesitating where to go.
Teenage Shistavanen disconnected her datapad from the console, placed it behind her skirt, grabbed the edge of the wooden column, and slided down, while trying to not let her skirt lift up. She landed next to white-gray Shistavanen, brushed off small wooden dust from her clothes, and with a smile started to gesture. “I’m T-A-J-G-A. Nice to meet you. Are you from Arcona?” She asked, and also spotted Foxen, Flyndt and Aksel at the landing field. She waved to them. <@216702440140046336> <@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>
Tort focused on newly landed Kushiban. He slowly walked to him, looking with fascination at the newcomer and droid. “Welcome.” He said to him. “My name is Tort. I hope you are feeling well. We do not see many of your species around here, so apologies for gazing at you from me and other villagers.” He cheerfully explained, looking a little above at the Kushiban from his 140 cm. <@217809834383245314>
Zae was so distracted, she didn’t notice the younger Shistavanen had landed by her and made sure that she was in visual range. Her ears went back slightly in ‘airplane mode’ at seeing her… moving paws.
Oh. Well. Kist.
She let out a low growl in apology and shook her head at Tajga.
Seeing Tajga emerge from the village, Foxen used his free signing hand that wasn’t holding Aksel to wave back, adding, hello, Tajga. <@216702440140046336> <@244244400488710155>
Tajga understood quickly her mistake by assuming that everyone was familiar with basic sign language. She took her datapad, and quickly tapped her words in. She volumed up the speaker, and the robotic voice repeated her words to Zae.
Flyndt paused, his mind flicking back to a recent mission, of Archian’s shield generator left broken and sputtering after withstanding a force far greater than it could handle. He mused whether this was what the child was using for his droid but decided not to inquire upon its origin. Let the child not think of war and arms for some time yet. That smile was infectious. The avian humanoid could feel his own pulling wider than usual. The following questions, however, drew a more thoughtful look as he debated how to answer. A large dark hand joined the conversation and bought him a bit of time.
It was as if the L0-LA droid had felt they were speaking of it. The small discus body peaked out from the hatch and stared with a cracked lens at the trio. Drakor stretched with a rumble and shifted to curl at the moment under what he could of the spacecraft. The movement of which caused the droid to shy away briefly. Her processor evidently recalled the Keeradak startling at her own presence and accidentally yeeting her with a flick his tail - damaging her lens and denting her chassis.
Flyndt was about to agree about meeting the L0-LA next time when he spotted the stuttering flight of the droid. Mal'nies periodically hoovering with a more than audible whirr, gaining a half meter off the ground before plopping back down. The Omwati chittered lightly, clocking Drakor’s location before whistling a short tune that sounded almost like dancing pollinators buzzing. Soon the circular droid was in his hands and hefted up for the youth to see.
“I met many–” he cut off, realizing an error. Clearing his throat, Flyndt shifted the L0'LA so it’s belly rested on his forearm like a shelled reptile. He did his best to try and convey his words with one hand, borrowing what he could remember from Foxen’s own adaptations due to past injury.
“Saw many people, two new F-R-I-E-N-D-S. This,” he patted the droid’s back, “One name, M-A-L-N-I-E-S.” .
When he finished, Flyndt followed Foxen’s gaze and also gave the older sibling of Aksel a wave.
The rhythmical music was played inside of the village walls, more ships had landed, more guests were arriving, muting the sounds of the surrounding jungle. The rhythmical, heavy footsteps covered through the music shaked the ground, and the large shadows came closer to the Valley and close to the landing field gate. Besides that Jotaz slowly passed through the gate inside, carrying a heavy crate of goods.
Foxen’s eye twitched at the heavy steps shaking the ground familiarly.
Like, say, Candy and Lollipop.
Deny deny deny denydenydeny.
Thankfully Aksel was watching Flyndt’s hands and Mal'nies, so the Nautolan’s sudden blanch in expression, between horror/irritation before shutdown, wasn’t visible.
He took a deep breath, focusing on the sight before him:
Drakor, trying to hide from pesky bright sunlight by squeezing himself under the ship ramp – relatable.
Mal'nies’ drunken bumblebee flight, bobbing up and down and then finally cradled onto Flyndt’s arm.
Tajga, getting taller, and Aksel, so happy to see them. Children. Signing with Flyndt.
Flyndt, dressed like this. Resplendent in the daylight. Smiling. Speaking with his hands for them. For him.
The tattoo.
Breathe out.
Reaching out, he brushed the back of that inked hand, a tender touch to call attention, and then held his up, folding middle fingers down while thumb and and single finger went up and out.
Hey. I love you.
Stop, look, pay attention. Silver eyes swept the area around him. His face was pleasant, smiling softly, but his gaze was sharp. There were a lot of faces here he remembered from dossiers, important faces even. One of the karking former Grand Masters was here. Members from his own clan that he knew thanks to Siva– Foxen, Flyndt, Teon –and some others he didn’t but remembered them from research. Hell, even the Fist was here.
Addyn would be having a field day if he had come.
And just like that Severin was overwhelmingly aware that everyone had come with someone else and he was all by his lonesome. Again. Earring crusted ears flicked slightly and the Kessurian-echani hybrid moved to go put the gift he was holding down with the rest of them, then head to the bar. He desperately needed a drink now that it was blaringly obvious that he was single.
His mind trickled back to Savi but he pushed it away. Savi was off doing something somewhere and he didn’t want to bother them. So he was going to be at a wedding, alone, drinking.
Gods this was like a bad holofic.
“Let’s not overthink it,” The Togorian replied jovially. “Let’s see how the evening unfolds,” he paused for a moment, “did you hear something?”
“Now that you mention it, I think I did…” Cryo replied hesitantly. What could be making a sound like that? A ship, perhaps? She turned to look, immediately drawing a blaster once she realized what she was looking at <@1056685516441006091>
Syi’ pulled his hood down all the way, his ears springing up half way and swept in a short bow. A gesture of greeting and respect, he held his gaze up and rare was it he could almost not have to look up so much. “Aye, I am Syido.” His nose twitched slightly at a short glance at… a small rancor.
‘BWOOP BOO TWEE!’ The BD Droid raised its head higher, its ocular lenses focusing like it were excited. ‘Trill’
Oh dear. Gathering his composure again and ignoring the droid for now, Syido with a smile and a nod acknowledged Tort. Perhaps if he ignored B-70 he could just…not. “I am as well as I can be, time away from my studies is always nice when its to partake in light heighted festivities.” His fur was standing slightly on end with a shifting grey color change from the accenting brown in small splotches. Concern. Nervousness. Clearing the throat as the droid beeped and trilled again with its shifting lenses focusing as it looked around.
“To be fair, I don’t see many of my own kind either, maybe a few.” Syi’ held his hands together again inside the sleeves of his robe and let his ears straight out.
‘BwoOOooOOo.’ B-70 looked at Syido after it saw the little thing nearby.
His ear twitched. “No.”
‘BwooOooOOo.’ B-70 insisted, its head raising up and down like a child bouncing in their seat.
“No.” He reaffirmed, “We are guests here.”
‘Bwoop? Bwoo…’ The droid looked at Syi’ then Tort, then back at Syi again and finally once more at Tort. ‘Tetebwoop?’
Syido bowed slightly and sighed. “I apologize, research partner. It wants to scan new things. But now’s not a time to work.” He smiled slightly and tried to remember his studies and training. To relax. Breath. And why B-70 wanted to be such a scamp.
The droid looked at Syi’ again. Then back at Tort, a little red light blinking between its lenses. ‘Bwoop.’
Immediately when Rancors showed up, all Monks stopped what they were doing. They raised their hands above their hands and shouted. “EARS BLESS THE CANDY!” Firstly. “EARS BLESS THE LOLLIPOP!” Secondly. “EARS BLESS THE BUBBLEGUM!” As third. All three Rancors made grumbly, but happy sounds, with one light punch at the wall from Candy and Lollipop at each gate.
Straight after blessings, four Monks emerged from the building of the Monastery, pushing two barrows. Two of each directed to each of the gates, rolling the barrows, and whistling the calming song. They stopped at their final destinations next to gates. Without hesitation both adults Rancor took barrows in their hands, snapping the top of it with claws, and drinking delicious mead. Only Bubblegum with interest was staring from behind Rajhin at the blaster held by Cryo, making again a happy grumble.
Oh. So the young one.. she couldn’t speak or… was she unable to hear?
Her muzzled wrinkled in uncertainty as her tail twitched once.
She rose her paw and pointed to her own ear, “Can hear?” Zae asked Tajga, wondering if she needed to type on the datapad or not. Zae flinched at the sudden shouting from the monks and turned to look where it was coming from. Then she saw them.
The Rancors.
Her lip curled slightly into an almost snarl but … no one was fighting them. No one was screaming.
What.
Muz watched her try not to smile. At his side, the Nightsister’s eyes knew the sounds, knew the smells, there was no mistaking it. Ashia’s expression told him all he needed to know. One was younger, and she thought it was absolutely cute. He was grateful that she had just gotten a new juvenile, otherwise he might have had to figure out a way to tactfully negotiate in this setting, and he wasn’t sure that was even possible without a diplomatic incident.
On the other side of him, muted surprise. Tiamat hadn’t expected Rancors. Her mind reached out to his almost instinctively, his reaction calm and measured in an effort to keep her the same way. Images flashed from her in his mind, fantasies of how to best deal with havoc, should the natives lose control. Scenes of gore and raw power filtered through before he turned his head toward her, black eyes gleaming in the jungle heat.
Stop.
Tiamat recoiled, the compression of the Lion’s arte seeming to envelop her senses, the familiar feeling something that she hated and craved in the moment before it subsided. She dipped her head a degree, then straightened her back. There was no threat, after all. She just…was eager to stretch her will.
She looked back at him, his gaze unflinching, his expression unchanged. If she couldn’t control her wilder proclivities, he would. She would get her chance to flex her muscles, when the time was right. It was a wedding, after all, and she had studied the old tomes for just the right thing. She would relish the chance to use it again.
Tajga didn’t even pay attention to all three Rancors. She waved to the newly met Shistavanen, and typed in datapad which sounded with this time more female voice. “I can hear, but I don’t speak. He, though, will not be able to hear you.” She pointed with last words at Aksel standing with Foxen and Flyndt, and laughing from Lollipop who just sat down, resting his back at the outside wall, and burping after consuming a barrow of the mead.
Tort just laughed. “I won’t make a blessing for them, because this is not my village, but I respect their power.” He explained. “Also if it wants to scan them…” He pointed at the droid flashing with his red light. “I would recommend Candy, she is more used to machines around her.” He pointed at the other corner of the village where could be heard last smack into the wall of the Rancors hand.
When the ground began to tremble beneath his feet, Teon paused. It wasn’t long after that the massive silhouettes of what he recognizes as two Rancors appeared from behind the gates!
“By the Force,” the Miraluka said to himself. To see feel the Force churning within those massive forms wasn’t something he’d expected to see today. At least they didn’t seem hostile. Nor did the juvenile Rancor who had attempted to sneak up on the three of them, but Teon couldn’t afford to take any chances while the Fist was present. As Cryo drew a blaster, he took a slight step to his right to place himself in front of Rajhin.
“Now, now, be a good rancor along,” he said, while waving his hand to shoo the animal off. And thankfully, it did so. After uttering a sound that he suspected was one of happiness, it picked up a crate of supplies and followed after the Jotaz.
“That went better than I thought it would.”
<@185939710005215232> <@301514304845381632> <@571544963607822336>
Rajhin patted Teon on the back with slightly too much force. “That was inspiring, you showed no fear as you faced that creature down!”
“And what would you have done if they hadn’t just listened to you?” Cryo critiqued, shaking a bit as she holstered her blasters, feeling a little self conscious about how she reacted
Teon wasn’t expecting the hefty hand of his new boss to land on his back, but he played it off as if it didn’t surprise him too much.
He addressed Cryo’s question next:
“Well, that’s what the shield is for,” he replied, tapping the deconstructed shield hanging on his hip.
<@301514304845381632>
Jotaz walked towards the field kitchen and the bar. When next to it, Small One looked down at Archian who was just turning still blue Bantha Steak and grumbled. Red picked it up from the hot metal, set aside and after making sure it cooled down, threw it to Jotaz. Predator dropped the crate at the floor, and caught the still bloody piece of meat, turned around and went the same way as he came - Bubblegum instead was staring at Red, who threw steak as well. She put it halfway to her jaw, and followed Jotaz.
Red set aside all his kitchen tools, and with a small bone ax opened the crate. He took out a few different drinks from a big stash inside - his collection from around the Galaxy. “Finally, it is time…” He smiled and nodded to the Monk who was standing next to Monastery and smoking his pipe. Elderly Shistavanen in the green robes, ran inside of the building and after seconds passed the bells started to ring for the whole village.
Tajga, when she heard it, quickly took the datapad out and clicked a button. “Everybody please come to sit, eat, drink and celebrate inside the village!” The similar electronic female voice announced, as Tajga used before to communicate. She also pushed the second button, and all walls inside and outside the village started to lighten up with green, yellow, purple and blue colors.
Tort looked at Syido. “Time to come inside, the whole fun is starting now! Please come, come everybody!” With excitement he pointed at the gate to everyone who arrived. With short brown legs, slowly but accelerated movements started to walk through the gate.
At the provide table was selection of drinks, variety of vegetarian dishes, and various meat: each differently grilled Bantha Steaks - depending on preferences, BBQ Porgs Wings, Nuna Tights in crispy breadcrumbs, Borcatue meatballs in the sticky sauce, and huge size Ronto shoulders in the herbs and seasonings. And more as was advised by Dark Council.
The feast was ready, and tables were welcoming to sit and celebrate!
His only notice of the Rancors approach, as engrossed he was in sharing a passion of droids with young Aksel, was the slight tile and shift of Foxen’s head – indicating that those iris-less eyes were looking off somewhere. He glanced briefly to follow that movement, and spotted the beasts coming in. Lollipop seemed to stay near the entrance, the jotaz moved on while carrying surprise, and the young Rancor seemed to have been redirected away from the landing zone. All of that did not matter as much as ensuring Foxen was okay right now.
A brush against the hand that balanced Mal'nies on his arm drew his attention quicker. That mishaped ‘I love you’ held between them. The omwati gave a short hum, inked lips curling into a small warm smile. He returned the gesture with his free hand.
Flyndt went and offered his L0'LA droid his shoulder/back to perch and dangle from. She took it with quiet binary gratitude and settled down.
“Let us go speak with your sister, yes”
Smiling in near dreamy fashion back, Foxen repeated the statement with his hand and then turned them all towards Tajga. The couple, Foxen still carrying Aksel, moved over to join the young Shistavanen girl and the older stranger she was communicating with. Foxen paused to see if Aksel wanted to stay with him or get down, waiting for a reply then signing to Tajga.
Hello, sweetheart. How are you? Is this your friend? Hug? he asked.
<@571544963607822336> <@216702440140046336>
“I see.” Zae responded to Tajga as she looked over to Aksel and saw two others with him. Though she didn’t have much to say to the teenager. She never was a fan of talking. They headed over to them and Zae shifted back, her eyes looked around the area. It was still so … odd to her to see all those creatures and no one was hunting them.
Disappointing. But she knew better. This wasn’t her place and home so she wasn’t going to cross any line.
“Tajga, good to see you again,” Flyndt uttered as the trio joined the two Shistavanens. Mal'nies peaked over his shoulder, cracked ocular lens refocusing on the new people as she trilled lightly.
The Omwati shifted his attention partly away from the conversation beside him. Crimson feathers rustled in the light breeze as Flyndt rested two fingers on his chest and dipped his head slightly. “Greetings, I am Flyndt. You?”
“…What’s a shield going to do against a rancor?”
“The same thing it does to everything else,” he replied matter-of-factly, “Besides, it was a juvenile.”
“Never been better. Look, I made these clothes myself!” She signaled - Tajga made a 360 degree circle in the spot with her body, then proceeded to hug Foxen. “We just met, but I like her.” She nodded in Zae’s direction.
In the meantime Jotaz was on his way, holding the Bantha steak, and passing a group of three Shistavanens, Flyndt and Foxen to the other table full of food.
Nautolan and the oldest of Shistavanens couldn’t not notice that between Jotaz legs was hiding Porg with Mandalorian helmet and rocket backpack, imitating ninja and trying to reach the stand of the freshly caught fish next to the walls - jumping and sneaking behind crates, tables, chairs and directing themselves to the gate other guests. <@244244400488710155> <@244244163002892288> <@216702440140046336>
“Right… It was a long trip and I’m hungry. Gonna go grab something to eat, feel free to join me if you’d like.” Cryo said to the pair before splitting off and heading towards food <@185939710005215232>
Setting Aksel down, Foxen returned the hug, then stood back and looked up and down at Tajga’s clothing with a ruthlessly critical eye. He leaned right and left, to better see the back and sides again from her first complete spin, and then gave a, “Hrm.”
You’re doing an excellent job. I would never have tried to stitch with that, but your lines hold up and the seams are neat. Bold color choices. I can see the hours that went into this for the occasion. Wonderful, Tajga. You honor C-L-A-R and M-Y-M-I-R. Did you make any others? He paused in his assessment to smile at her, then at Flyndt, then back. Maybe you’ll let me commission you.
<@244244400488710155>
Sev settled into his seat and the bar and ordered a drink, though his attention was soon caught by the Miraluka off in the distance attempting to talk down a rancor… which worked. Holy fracking kist it worked. The Kessurian hybrid blinked as he sipped on what seemed to be some deviation of a mai-tai, his eyes assessing the situation going on.
His earpiece suddenly activated, causing him to jump as the sound of Addyn’s voice filled his ear.
How in the hells…
“Ah, look at the company you’re keeping, Severin.” The Chiss’s voice was silken, but carried that edge, that shadow that always set him off. That edge that made him absolutely terrified of how much his sister seemed to adolize the man. The Kessurian-echani’s jaw set and his posture straightened from the moping slouch he had taken previously.
“I knew a higher education and a pristine record would keep my boy in the best of repute. Mingle, learn, report back to me what you find.”
A click registered in his ear before he had a chance to respond, but he knew Addyn was still listening.
“Aye,” he mumbled as a response, taking another sip of his drink. Just like that, this afternoon had turned from fun to work in the blink of an eye.
He should have listened to Savi and stayed home.
After the encounter with the rancor, Teon decided he could use a drink. Besides, this was a wedding, right? And their hosts invited them to partake and drinks, so, it’d be rude for him to deny their offer. He’d only have a drink or two, though–not enough to get drunk since he was still technically on the job.
Teon moved up to the bar next to where Severin was sitting.
“Excuse me,” he announced his presence to the person standing on the other side of the counter, “A Cassandran brandy, please.”
While he waited for his beverage, he turned around and leaned his back against the counter, letting his Sight open to everyone around him.
“On its way!” Younger than other Monk replied, taking two cups in his paw, adding a little of the eyes from under the counter, and shaking it ferociously. His fast moves cumulated a static point, his orange fur started to fluff up from his paws up to the arms under the green robes, making him look like the person who was just struck with lightning. After a couple seconds he removed the top cup, grabbed a small ornamental bone cup and poured ready Cassandran Brandy for Miraluka. “Keep the cup - it is a wedding gift.” Young Monk said, while his fur was coming back to normal. “Can I serve anyone else?* He said with excitement from a new job, and looked at everyone sitting at the bar from under his hood with citrus eyes.
In the meantime Archian plated Happabore ribs in the honey glaze at the large dish, and while passing it to the supporting him elderly Monk waved to sitting and enjoying drinks guests. “Hello.” He waved with tongues, smiling with his crooked smile, and a typical twitch in right eye. <@585955949743964170> <@1056685516441006091> <@264959101384130560>
Teon reached out to take the cup and ran his fingers across the surface. It was smooth, yet notably more porous than wood or ceramic. “Is this bone?” he asked, “Thank you for the gift. I wish I would have had time to bring a gift of my own, but my attendance was unexpected.”
When Archian greeted them, he lifted a hand to wave at him.
Well that seemed like the perfect time to slip in.
Smiling faintly, more for the sound it would give his voice, Sev turned to the Miraluka.
“Well, you certainly picked a good wedding to show up to. Imagine if it had been a Coruscanti wedding— sometimes they have up to three outfit changes depending on how posh they are.” There was a drop of humor in his voice. He dated a Coruscant noble at a point and had been drug along to one other their second step cousin five times removed’s (or something similar) wedding. It had been… exhausting.
Sev placed his drink down and offered his hand, several golden rings adorning his fingers.
“Severin Xand. And you arrree….?”
But he already knew. Teon Sul, brother-in-arms to Wulfram Armis, Mandolorian, loosely soon to be related to Siva due to her impending marriage to Alexandyr and the overarching “family” Mandolorian culture gave. Guard of the Fist, force sensitive, etcetera etcetera etcetera…
He hadn’t realized he was so handsome.
“That sounds exhausting,” he admitted, continuing to face forward while addressing the man sitting next to him. In his few visits to the Galactic capital, he’d never had the opportunity to learn about the lives of the Coruscanti elite. Not that he really wanted to, either. People who lived in luxury while so many were shackled by extreme poverty had nothing worthwhile to offer him.
Severin Xand. He recognized that name.
“You’ll have to forgive me, Severin,” he replied, “I’m not big on shaking hands. But my name’s Teon.”
He did, however, raise his drink for a toast.
“Staying out of trouble? Or are you planning to be arrested by another member of my family?”
Young Bartender turned around. Looking at the cup in Miraluka’s hand. “Yes. It’s bone - Great Oopik’s, if I am not mistaken. Every cup was especially made for a Wedding from fallen creatures found in the jungle.” He said while drying one of the other cups with a towel from his shoulder, imitating a move, watched in black and white movie where the bartender had a black neck tie with white shirt - he was glad that Tajga let him borrow it.
Guests sitting at the bar could notice a small rumble under the counter. The Mandalorian helmet showed up to Kessurian from under the bar, the red-light from the helmet showed just next to Zeltron’s tall chair, and Miraluka could sense the focused eyes staring at the wall of the building opposite to the bar, where Old Monk with hood at the head was drinking mead and wriggle his toes in the sandals. <@585955949743964170> <@264959101384130560> <@1056685516441006091>
“I could sew you a nice dress.” Tajga smiled with play in her eyes, showing the answer to Foxen. In the meantime Aksel came closer to Flyndt and put his paw at Omvati’s hand. Then with a boop showed his stomach, and looked at the table full of the food visible from behind the gate.
<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>
Deal, Foxen replied, arching a pierced brow in challenge and smiling back at her. I’ll get you my measurements. Might suggest a short hemline, or you’ll have to use a lot of material for the skirt, but I leave it to your vision either way.
Then her looked to Aksel and Flyndt, even the seconds without his eyes on the Omwati too long and aching with missing the vision of him, a balm before turning to assess the older Shistavanen.
He did not recognize her, but noted her, and her predatory, stiff movements. Like an uncertain animal. The Nautolan hrm’d, and, given Tajga had been using the pad to her, merely snapped his fingers in the female’s direction and lifted his chin, meeting blue eyes with a silent challenge and question.
Zae slightly smiled when Tajga swirled around, showing off her dress. Heh. Zae never been a dress person. Flowy fabric had the tendency to get in the way or get snagged by something. Not ideal for scouting or hunting.
The bird species which she had not yet met in her travels greeted her and introduced himself as Flyndt.
“Zae.”
Zae’s ear twitched at the snapping of fingers, she glanced over and up to the massive Nautolan and noticed the nod. Having worked as a mercenary for several years, she returned the slight nod.
After the excitement of the rancors, Rajhin deliberately meandered a bit, taking the sights of the venue and letting his travelling companions do their own thing. After a minute or two of wandering and enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the impending ceremony, the Togorian decided he had worked up a thirst on his journey and ventured toward an empty section of the bar counter.
Rajhin listened intently as the bartender described the nature of the bone cups, the more he learned about the local culture the more he liked his hosts. Waiting to catch the bartenders attention he inquired, “You wouldn’t happen to have Cortyg brandy?”
Young Monk Bartender enthusiastically dived under the counter. There were glass bottles moved, and a bag of cold ice showed up at the front of the Rajhin. The smiley face of the Bartender showed up behind it. “Yes - we got it. But… It is a Tamer… But… just one second.” Monk looked at the Archian who was slipping small circles of vegetarian pizza inside of the stone oven, but still kept attention to what was happening at the bar. Red pointed at the wooden crate which earlier was dropped by Jotaz between Kitchen and Bar. Monk Shistavanen jumped to it, opened it, and took out huge ceramic demi jones. With difficulties walked with it back behind the counter, and carefully placed next to himself. “Or would you like Wilder?” He asked Togorian while taking deep breaths.
“Hmm,” was the acknowledgement she got back. Foxen was content to let his love be the sociable one present with introductions, instead subtly gesturing towards the Omwati and in a circular encompassing motion at the children. Then he put a fist to his own chest, mine, pointed sharply at Zae again, and nodded, then shrugged.
“Wilder,” the Togorian replied without hesitation. “Wilder Cortyg is one of my favorite aspects of Wookie culture,” he tapped his chestplate with both hands, “it’s hard to find anything like it to fit my consititution.” The Fist gave a toothy grin.
Shistavanen without hesitation took a differently looking cup from under the counter. “For the special drink, special cup!” He said and lifted with struggle demi jones. The liquid of the Wilder started to drop slowly, and the shadow of the held container, made the bone made cup to glow. “It is made from Ludos bone, which is sometimes glowing, because of the creature’s nature.” He finished pouring the drink, and passed it to Rajhin. “Not many of them are around - just one colony. Recently we found the body of the lead of it - it was very old, and experienced, so having cups from it is an honor.” He finished the story, because he learnt from the movie that good bartenders always knew good stories for the customers.
Rajhin took the cup with a gracious headbow, “I shall strive to be worthy of such an honor.” He took a sip of the Cortyg, “A FINE VINTAGE!”
His fur had gone completely grey during the initial shock of the sudden festivities. Syi’ already wasn’t a social individual while his scamp of a droid had already been long gone at the invitation to “sure go ahead and go scan the walking death animal” all while beeping and trilling its binary. Syi’ had dropped on all fours with a back arched and ears low against his body as he looked all round at what went on. He reached out toward B-70 to try and pull him back with the Force but he could not quite concentrate and so instead the little bugger beamed a red light all around the Rancor Candy. Its head tilting and gyrating in its excitement, moving around and careful to keep a respectful distance before such scan was done with a complete rotation of its head in jubilant expression of getting to do what the little droid wanted.
The Kushiban’s fur faded back to its original color soon, he stood up with an exasperated sigh, tugging at the robe sitting on his shoulders and ears straight back up. Tort had looked at him and urged the invite to come along and reluctantly he did. He sauntered along just as B-70 was part running part skipping along back a beepin’. “Yeah yeah…” Syido said in response to the BD unit when it stood there for a second with excitedly tapping feet and raised up and down while continuing to chitter in its binary chirps, detailing every exhausting detail it saw on a Rancor. He only shook his head and gave a chuckle, better a reckless scholar than a malicious slicer. Problem was the little scamp was both… depending on the mood.
“Now behave, I don’t want you wandering off.” Syido said aloud to the Droid as it jumped up on his back and beeped. “I mean it.”
Syido casually looked along and wrinkled his nose a little and then gave it a twitch. He appreciated many of the foods there were present, he just hoped for something simple for his sensitive palate. In a hop, he sprang up on a stool at the bar. With a wave he’d calmly get attention of someone. “A Water over here, if you please?” he called out, dropping his ears again with the ‘bwoop’ from B-70
The droid on his back poked its head up over his shoulder. ‘Bwoo? Trill Tete Woop!’
“I don’t drink.” He replied to the droid when it said quite plainly “Water? Get something stronger”
‘Bwooo.’
Young Bartender turned around to the Sydio and with a smile offered. “Water is not a problem at all. Would you like a natural Crystal Lake? Maybe the simple but full of natural components Streaming River, or my favorite - the Purified Cave filtrate and collected in the nearby mountain from Cave of Fangs?“
He took three different bottles - first wooden one with beautifully incorporated drawings of the river and jungle with Jotaz sleeping at the coast. Second the ceramic one with a panoramic lake and Rono drinking water from it, and as the last bottle shaped from hollow rock with Arqet standing in the middle of the Cave entrance. Young Monk followed it with a very small metal flask “And here is some oil for the droid. We were suggested to order some.” He winked at the small droid. <@217809834383245314>
Teon’s response pulled a laugh from Sev, a sound that rattled from his chest. He put his hand down and relaxed against the counter, seemingly unaffected by his handshake being turned down. This one was cheeky… His dumb pretty boy routine wouldn’t work this time. Which was honestly a relief.
“No, no, I have no plans of being arrested by the Patriarch of Clan Armis again. Wulfram is a good man, but intimidating as the hells for sure.” The humor in his tone was genuine
“An unfortunate misunderstanding, that. I’m glad we worked it out.”
Silver eyes never left Teon, the smile never left his face, but he was keenly aware of the happenings around him. From the eyes on Teon to the helmet sitting close to him, he was aware he might not be the only information collector here.
Nora appreciated the craftsmanship of the bone cup, turning it in her hands before taking another sip of the Cassandran Brandy. The unique flavor danced on her palate, and she couldn’t help but be impressed by the attention to detail in the wedding gifts.
As the rhythmic beats of the drums and the melodic tunes of the flutes filled the air, Nora found herself drawn to the musical display. The combination of sounds created a serene yet lively atmosphere, adding a layer of enchantment to the celebration. She swayed slightly to the music, her long blue hair cascading around her as she embraced the moment.
Archian’s gesture with the Happabore ribs brought a grin to Nora’s face. The honey-glazed aroma wafted towards her, tempting her taste buds. She picked up a rib, savoring the delectable flavor. The meat was succulent, the glaze adding a perfect touch of sweetness. Nora nodded appreciatively at Archian, acknowledging the culinary delight.
Amidst the festivities, the subtle rumble under the counter caught Nora’s attention. She turned her gaze to the Mandalorian helmet, the red light reflecting a sense of focus. Curiosity flickered in her emerald eyes as she wondered about the story behind the mysterious observer.
Lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of the celebration, Nora felt a sense of connection to the community. It was a stark contrast to the isolation she had experienced after her betrayal on Zeltros. Here, in the midst of Shistavanen rituals and hospitality, she found a momentary reprieve from the shadows that lingered in her past.
<@571544963607822336>
Teon nodded. “He can be very intimidating,” he admitted while running his fingers along the bone cup. “But he grows on you.”
Another sip of his drink punctuated their conversation and served as a convenient way to transition to a new topic. “So, what brings you to this Shistavanen wedding? Friend of the family?”
At the road directed to the rocky mountains appeared a small black shape, spreading mass of the dust. It grew bigger, bigger and bigger until it started to show is true colors - the Kushiban, running at full speed into the direction of the village.
Guards at the walls only looked with a smile at it, Lollipop, which was full of mead, only opened its one predatory eye to spot passing by shape of the mountain, with another small creature at the top of it. Guards picked up the trampoos from their sides, and slowly lifted them to their mouths. Kushiban stopped breathing heavily next to the bar, letting Nuna jump off from it. Porg didn’t wait a second, and ran to meet the bipedal creature halfway to the meeting point in front of the Temple. Tajga and Aksel turned around with excitement for what was coming. When Nuna touched and squealed at the Porg, Avian immediately jumped into the sky, and flu into the direction of the Monastery’s Bell. It activated its rocket backpack and with full force hit the heart of the bell, making a deep loud, almost ancient sounding signal. At the same time Guards played at their trampoo with a long, lasting and reaching to everyone’s hearts cheerful melody. Tajga quickly tapped at the datapad, and a voice from the speaker said. “Please taking your drinks and food to the chairs and ambient, the Groom and Bride are on their way, and will be arriving soon.”
Tort straightened himself with a crack in his shoulders. “The time has come, let’s see how my brother will manage his nerves and Wife To Be tonight.” He said from behind the Foxen, and made small steps toward the ornamental bone lifted ambient with sculptures of the Rancors at each side. Archian put away his kitchen tools, washed hands in the water and followed Tort, looking carefully at the wiggling toes Monk with mead - he shook his head at the Elderly with disapproval, showing him to wait.
With Aksel having signalled to Flyndt, the Omwati turned from introductions with Zae to look to the boy.
“Hoo? Oh, food. Are hungry?” Then, repeating with his hands and a light peach flush, determined, Hungry?
Food! Aksel replied with big motions, and tugged on his hand. Foxen, standing behind them, chuckled a raspy thing.
Tummy rumbly, Aksel? O.K. Let’s go. Lead the way! he encouraged, and watched as the pup bounced in place before his excitement overcame him and he took off running, releasing Flyndt.
- The Omwati was mildly polite enough to catch himself as they all started walking away, turning to call over his shoulder to Zae, who seemed out of place. “Hoo, come, eat? There is food,” he advised, and then turned back. Tajga trotted alongside, though she seemed more focused on welcoming various guests with her datapad as well as Tort did.
Foxen held out a hand at his side, palm up, fingers partially curled. Flyndt quickly stepped to rejoin him and placed his own bare one in it, palms pressing together. A thick, scarred black thumb brushed over the tattoo as if unable to do anything else. Sunset eyes glanced up and met expectant red already staring at him, emotion open on the Nautolan’s face that was almost too much to name. It was a look that said home, and Known, and seemed it should have heralded a kiss already.
He felt his cheeks flush again, swallowed, and smiled back.
Foxen bent towards him.
And then Tort made his call, about brother and nerves, and there were instruments playing and Tajga’s datapad speaking.
Right, they needed to actually do the wedding event. Right, yes. Guests.
Flyndt coughed, and Foxen groaned. Knowing that particular sound, he squeezed the hybrid’s hand, gesturing, Later, promise. Food? Sit?
Confirm, Foxen replied, and they quickly gathered something to eat with Aksel close at hand, then followed the young one to a spot he would want to sit. It was right near the front.
This is surreal, Foxen commented once they were settled, him picking at food while Aksel ate heartily. Last wedding I was at was Minnie’s. Thought the next would be Jax.
<@244244400488710155> <@571544963607822336> <@216702440140046336>
While Aksel was eating delicious food from Foxen and Tajga who was sitting next to Flyndt, updating the lightning system of the village, Monks with instruments took their positions at the wooden platform in front of Monastery. Suddenly Guards at the walls made a long, loud, lasting sound from their trampoo. The huge wave of the dust had lifted from the road to the mountains. Monks started to play very lively song, vibrating with rhythm, which made everyone’s hearts galloping.
Chariot was getting closer with two characters standing inside of it, pulled with great strength by two rock look-alike creatures. First, it could be noticed that the whole of the machine was decorated with green leaves, green grass and green glowing gloom from the mushrooms spread at the side and front of it. Secondly two riders traveling were wearing two different colors of the clothes.
Holding the yarns attached to the creatures was Mymir wearing purple textiles - with purple bones attached to it. The bone ribcage was used as the fully covering head helmet. The former bone of the wings were covering the sleeves, and shoulder plates covering the abdominal. The cleavage bones attached go the shoulder plates to their sides imitating the ears, and herbivore looking skull hanging at the front from his chest - all of looking similar to the wolf’s head. The bottom edge of the robe was consistent with the purple teeth all around the waist. The purple trousers were covered with long ribs around, ending above the bare Shistavanen paws.
Next to him Clar was standing in the blue wedding dress, made of the soft Bantha fur. At her shoulders were attached two blue crystals - one at each side, which were discovered deep in the Cave of Fangs. At the top of the head was a blue necklace starting from the crystals, with the head of the crystal snake staring between her ears. The bottom of it was “tangled” at the sides of her head, ending with lines of small crystals spreading down her chest, just above the crystal that looked like Rancor’s head at her abdomen. From her both sleeves, going through behind her back were miniature crystals, connected in lines, making blue wings at her back. The bottom of the dress was made from the long narrow pieces of crystal attached to the waist line down, which were making waves with each of her moves.
The rocky creatures which were pulling the chariot, had worn green robes made from leaves to contrast with their gray skin and red eyes. They had additional green spikes made from ceramics alongside the spine, with blue collars around their necks. Arqets were moving fast, and reached the Village Wall very quickly. Lollipop was aware of two predators coming, slightly back of the Candy’s direction who showed up from around the corner to stare eye to eye against the second Apex predators in the area. Bubblegum happily ran and followed the chariot to inside of the village When Bride and Groom stopped at the front of the platform both Mymir and Clar looked very happy to see familiar faces from Arcona, but also higher rank persona from Dark Council and other guests.
The Arqets roared when stopped in front of everyone, but also a tiny child size Arqet in its own similar to parents costume jumped up from between Mymir and Clar supporting itself with front legs at the front of the Chariot, squeaking from happiness.
‘This is surreal..’
Flyndt looked up from the bit of meat he snagged from the hybrid’s plate, having wordlessly opted to pick from one plate with the man. A small trill of a ‘hmm?’
‘Last wedding…was Minnie’s. Thought the next would be Jax…’
Oh.
The Omwati slowed in his chewing, naturally reflecting on like ceremonies he’s experienced in the past. When one took another as Ber. Was there any he had been hopeful for? Should have been looked forward to? His dark feathered brow furrowed slightly at the path that thinking led.
“Ah, hoo,” he cleared his throat after swallowing, and glanced back over. “I…did not know Minnie–”
Instruments and horns bellowed, harkening thundering hooves. Flyndt turned slowly to catch the progression – and froze. Arqets.
And a bride and groom.
But Arqets, and the memory of being bodily tackled midair by one. Flyndt shifted in his seat and tried to focus solely on the couple in question today with mixed results.
Red eyes occasionally flicked to mind Aksel eating too fast, a stray nudge of hand redirecting the excitable six year old or wiping at his snout, old but still expert gestures, familiar with the tasks. Such it was that Foxen mostly got to watch Flyndt just be, noting which bits he picked from their plate and then chewing on his comments much longer than the morsels.
What was he thinking, that his brow furrowed so?
Was it about Gaile? Their respective brothers? Had Gaile had a partner? He’d never asked. Hrm.
“I…did not know Minnie–”
Oh.
Well.
Shitfrak.
Mistakes were made–
Instruments, horns, bellowing, hooves. Two roars.
The mind remembers. The body knows.
He sees Flyndt turn, but more importantly, sees him still. The shift and clicking swallow in discomfort, a brrt probably unawares.
There was no room for fear then. It simply didn’t exist. Only: protect. Only: love.
In unusual fashion, Foxen set the plate down on the ground in front of their feet, shifting so he could lift his arm and put it over the back of Flyndt’s chair, torso turned and rising up with one knee on the seat, as if half-standing in honor of the couple approaching, when really, he was bodily blocking his partner from the riding creatures. His other hand lifted to cup the Omwati’s cheek.
“Hey,” he mouthed, a whisper completely erased by the music around them. “I’m here.”
Zae managed to sneak away from the group. She was not used to be greeted so quickly when arrived at a new place. By a younger Shista no less. Silently, she made her way to the food but then it got loud.
Really loud.
Her ears flattened to the base of her skull as she turned to watch the massive creatures as the Bride and Groom entered. She felt… more awkward. Should she grab food? Clap? Find a tree to hide in?
Kark. Why did she came here? She usually hunt these beasts. The Shistavanen were why. She wanted to discover more about their culture here.
And she knew she wouldn’t belong here.
Archian came back to the food area, to grab some last meatballs. He spotted the other Shistavanen who hesitated to take any food. “I recommend local Bantha steak, and Happabore Belly - they are full of taste.” He took the dish, plated pieces of both meals and passed it to Zae. “You can take it with you to watch the ceremony. Mymir and Clar will be happy to see that you tried their favorite meals.” He blink to her with his usual broken grim smile.
So funny it was, that in the last few months of being with the Nautolan hybrid’s presence, of learning and experiencing his way of speaking, and of his broken and quiet words that Flyndt found he could at times read the shape of them. As the noise crescendoed around them, those words swallowed by the din, it was clear in his mind the ‘I’m here.’ He exhaled and pressed into the hand on his cheek, his hand rising and gently gripping Foxen’s wrist.
His partner’s movements allowed him to stand and half perch as well, a more comforting position at the moment that also doubled for a quick departure if needed. Taking a breath, he willed himself to watch the progression. A moment passed when Flyndt’s brow slowly furrowed, his eyes watching several bulky Shistavanens with red armbands approach the couple to be wed. It was difficult to say, but friendly intent seemed far from true.
“Foxen,” he directed in a hush whisper with a jut of his chin at the group and a meeting of gazes. Behind the Omwati, Tort too was approaching the couple with a blade. Flyndt abruptly blinked out of sight and seconds later reappeared in front of the burly Shistavanens nearly twice his size, his hand resting on the back of his cloth belt where a single dagger was tucked ‘just in case.’ His old Sentinel trainings kicked into gear.
“Halt! State your intentions.”
For a moment between them it was just that, just them, weathering the storm. A cheek pressing closer, a hand gripping wrist, him an anchor for once.
But then clever wicked endless sunset eyes focused on something else, and the whispered warning redirected the Nautolan’s attention.
Threat.
Locating.
Assessing.
Six targets. Identified: red armbands, aggressive posture, large, muscular, unknown faces, on intercept course to bride and groom.
Object: Tort moving to intercept, hand on knife.
Confirm.
Flyndt has already vanished. Foxen’s hand goes to his corset, undoing a clip at the bottom and pulling out one of the golden-plated steel “bones” in one quick motion. His wrist flicks as he stand and moves, five clinks, five small snaps, and the segmented metal cleanly breaks along thin cuts, forming knives. Beautiful, small throwing knives, a near match for the many others hidden on his person.
His arm chambers, and when the Omwati Sentinel reappears, demand ringing out, the blades fly.
Golden metall feathers halo Flyndt, flashes in the air, and bury between the toes of five of the six Shistavanens as they complete their next step, halted by the Omwati. Expertly placed, they shouldn’t draw blood, unless the idiots are stupid enough to press and carve their own feet.
It is a warning.
Foxen arrived behind his bird, a hulking shadow, his dagger now in hand too.
Bulky Shistavanen who was following Tort far behind at the middle alley, looked at Flyndt who appeared in front of him. “Mountain needs blood. Fresh blood, and they are blue - the excellent choice for sacrifice.” He widely smiled, showing off his sharp teeth, towering and lowering his head over Omwati, spreading air from his nostrils at him. But that stopped quickly as it started. Postures of the other five Shistavanen suddenly froze in place, feeling sharp blades of the knives between their toes. They looked at the central Shista, for his decision. The main, most muscular, black Shistavanen looked at Flyndt, then at Foxen, after somewhere lower between them. “Not worth it.” He split from angriness, showed with his head to retreat, and all of them moved to the table full of food.
“Thank you for avoiding the bloodshed. I was ready to take his stomach out.” Old, brown Tort said from behind Flyndt. Elderly Shistavanen unexpectedly quickly sniffed the ground, where previously red banded Shista was standing. “Red Mountain. Of course it must be them.” He said very seriously, but then his face calmed down. “Let’s get back to celebrating, the main event is starting.” Flyndt could see only top of the brown head disappearing in the crowd.
<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>
“Should we not–” Flyndt cut off his question as the old man lumbered away. He turned to Foxen, his hand dropping from the small of his back and straightening the red wrap around his torso. “I think we should inform guards, to watch and move closer in case farther conflict.”
Confirm, Foxen gestured, and then a check as his expression bled soft again from EmptyMissionThreat, O.K.? You were amazing.
They were, after all, now closer to the arqets, and there had been a challenge.
As Flyndt said those words, somewhere at front Tort’s stick popped up from the crowd and made three circles above it in the air. The guards at the walls immediately moved closer to the center of the village, and Porg sneaked behind the platform.
“You have very successful and innovative warriors.” Tort said, appearing next to Rajhin. “They prevented a bloodshed between two, the most competitive legacies.” He looked seriously at Mymir and Clar walking together to the platform, but then came back to his usual elderly, naive be. “I better join my brother, there won’t be a ceremony without Best Man, he he, but before that…” Tort started to look for something between his robes. “Ahhha! Here it is!” He took out an ornamental, made from Great Oopik’s bone flute. “Please accept this gift from our Monks. And…” He hesitated, but reached again to his clothes, taking old, large Ronto’s bone made smoking pipe. “This pipe. Monks really wanted you to have it.” He looked up to see the reaction of the guest. <@185939710005215232>
Rajhin took the pipe with a slight bow. “You honor me, this is exquisite craftsmanship.” He took a moment to look around the venue at the various Brotherhood members in attendance. “Our young warriors never cease to impress me, they are the lifeblood and strength of the Brotherhood.”
Flyndt watched as the guards started to move in, nodding once and exhaling a sigh. His gaze flicked back to Foxen and he blinked, a small trill at the praise.
“Oh? O.K, hoo. Was nothing,” he shrugged, “just acting as needed.”
The Omwati smiled lightly and looked around. It was then that he noticed the closeness of the Arqets. Despite the half step away from them and closer to the Nautolan, Flyndt did seem more collected at the moment. The adrenaline of the past couple minutes had certainly distracted from the initial trigger. He looked at their seats where the two kids still sat and their plate rested on the ground. Oh, that is where it went.
“Do want sit? I can get us new food if need?”
Meanwhile, between the rows of seats, a roughed up, partially refurbished L0-LA wandered. Each new thing Mal'nies came up on grabbed her with such curiosity, half of those items being the feet and shoes of guests. Her optic lens zooming in and out in focus before she would hop along to the next thing.
Zae blinked as another Shistavanen had passed her a plate, that she didn’t pick herself, with the meat. Though she always does love bantha steak. Who can turn that down. She can feel her mouth was practically watering. Mymir and Clar. Right. Okay.
She gave him a nod in thanks as she took the plate and added a few more meats on top of it. Not long after, she found a table and sat down before she started to eat.
Foxen was relieved to see the Omwati’s smile return, and even the scare to seem gone.
O.K.
He shook his head at the question, pausing to pick the five golden knives out of the ground lest anyone walk over them or anything else of an abomination to basic arms safety. The whole boning/knife combo only went one way, so he’d have to replace that piece of the corset later, but it still seemed to be structurally sound on the secondary steel bone, at least for now. He pressed at it, testing, and yes. Fine for now. He’d have to take it off if they did anything more rigorous.
No need to waste, he finally replied about the food. Not going to be hurt by sitting on ground. Then he offered his hand, as if to escort his partner back to their seats for the ceremony itself, but really, he just wanted to hold on.
Tort turned around, checking on Bride and Groom. He spotted the Old Monk wiggling his toes with a hood covering his face. “Before I go. Monks gave this for you as well, they said it is strong stuff.” He passed a small pack to Rajhin, and with quick movement of the stick directed with hurry in the direction of the Old Monk. <@185939710005215232>
Mymir and Clar were just going to step at the small steps to the platform when hooded Old Monk with Wiggle Toes stopped them. Mymir was familiar with him, but distrust could be only spotted at his face. Monk was sticky from the mead, covered with dried leaves, over green tunic. He was holding the pipe with smoke coming out from it, and his toes were uncontrollably wiggling - but his eyes were focused, serious and ready for anything that would come. He found a small piece of paper within his robes and passed it to Bride and Groom. Mymir took it suspiciously, but after having a look at it, brightened up and showed it to Clar. They both hugged each other. Another Monk who was supposed to minister the ceremony, was visibly annoyed at the Wiggly One for interruption, he made his way to Mymir and when glanced at the paper - his jaw dropped, and other two Monks had to catch him from behind before he almost collapsed at the floor. Mymir and Clar nodded to the Wiggly Toes Monk who quickly disappeared around the corner of the Monastery.
Flyndt watched as Foxen examined his corset, lingering. He drew his gaze away as the man signed again and nodded. ‘O.K.’ He smiled at the offered hand and laced his fingers in with his. The pair meandered back to their seats and recovered the abandoned food, cooler now but still delicious. As Flyndt nibbles on some of the meat, he mused idly and curiously.
“What was Minnow’s wedding like?” He imagined it was different than the current proceedings which seemed unique to the culture of this Shistavanen moon.
Zae watched the couple while tearing a piece of meat. It was good. Not bad at all. Her ears slightly tilted back at the groom’s reaction to seeing a piece of paper.
Heh. Wonder if she’s pregnant. Zae mused to herself as she took another bite into the meat.
Foxen, having visually checked on Aksel and Tajga, paused with a bite in his mouth, and recalled the memories. With mild regret – but always happiness, to speak to his dream – he took the arm he had settled around the back of Flyndt’s chair and began explaining.
Very Mandalorian, as they both were raised in the Erinos. Everyone in their armor. They fought me together for…not permission. Symbolic. All their battles together, at each other’s sides, from now on. Typical to fight either family of one of them or the strongest warrior in the clan. Minnie wanted to be… Very traditional. At least for the ceremony. He chuffed, smiling. 3.2 seconds after vows, she threw off her helmet and started yelling about PARTY PEOPLE. Changed outfits three times through the rest. I made the food. We danced. It was loud. Drinks, spars, food, laughter, yelling. Jax howled at the moon. She was so happy.
Tajga noticed what was happening, and quickly walked, and climbed at the platform, taking place at the Clar side, making it symmetric to the Tort’s position next to Mymir.
The Monk’s Orchestra started to play instruments and filled up the village even with more music.
The Old Monk stepped between Bride and Groom. “Well. It is happening.” He said with smile. “These two who were always entertaining us with their arguments, debates about their lifestyles and throwing rocks and pans at each other, are finally tightening the knot.” He said full of pride. “Mymir from Sirh accompanied by his brother Tort from Sirth, the head of the Palcebo village, and Clar from Vrenth accompanied by Tajga from Sirth will become an official married couple.” He said with a sincere laugh. “Please remove your headcounts.” He asked both Shistavanen. Mymir smoothly took off his bone helmet, and passed to Tort - at the same time Clar took off her crystal snake diadem with chains and gave it to standing beside her Tajga.
It was nice to be able to talk silently when others were making noise, but this wasn’t one of those times to split attention. Foxen’s hands fell still, and he turned to pay at least some respect to the couple and their villages – at least, to Tajga in the ceremony – putting his arm back over Flyndt’s chair and loosely present over the Omwati’s shoulders.
And because it was a wedding they were attending together, where Flyndt looked so breathtaking, and smiled, and signed to children, he permitted himself to indulge, just the smallest bit: ≤0.01%, surely. He allowed the thought: I wish… as they watched the ceremony take place. Not to imagine standing in different places, on some different planet, with different faces; not to imagine outfits, robes of some kind and feathers if he were so lucky, incense perhaps, burned from plants he didn’t need to grow poor samples of in a box; of soft promises and lifted chin…
Not that, no.
But this much. The brief second of longing.
Moisture rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with his free hand.
Despite the animals, a pretty good wedding.
“As Clar and Mymir both agreed that the village will finish with the tradition of blood sacrifices…” A loud “booo” came from bulky Shistavanens who attempted attack earlier. “… but also to rebuild the Blood Teeth Monastery to reach with the friendly hand to the Red Mountain village, alongside building a new orphanage next to it, as they probably won’t be able to consume marriage.” He said happily. The wedding went well with some more ships arriving from Uvena Prime.