Session export: Hooty and the Horns Three

Karran struggled to remember the last time he was in this much pain.

That was a lie. He could remember, but the circumstances were different. He remembered waking up in a hospital bed, covered in burns and bandages. He remembered getting gored by a Terentatek. He remembered fighting Marick on some backwater dustball of a planet. The finishing blow. A vertical slash along his back, missing his spinal column by millimeters. He remembered his first night out with Arcona and being beaten to a pulp by Skar.

But this was special. It wasn’t simply the broken leg, but each and every cut and stab. They had been perfect. Precise. They had been focused on specific nerve clusters not intended to kill, but to maximize pain. Foxen had been trying to force a quick end to the fight.

And Diy had been…less than pleased upon her arrival back at the homestead. He had not yet worked up the motivation to ascend the steps into the house, so he’d waited outside in the garden.

At first she thought he’d been attacked. Perhaps retaliation for his work with the Lotus and their safe house network. Certain folks didn’t take kindly to some people disappearing.

But he had explained and she seemed more at ease. She knew who he was and how he interacted with the world. Everything was conflict. The entire galaxy could be boiled down to conflict.

She had tried to force him to rest, and he agreed that first night. But the next morning, the faux-Zelosian found him hobbling around the kitchen, making breakfast. She’d scolded him and ordered him to sit, which he did…for a minute. But Karran was never one to sit still. While her back was turned, he did his best to sneak away to begin his morning calisthenics.

Just the upper body, today. Let the leg rest.

Time passed. His leg began to mend. He could nearly walk on it with no limp.

He would never admit it, but Diy’s efforts to keep him immobile helped immensely. Nothing overly strenuous. But just tempting enough to not want to leave.

She was remarkable. It was all to easy to lose track of the time and allow his leg to heal.

But over time, bones would mend, pain would fade. Karran always bounced back. The Force was useful in that way.

This would mark the second time that Bril Teg Arga had visited the planet Selen. The first occurred a few weeks prior to his first visit to the Shadow Academy on Arx as a way to get some much-needed relaxation after winning another fight in the Belkada, the underground fighting ring on Canto Bight. In the weeks following his matriculation at the Academy and his first mission for Clan Plagueis, he had given much thought to that first visit; moreover, his mind kept returning to one person in particular whom he’d met during his time there: Melissa Luxor. He’d encountered the Echani woman not long after his arrival in Estle City and, most perplexingly, learned that she somehow already knew who he was despite having never met him before. She explained that the Force had given her visions of him, and of the great suffering he would endure sometime in the future. Although Bril believed that the Force had shown her something regarding his future, he didn’t take her warnings too seriously at the time. After all, he was a disciple of the Living Force - to the here and now, and while he was aware of past examples of the Cosmic Force bestowing some of its children with the gift of premonitions, he knew enough to know that those premonitions were often vague and self-fulfilling. Now, on the eve of a what will be a week since his venture to Kenari on the orders of the Dread Lord herself, he wished he had heeded Melissa’s exhortations.

-

Eager to prove himself and eager to prove that Tahiri was right about his potential, he’d accepted the mission without question. And he succeeded in helping secure the Ark, for a time. But the mission had ended in disaster. The only thing that could be construed as a positive was that Bril and TuQ’uan Varick di Plagia managed to escape with their lives. Yet, what was the cost? Bril eyes shifted to his left arm and leg, both of which were bandaged. His abdomen was as well, but those bandages were hidden by his robes. Regular bacta treatments combined with his own Force healing had allowed him to recover from his injuries in record time. The bandages were completely unnecessary, but he’d decided to keep them as a reminder to himself of what happened to him … of what he’d allowed to happen to him. He burned inside thinking of it. If only he’d listened to her, maybe, things could’ve turned out differently. Stupid.

Only when his transport cruiser arrived in port, and he spotted a certain Mirialan man whom he’d become friends with weeks prior, did his thoughts return to the present. It was genuinely good to see him, and to have an opportunity to relax after what had felt like ages.

So, this was how he carried himself. It was Bril’s first time seeing Ruka outside of the Academy, and he was a little surprised to see the armed guards who hung back with a mere gesture from the Mirialan.

Bril met him with a firm grip of the forearm and pressed his forehead to his. “The feeling is mutual, my friend,” he said before gesturing to his armed escort, “Quite the entourage you have here. Perks of the job, then?”

Ruka would notice the Zabrak’s change of clothes, which were finely crafted robes similar to those worn by Jedi in centuries past, though his were primarily dark grey and gold rather than the traditional white and gold. He also had a new saber that matched his attire. His eyes didn’t stay on his friend for long; instead, he frequently scanned their surroundings whenever he noticed movement. “How have the weeks treated you, Ruka?”

Bril certainly understood what it was like to have to play a role that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He’d grown fond of some people in his Clan, particularly his master, Nora, and TuQ'uan. And there was Tahiri, of course. Despite the bonds that were beginning to form, he had very quickly realized that his role as a Plagueian required him to fill a particular role that he wasn’t used to filling. He was a Sith, after all, and his superiors expected him to act as such. That’s what his master had made abundantly clear to him during their last mission following the brief feud with Taldryan. This is what happens when you think yourself more clever than you actually are. The words hadn’t left his mind since that day - a clear warning to him that his predilection for mercy was unbecoming of a Plagueian … for a Sith.

Rambling again. He caught himself before he let his thoughts run any further, then nodded in agreement with Ruka’s assessment. “Sometimes, it’s better to accept things as they are and hope that we can make the best out of them in the meantime. I’m sure you have and will continue to do good with this position you have. Even if the escort is a little excessive.” A brief smile and pat on the shoulder were enough to convey the Zabrak’s sincerity.

Of course, he’d heard about his activities in the feud. It hadn’t crossed his mind until now, but it made sense that the leadership of the various clans had some idea of what occurred elsewhere in the Brotherhood, especially when it involved the temporary resumption of hostilities between clans. Bril wondered how much of the specifics he knew. “Let’s hope it never comes to that,” he waved the thought of Arcona and Plagueis battling away.

-

“I figured our survival and eventual victory was worth commemorating in some way,” he explained while smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes, “Plus, I got a promotion. I’ve always admired the fashion sense of High Republic Jedi, so it felt appropriate. Earned me more than a few odd looks, though.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that you were married. I don’t know too much about the ins and outs of it, but I like to think I’ve developed a bit of an eye for it by now.” Winning in Shockboxing matches didn’t pay as much as he’d like but the prestige of the job allowed him to occasionally rub elbows with more high-class fans of the sport.

Folding his arms behind his back, Bril turned to the spaceport in search of the vehicle they’d be boarding. “I was surprised, as well,” he admitted, “I think my connections with important figures in the clan have helped with that. Being a Quaestor’s most promising student has to amount to something, right?”

“Vagri esqayn ceelojtehvimi,” Bril slowly repeated the words to himself, paying particular attention to correctly mimicking the way Ruka pronounced each syllable, “I like that.”

He gave the Mirialan a knowing look, figuring that his advice was coming from personal experience. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Ruka. Enough of all this serious talk, though. Let’s enjoy ourselves while we can.” Tucking his hands behind his head, the Plagueian whistled when he noticed the shuttle. It was even more impressive inside and felt more lived-in than the ship’s comparatively nondescript exterior.

“Siblings, children?” he inquired, pointing to some of the paintings that appeared more juvenile in design. “They resemble the kind of paintings my siblings and I would draw in the Singing Caves back on Iridonia.” A subdued laugh left his lips as he touched his hand to the framed drawing and traced along its edges. “It seems like such a long time ago, despite my age.”

Learning about Ruka’s family warmed Bril’s heart. He was glad that he seemed to value family just as he did. When he turned his attention to his friends and apprentices, Bril nodded in recognition of Sera’s name. Although he hadn’t met her, he recalled hearing her mentioned when he first met Ruka, Karran, and Sivall at the Academy. “It seems like you all are a tight bunch. Trust me, I know the significance of the becoming blood-bound. We don’t take that kind of thing lightly, so you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I’m actually the youngest,” explained Bril, tilting his head a bit. “My sister, Pa'ren'i, is the oldest. She’s a journalist. My brother Okefi is helping to expand the infrastructure for tourism back on Iridonia. I’m the only one of the bunch who’s Force sensitive and I met Tahiri when I was 12, so it always feels like our time together as kids was a lot shorter than it was.” He supposed that going through the harsh training of a Sith had something to do with that.

“A doctor and a politician? Impressive.”

Bril accepted the offer and strapped into the copilot’s chair. He had never sat in the cockpit of a starship before, and that showed in the enthusiasm with which he scanned the cockpit’s interior. There were so many different buttons, dials and screens. How could anyone keep track of it all? Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about any of it.

“I am new to the Brotherhood. Tahiri and I first met while my siblings and I were accompanying our parents on an expedition. They’re both archaeologists, so we ended up running into her one day while they were conducting research. Well, technically she found me when I got separated from Pa'ren'i and Okefi. Saved me, too,” he explained, “After that, she became something like a Sith godmother, if you will. She’d visit from time-to-time, point my parents to interesting ruins they may want to investigate, and train me whenever she had time.”

He shook his head, “I’m on my own path, with the Ancestors and the Living Force there to help me along the way. So, I’m not sure what that makes me. But it’s not a Sith. I guess it does sound strange, though, now that I think about it: having a Sith godmother and teacher without being one myself.”

Ruka’s earned a chuckle from the Zabrak, “I don’t have any experience with piloting starships. You’d be better off letting a Porg fly us to our destination.”

After thinking about it for a second, he shook his head. “Maybe not, actually. The poor little creatures can’t help but to invite disaster upon themselves.”

“What was that?” he tilted his head, unable to make sense of what Ruka said after he mentioned the odd little avians. It was hard not to notice how uncomfortable he looked after Bril had brought them up; was he afraid of them? Best not pry lest he drudge up more memories for the man. “Actually, nevermind. I couldn’t imagine building something like this. I’d have a much better chance of taking it apart than putting one together,” he admitted, scanning the cockpit’s interior while imagining all the work it must have taken to assemble it. It must have taken a lot of different minds to see it to completion, as well. “I wouldn’t mind learning to fly, though. I may take you up on that offer one of these days.”

Towering mountains and vast sheets of green seized the Zabrak’s attention and encouraged him to lean forward to get a better look at them as they passed. Dense, tangled jungles such as these didn’t exist on Iridonia due to its arid landscape. If one did find large collections of vegetation, it was in the form of grasslands that had evolved to survive on the planet’s harsh landscape. “How beautiful,” he said as they passed the jungles, “Just imagine the hunts you could go on there. I wonder if Karran has ever thought about doing that.”

“And you have such beautiful oceans here. Most water sources above ground back home are too hazardous to enjoy. But we do have many aquifers below the planet’s surface that provide us with fresh water. That’s why our tribes have historically formed their societies underground.”

Bril didn’t know much about Kiast, but he was familiar with inequality. It was one of his grandfather’s primary motivations for becoming involved in Iridonian politics. The egalitarian ways of most Zabrak tribes were often forgotten by the city dwellers, and that had created a stark contrast in the lives of those who lived in the city and those who remained as hunter-gatherers and agrarians. “I’m not familiar with the Vatali. Who are they?” he asked.

Nobility. Now, that was a concept that Bril couldn’t bring himself to understand. The closest thing that he had to compare to it was the chief of a tribe back home, the social structure of Iridonian tribes didn’t exist as a rigid hierarchy. The chief was considered a leader of their people, but he wasn’t above them in any real sense; they simply occupied a different role with different responsibilities, but every person was equal and played an important role in maintaining the tribe.

“That all sounds … complicated,” he admitted, “I think taking on the marks of your husband’s family is beautiful, though. What better way to signify the union of two families? Your ancestors became his, and his yours.”

It made him wonder if he’d ever settle down, one day. Although he still had so much he wanted to accomplish during his time in the Brotherhood, he wouldn’t mind finding a wife one day. But he’d have to live to see it. If his experience on Kenari taught him anything, it was that he was just as vulnerable as anyone else, and that he’d be wise to prepare more for his future endeavors.

His thoughts shifted to the Echani woman whom he’d met more than a month prior, and their unusual, yet serendipitous meeting. If he could find one silver lining in all the events surrounding Clan Plagueis’ hunt for the Ark, it was her. “Hey, I forgot to mention when we first met, but we have a mutual friend. Melissa mentioned you to me when we ran into each other during my first visit to Selen. Have you seen her, recently?”

Ruka’s chuckle and subsequent look caught Bril off guard, and he quickly averted his gaze. What was so funny about what he said, anyway? He kept his eyes on the passing scenery as they approached their destination, careful not to let any significant tell of his emotions slip on his face or through the Force while he listened to Ruka’s update on Melissa. It was nice to hear that she’d been adjusting to this new life and that Ruka had been training her in the use of her Force abilities.

“She mentioned that to you, huh?” he asked, referencing the vision she’d had of his battle on Kenari. A hand rubbed the back of his neck while he contemplated what to say. When Ruka turned in his seat to face him, Bril was hit with a powerful presence in the Force that filled the cockpit. It was as if he’d fallen into the depths of an ocean with little warning, and the suddenness of it made him grip the side of his seat.

“I…” he looked away, searching for the right words. Ruka had been amiable thus far but now he understood why he was a proconsul. You didn’t reach that position without being powerful, and he was offering the young Zabrak just a glimpse of that to convey how serious he was. Bril understood his message clearly. “I enjoyed our time together, and it seems rude not to pay her a visit while I’m here. She was the first person I met here, after all.” He wondered how much of their first meeting she had shared with him.

His lips curved into a curt smile when he heard that she had worried about him, its brevity telling as much a story as the darkened expression on his face. “Of course I will,” he answered emphatically, rising to his feet to meet Ruka’s gaze on somewhat equal footing … as equal as the knight could hope to be with his Mirialan senior. “Why would I ever give her reason to blame herself for whatever fate befalls me?” He couldn’t conceive of doing such a thing to anyone, let alone a friend.

After that moment of tension dissolved, Bril fell in line behind Ruka as they exited the ship, giving his escort a thankful nod when he passed. “That sounds good to me. I’m looking forward to seeing what food will be prepared. Where to first?”

Karran rolled out of bed dressed in the same way he usually slept. No shirt with comfortable loose-fitting, flowing pants.

He did not need a clock to know he had overslept. The sun being up was enough to tell him that. A noise from the kitchen told him that Diy was also awake. The smell of fresh caf confirmed it.

He stood and winced at the twinge in his leg. He could go without the splint now, but it was still stiff and uncomfortable. An unfortunate result of being practically bedridden for the last several weeks. Half-speed workout sessions, the length of the workouts had been cut in half as well. He had suddenly found himself with two extra hours every day to fill, with orders to not over-exert himself.

He stepped behind a privacy screen to change into his day clothes.

“Where do ya think yer goin’ Horns?”

The Zabrak froze behind the screen, caught with his pants literally around his ankles. He pulled them up quickly and began to pull on his boots.

“Um…chores? Firewood is low and the garden needs attention.”

Diyrian sighed. “Just don’t overdo it, big guy.”

Karran smiled and stood. He grit his teeth at the weight on his leg. He stepped out from behind the screen and toward the woman, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“Thank you. You are better than I deserve and I worship the ground at your feet.”

He drew out the kiss just to be able to remember the feeling of her curly hair on his cheek.

After breaking off, he straightened up and smiled before heading out the door. Once outside, he breathed in the fresh, quiet air. Today was going to be a nice, peaceful day.

The prospect of trying another culture’s cuisine piqued Bril’s interest. “That sounds great,” he said with an enthusiastic nod, “I’m not the best cook by any means, but I remember a few Zabrak recipes. Maybe, we can share them.”

“The library would be my usual answer, but I think we’ve both spent enough time around books recently. Let’s go with the courtyard.”

The Zabrak knight broke from their conversation when he noticed movement in their surroundings, stiffening in anxious anticipation of the arrival of … someone or something. He relaxed a little when he realized that it was an official, taking a step back when the agent approached and addressed Ruka. Lord Scion, eh? That was one of his titles that he wasn’t familiar with, but he liked the way it sounded. When the attendant moved closer to interpose themselves between Bril and Ruka, he understood the intended message - not that he intended to snoop on the man’s business anyway, but he understood that they were just doing their job.

“Oh, um… Sure, yeah I can do that,” He was caught off guard by the sudden change of plans, but he wouldn’t have any trouble finding something to do in the meantime. “I’ll just need to know where Karran lives, exactly. Or, if you have anything that belongs to him, I should be able to find him with the Force. That would be the more fun of the two options.”

And he hoped he chose the latter.

Bril quirked a brow when Ruka hesitated to give him the little wax shaving. He had expected something like a necklace or a trinket of some sort, but if he said that this held a strong connection to Karran, then he believed him. It would be a little odd, though, working with something this small. But Bril knew what he was capable of.

He nodded to show he had heard Ruka’s warning, and even gave him a thumbs up in the hopes of assuaging any concerns he may have held for him. “Noted. I’ll take it slow. Wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened on Kenari, right?” A forced smile appeared on the Zabrak’s tattooed visage, offering a fleeting glimpse of deeper emotions that stirred beneath the mask he wore for his Mirialan friend - fresh wounds that unlike the ones on his body, hadn’t been tended to.

“There’s no need to apologize. Duty calls and waits for no one,” he waved, grinning, “I’ll catch you later, Lord Scion.”

Once he left, Bril turned to the guard who’d stayed behind with him. “My own guard detail, cool.” The two of them headed out, and Bril pulled up Karran’s location on his datapad so he’d know where to go. Once they were on their way, Bril tucked his hands behind his head, striking up a conversation with his escort. “So, how’s the pay in a gig like this? Any benefits?”

The floorboards beneath socked feet creaked lightly as Diyrian grabbed her mug and shifted to the window she often sat beside doing course work. The homestead was much quieter and peaceful compared to Estle – sometimes too quiet, but that’s what earbuds and music’s for. For right now, her aquamarine eyes followed the behemoth of a man who’s hands painstakingly crafted this home and everything around, went about the yard. She’d be lying if she said the view wasn’t appreciable, despite her concern. And spirits damn it, her stomach was still fluttering after that line he pull before hitting the outdoors.

The faux-Zelosian groaned, not unpleasantly, and took another sip of her caf. She pulled away from the window with a sigh. Setting her cup down, she gathered her curls up and tied them into a top bunch atop her head quickly before picking a fresh cup of the morning brew and making her way towards one of the few guest rooms. Diy knocked gently on the paper thin door, sliding it open and slipping through afterwards. Several short paces across the room, she sat lightly on the edge of a bed, carefully keeping the glass out of bumping distance.

“G'mooornin’ sunshine! Lottie?” She verbally nudged, a warm grin on her face that pushed at the golden line tattooed across her cheeks. “Haven’t yet made some tea up, but gotcha some caf if ya like. How’d you sleep?”

The door opening had started to rouse the Human, but Diyrian’s greeting pulled her fully into bleary consciousness. Brown eyes that gleamed somewhat golden under the gleams of sunlight pushing through the windows turned upward to meet blue-green.

“Mornin’-” A long yawn interrupted Zuza for a few seconds, “mm, caf sounds good. Slept good. Lotta good.”

The Human shifted, pulling her knees up under her to sit up on the bed and stretching her back. She was there to visit Diy, spend a few days out on the homestead and catch up before leaving ‘em all to it.

After a moment of staring into the beam of sunlight and enjoying the aftermath of stretching she turned with a smile toward Diy and joined her on the edge of the bed, “I can get the tea if ya like, or somethin’ else. May as well help while I’m here.”

“Ain’t gonna say no to a hand here,” Diy passed the mug on over and lounged back on her arm, returning the smile.

Despite the both of them based off Selen the past year or so, duties and studies sure didn’t leave as much time to hang out with Zuza as she’d like. She was eager to enjoy the stay.

“If ya want some, feel free. I know Horns out there ain’t gonna take any till this evenin’, but was think’ on makin’ some breakfast – brunch, I guess. Welcome to help with that,” the faux-Zelosian gestured towards the window as if to indicate the Zabrak in question had already headed outside to work on that leg of his. She stood and stretched as well, managing to raise the oversized robe she wore over her tank and shorts off the floor a little bit.

Zuza took a hefty drink from the mug. Caf wasn’t her favourite, but it was hot and was a nice boost in the morning. Good ‘nough.

“Maybe make it a picnic so we can actually convince Karran to sit down for longer than it takes him to stand back up again.” Zuza chuckled. She’d heard enough from Diy to know the complaints. “I’ll put something less pajama-y on and be out in a few.”

The Human took a more measure sip, placed the caf on nightstand and stood, stretching again while she shuffled to the backpack her clothes were stuffed into.

Several thousand meters away, high above the crashing waves and encroaching towards the long stretch of beaches and rocky cliffs of Ussun, the Keeradak flew on. The flaps of its wings carried with it the sound of leathery skin snapping on the wind. After each series of strong beats, the beast would allow its massive frame to glide upon the air effortlessly. For one, the mere forty kilograms clinging to his neck was nothing compared to the heavy Zabrak he was used to.

Not used to riding an animal let alone flying with one, Flyndt found himself holding onto Drakor’s horns – his neck too thick to wrap his arms around. Rough, wrinkly skin pressed to his cheek as air ruffled his pants and through his feathers, silver tail trailing behind him. It brought memories of back on Omwat when his brother tampered with the cargo hauler, they had sped over the open steppes – until the machine broke down and they were the ones verbally throttled.

But this? This was different. He did not have words for it, just like he was unable to describe how it felt to sink oneself into the Force, to be enveloped and embraced by the energy of those living and past.

Sucking in a breath – nearly choking on a swallowed bug – Flyndt sat up with growing confidence and took in the landscape before them. His eyes drew wide in awe, sunset irises flashing in the rising rays of the Dajorra star, vibrant still even through the paler nictitating lids protecting them from the wind. As the pair’s shadow passed from ocean to over land, his gaze drifted from sand to thick forests, the expanse of not-honeycomb shaped buildings in the north yo the far distant castle nestled just above the climbing rings of the city. .

“Dē i sūli…” His whisper was lost beneath both his breath and the wind, and he lost himself in the moment.

A soft screech followed by clicking and a light shake of the Keeradak’s head jostled the Omwati’s focus back. After a quick glance to ensure the shuttle was still following, he leaned to the side as far he dared to go to try and meet Drakor’s eye. The large iris flicked back to him briefly before fixing its gaze back on the trees below. Flyndt sat up and flexed his thighs to stretch higher to peer for, well…he wasn’t sure what. A clearing? Field? Tent or house? A mildly frustrated warble escaped him when he failed to see anything but canopy.

Yet, he trusted that Drakor knew they were close. He just had a feeling. Returning the clicks, Flyndt coo’d in a mix of nerves and determination, hugging closer once more to his companion’s neck. His gut clenched as the Keeradak slowly started circling, lowering with each pass. It was at that point, he finally noticed the homestead as Foxen said Kay-ran described it. Inhaling deeply, he sank into not only Drakor but the Force, willing the light and shadows to blend him into the sky , foliage, and the beast’s brown-gray skin.

Wood creaked and groan when the Keeradak landed within the large roost it preferred, careful not to lower his head too much it seemed, helping Flyndt keep on. After a few seconds, he slid off and carefully balanced on a near by branch…

And scanned the area.

His heart thumped in his chest.

Despite saying he wanted to hello, Flyndt had not settled on how or what exactly he felt he needed to do or say to this Zabrak sort. Observing would do for now, and hoping his cloak covered well enough for him to figure out his next step.

Crack

Wood split beneath the axe. The Zabrak leaned the tool against the stump and stretched. He was glad to be able to get outside and work again, despite the aching in his leg. He would likely need to prop it up tonight when he went in for the evening.

Karran looked up when wingbeats caught his ears. Drakor was returning once again. He hoped that the visit would not precede similar events as the last. But nonetheless, he was happy to see an old friend.

But something was off. They were not alone. His hand went to the lightsaber that rested in its holster at his right thigh and drew it.

“Whoever you are, I do not mind your presence. But I am suspicious of anyone that has something to hide. Reveal yourself and your purpose.”

The odds of two potentially hostile visitors in a single month were slim, but never impossible. It never hurt to be a little cautious.

Flyndt stiffened at the call out. If the Force wasn’t still swathing him at his will, a shock of surprise would have been visible across his face before his brows furrowed in debate. As was the crimson crest atop his head was still raised, literally flagging his location beneath Drakor as he stood and dropped his cloak.

Revealed to Karran was a short dark olive skin individual maybe just above a meter and a half tall, hard to say with Drakor’s mass dwarfing them. Their wardrobe spoke not urban nor tribal in the sense the Zabrak was familiar with. A dark green vest over a tan long sleeve rolled up to the elbows. They seemed to wear wide scarves around their waist and a pair of loose almost lavender pants with a sort of decorative chaps over them.

Sharp eyes glanced from the Zabrak to around the yard as the Omwati searched for any of the animals Foxen had mentioned. Whatever a Reek is, big apparently. Two hounds of sorts. Seeing none, he held up a leather gloved hand to the man below, attempting to communicate passiveness even though the two blades tucked into the small of his back burned holes into it. And descended the tree.

It took the Force user a brief moment to climb down the over thirty meters tall tree, dropping from one branch to the next in a calculated route and only having one near fall to a dead lead in the process. Once settled on the ground, he slowly made his way out of the sea of trunks and into the yard – pausing several meters away.

“Hoo,” he coo’d with a stealing breath. His sunset gaze, however, was firm when met both brown and milky white eyes, “I came to see you,” a pause and a slight puff of the few red feathers not tied back, “Kay-ran?”

Diyrian laughed at the suggestion. Thinking on it though, she nodded with a grin. “That would do it, though. Nothin’ more un-honorable than declinin’ a picnic.”

The faux-Zelosian stuck her tongue out at that briefly at her own jest, following with a nod to leave the human to it. She stepped out, shutting the door behind her. A quick detour to begrudgingly discard the robe on Karran’s bed – what? It was comfy – Diy found her own cup of caf again and between sips, started rummaging through cooking supplies and ingredients.

Karran narrowed his eyes at the Omwati, but still returned the saber to its holster.

“You have found him.”

He strained to remember. Bird. My bird. Your bird.

“Do you know Foxen?”

Zuza swapped into her normal clothes, a basic shirt and shorts. Her dragon tattoo curled proudly up her leg, and she even remembered to take a moment to put moisturising cream on it. She loved mornings planetside. The misty dew from a cold night before being burned away by the rising sun. All the life, animal or people wise, was comforting to hear.

The Mercenary would always return to the sky, but it was refreshing to be in amongst it all.

She scooped up her cup of caf, and gently poked Frond with her toe, smiling down at the Cythraul. He yawned widely.

“Come on pup, I know you’ve been up.”

He looked at her, and she could almost feel the pout.

She managed to stand firm long enough for him to rise to his paws, still too big for him, and lope after her. The pair headed for the kitchen, and Zuza waved to Diy, placing her mug down before claiming a corner of the counter.

Flyndt tracked the movement, following the somewhat familiar cylinder till it left the man’s hands, sunset eyes flicking back up. His lips pursed at the question and brow furrowed, trepidation flashing briefly.

“…yes.”

The Omwati stepped closer a few paces and gave a thoughtful hrm deeper than his lighter voice, echoing the Nautolan in question. He gestured with an open palm to the sky, “I go by Flyndt.”

Karran bowed, then considered for a moment before mirroring the newcomer’s gesture.

“Karran Val'teo. And it would seem you are familiar with Drakor as well.”

Karran lowered his hand and resumed a neutral stance.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I have food to share. I believe my-”

The next word stuck in his throat for a moment, mainly for the simple reason that he could not believe it was a true statement, but also because he was unsure of what word to use.

“-partner has made some caf. It is still fresh and there should be plenty left.”

The striped plumage on his head rose briefly. There was a slight clack of his beak behind the faint frown at the mirrored gesture. It was short lived, falling away as he repeated the man’s name properly to himself, followed by a glance at the Keeradak and an affirmative nod.

Flyndt considered the offer, turning his near unblinking gaze to the structure nearby for a moment on assumption. That was where Foxen tended to prepare food and tea. Caf? This thing he had not heard of much nor seen. The Omwati weighed his curiosity versus the hesitation to enter an enclosed space with this man. Foxen seemed to have placed Karran on the list of ‘okay’ and the Zabrak was willing to introduce his partner…

Curiosity won out.

“I am…interested in caf,” Flyndt replied, cooing quietly afterwards akin to a light hum. He approached a couple more paces, halted outside arms’ reach and waited for the Zabrak to lead on.

Diy gave a wave back from the conservator, its cool air causing goosebumps on her forearms. She stood up with a small armful of fresh herbs, vegetables, and a wrapped parcel of meat, depositing them on the counter beside a basket of eggs. She slipped a small homemade bacon, probably from some game Karran had hunted, from the parcel and crouched to offer it to young cythraul. As for animals go, he was cute and she was partial to canines anyhow.

“There ya go, Frond.”

Straightening up, she gestured towards a cabinet beside Zuza, “If ya could grab couple o’ pans, can get bacon fryin’ ‘n’ eggs goin’ on the gasser”

The Kiffar paused and raised one of the long green courgettes, a grin on her face as she cocked an eyebrow. “Ya wanna chop or cook?”

Frond went from dramatically sleepy walking after to Zuza, to fully conscious with his tongue lolling out his mouth and circling round Diy’s feet. He took it very politely, ensuring to not nip the woman, before happily walking off with the prize. After an overdramatic spin to sit down, he essentially inhaled it.

Zuza rolled her eyes with a smile at the antics, but after watching long enough to ensure he wasn’t gonna choke himself she turned back to the counter, grabbing the pans from a cupboard and placing them on the stove top.

A glint in her eye told of mischief, but she responded with a very normal, “I can chop!” before turning to get in front of the chopping board.

“Awh, poor Ru.”

All talk of caf was temporarily forgotten as soon as Flyndt looked up and saw the shuttle descend. He ignored how his feathers whipped in the gusts displaced by the transport, sunset gaze locked onto the hatch even before it started to open. His crest perked up at the sight of Foxen.

The small man exhaled, shoulders relaxing, unaware of how much anxiety had been silently sitting on them until the Nautolan was at his side. It took him a moment to process the signs even at the slower speed but he was raisin his own hand to reply when Minnie commented. His nose twitched.

Half-gloved fingers sign a simple O. K. back.

And he smiled, to Foxen.

Then to Minnie with a simple nod, correcting pronunciation without a second thought, “Karran.”

When Karran spotted Foxen, he made the choice to ensure that his hands were visible from nearly every angle.

“Foxen, good to see you. You look as if you healed up well.”

Karran would have allowed the mispronunciation to pass without remark, but simply smiled at Flyndt’s interjection and bowed to the female Nautolan.

“Yes, I am Karran. And you are?”

“Brother?”

Karran cocked his head, confused for a moment. He looked at Minnow, then to Foxen, then back at Minnow…then to Foxen again.

This charming young woman was **his* sister?*

He shrugged.

Not impossible.

“Minnow. A pleasure to meet you. I promise, whatever your brother has told you, he is being modest. He is likely the toughest fight I’ve had in a long time, and it was supposed to be a sparring match. I would hate to be on the receiving end of his blade when he is not holding back.”

He turned to the taller Nautolan and bowed.

“It is for that reason, and his association with Jax, that he or you, by extension I suppose, or Flyndt here, may call on me whenever you need and I will answer.”

He held up his right hand to Foxen, slowly lowered it to his saber, and removed it from its holster. As he held it in his palm, he summoned the Force to lift the cylinder and transport it over to the porch to set it down gently on a table.

“Just so that we can all feel a bit more comfortable here. And just so there are no surprises. My…partner and a friend are indoors. I would hate for an accidental surprise to end in injury.”

Despite his current situation, Karran still had to come to terms with the relationship he had found himself in. Not that it affected how he might approach anyone else. It was not uncommon for Zabrak, at least of his and Sera’s tribe, to remain open to romance and bonds from multiple sources. Their tribes had found it instilled a greater community among families.

“The dogs are off. Likely tracking small game in the woods. You’ll hear them when they find something. They do not like to be still for long.”

Karran returned his attention wholly to Minnow. One deep, golden brown eye focused entirely on her.

“Yes, Baby. She tends to sleep late. But she’ll be awake before long. If you are nervous around large animals, that would be the best time to catch her. She is very sluggish to start her day.”

Finally he addressed the entire trio.

“But of course, you are all welcome to stay for breakfast. There is plenty to go around. Most of it grown right here.”

Karran did his best to anticipate the various reactions the group may have, but found himself drawing a blank on two out of three. Foxen would likely decline, but as far as he could tell, if either of the other two were at all eager to stay, then he might give in.

“Pffft!” Diyrian nearly spewed a sip of her caf, caught off guard with the comment. She gestured at the other woman with a spatula she had just gathered, and stuck her tongue out. “Ay! Careful now, ‘ave him rollin’ in that oversized hoodie of his.”

She shook her head, green curls bobbing with the motion and a grin lingering. The faux-Zelosian set about lining bacon into a pan and cracking eggs into a bowl as the meat started sizzling. While scrambling the yolks, Diy happened to glance up and out the window briefly, catching a glimpse of Karran taking a break? Good.

The sizzling picked up and she flipped the bacon strips watching them crisp up slowly, not phased by the splattering.

“So…how’s it goin’ with Ziggy? The Corps?” She turned and leaned against the countertop sideways, picking her mug up.

Bril hadn’t expected his journey to Karran’s homestead to take as long as it had; however, he learned that when he heard that little voice in the back of his mind, it was better to listen to it. It hadn’t steered him wrong thus far. His escort had made it known that they should return to the Citadel and explained that her duties didn’t include accompanying him on some wild squall chase, but nonetheless ended up begrudgingly acquiescing to his whims after he rebuffed every attempt to dissuade him from his newfound path.

“It won’t take long. I promise,” he assured the guard, strolling at a quickened pace in search of … something. He didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was needed elsewhere. When his aimless trek led him to a small outcropping a few minutes’ walk from the Citadel proper, the sensation grew. As he came closer, fleeting images of roiling waves flashed in his mind; then, a silver thread, and finally, a polished gemstone of swirling greens, blues, and copper hues.

The rapid emergence of images gave the young knight pause, prompting him to take a deep breath before he began to search his surroundings more thoroughly. His senses led him to a long crack in the rock face. It was just wide enough for Bril to get his arm in, and he did just that without hesitating. Normally, he knew better to go around sticking his hand into strange places, but that’s what his gut told him to do - and he wasn’t one to ignore his instincts. The thought of how strange he must have looked, rummaging around inside a rock face, made him chuckle.

“What in Arcona’s name are you doing?” asked his escort.

“Searching, of course. There’s something in here I just kn–got it!” Bril brushed against something with the tips of his fingers. It was cold, and smooth. Just a little further…. He pushed his arm in deep enough for him to curl a finger around whatever this thing was, and once he was certain he had a good enough grip on it, he pulled back.

-

In his hand, he held a necklace consisting of a thin silver chain and a teardrop-shaped pendant that was about 2in (5.08cm) in length; the latter was a stunning blend of teal and skobeloff green swirls reminiscent of rolling waves, with traces of dark gold and bronze scattered throughout. The polished gem was wreathed in a thin silver case that secured it in place. He lifted the necklace in the air, causing it to gleam in the Selenian sun. Turning to his escort with a smile, he proclaimed triumphantly, “Now, we can go.”

Elsewhere

When they arrived at Karran’s homestead, Bril thanked the guard for accompanying him. He knew she was just doing her job, but he wanted to make sure she knew that her efforts were appreciated, nonetheless. As she took her leave, he began making his way to the group. He hadn’t expected there to be this many people there, and the only person he recognized was Karran himself, so he started in his direction in particular.

“Hey, it’s been a while!” he said in Zabraki with a wave, making sure he greeted the man loud enough for him to hear him while he crossed the yard.

Zuza laughed, making a particularly poignant chop before returning to normal methods of chopping them greens.

She glanced up at the mention of Zig, her expression brightening. “It’s goin’ good. We’re both pretty busy, makes it hard sometimes but we get away often enough I think. It’s good. Same for the corps, new recruits on the horizon. Busier than ever but it’s.. its good work. Seein’ em grow. Sivall got her knighting recently, felt like I could burst for her.”

Everything happened incredibly fast. He heard the familiar voice call out and began to turn to respond. But then remembered that Foxen was present and no one was expecting Bril.

“Foxen wait! He is a-”

Knives were thrown. Embedded in flesh.

“-friend. He is a friend. I apologize. I did not know he would be dropping by.”

And here he had expected to have a nice reunion with a friend of his. It seemed like one of the people present, the tall nautolan, had other plans. Everything happened too quickly for the younger zabrak to react. The all-too familiar pain of pierced flash demanded his attention, causing him to lower his gaze to the two knives now embedded in his lower extremities. Perhaps just as shocking as the sudden escalation to violence was Bril Teg Arga’s utter lack of an expected response to the assault. His injuries prompted nothing more than a scowl in Foxen’s direction, and he glared at him from across the field while removing each blade from his legs.

“Well, that’s some greeting,” Bril said while tossing the knives to the ground. Then, he sighed, calling upon the Living Force to begin the work of healing his wounds. They healed faster than usual, this time, and when he checked to see if they had healed properly, he was pleased to see that the flesh had mended without leaving scars - at least none he could see on the skin.

He shifted his gaze from Foxen to Karran, and he bowed his head. “My apologies, my friend,” he spoke again in Zabraki, a clear signal that he was only interested in addressing him. “I figured that Ruka had already let you know that I was coming. He escorted me here, but clan business called him away. It’s good to see you.”

Flyndt had been staring at the Reek until a couple small birds flew past his line of sight, eyes tracking their flight. Red feathers twitched lightly when he noted the two siblings talking to each other briefly. His attention still pulled elsewhere – Drakor preening in the treetops – and not really keen on focusing presently, the Omwati dipped into the Force and felt towards the energies around Foxen.

A near audible sigh escaped him. Sibling bickering. It left an oddly comforting feeling, nostalgic, but also a heavier lingering emotion he did not want to identify right now. So he watched the Keeradak and occasionally, when he remembered, checked on emotions in the group.

Then Foxen whirled.

A sharp lace of red tension across his mind, radiating aggressive defense from the Nautolan.

His gloved hand flew to the small of his back, fingers curling into the holes of his petar and drawing it from the wrap around his waist.

A second later and the Omwati was gone in the midst of reactions.

Two knives pulled from flesh, Karran’s explaination, healing and foreign discussion.

Pause.

Fingers twitched on cold bronze, thumb brushing the button on the hilt without compressing.

An exhale, he let go of the weave of shadows and light, reappearing a couple meters from the group where he had started circling to flank the possible threat. A flash of relief in that sunset gaze that flicked from the group to Foxen as he tucked his weapon away slowly.

“Simply a miscommunication, my friend. I hope you will not hold it against him. My understanding is that he has had a very troubled past. He is honest and true to his word though.”

Karran hoped their conversation in Zabraki would not arouse too many suspicions in the Nautolan. But then thought to add quickly.

“Also perhaps do not mention Plagueis or their past. It may create more tension.”

“Sivall, mm, yeah, heard Karran mention her. Maybe Jeanie did too.” Diy chuckled as she picked up a pan and stirred the eggs over the heat. “Should take her out for drinks to celebrate, eh? I’d fancy meetin’ her.”

The loth cat grin hid none of her eagerness. The faux-Zelosian lived to getting to know new people.

She set aside the cooked and scrambled yolks, and turned the gasser off under the crispy bacon. For a vegetarian, she seemed to have a decent handle on cooking meats. A ding from the table drew her over to grab a datapad there, absent-mindedly checking it.

“Good to hear, you ‘n’ Ziggy still get time to yerselves,” she said while scrolling.

Karran took a deep breath. In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

“Respectfully, I must defuse a situation in which one guest of mine, welcome, but uninvited, has been assaulted by another guest, also welcome, but also uninvited. By Zabraki codes of honor and hospitality I would be within my rights to at least remove the offending party from my home, and at most challenge him to trial by combat. But I understand the sensitivity of the situation and wish to resolve this civily.”

Another breath. In the nose, out the mouth. Now to address all parties.

“I apologize to all parties for the misunderstanding. I believe Bril to be reasonable and understanding. I hope you and yours will be as well. I believe the lesson here is that you cannot simply attack people because they surprise you.”

The Sith looked to meet the eyes of everyone gathered but kept them locked on Foxen. It was beginning to dawn on him just how dangerous, violent, and unstable an individual he was.

Was this how Ruka saw me at my worst? **Is* this how Ruka sees me now?*

“She’s not the type for drinkin’ but maybe it could be fun.” Zuza smiled, finishing up with the corgettes and moving onto a different choice of veg. “And me too. Glad I still get time for you and me as well. Hard ta keep it all balanced.”

She shook her head, looking over at the pad, “Anythin’ interesting?”

Karran’s eye softened as it watched the Nautolan. Fear. He’d been many things. Angry. Hopeless. Broken. Grieving. But true fear? Not for a long time. Not since he was a boy. He realized that Foxen was facing true fear on a near daily basis.

“There’s a quiet place, just across the stream. It’s my personal temple. If any of you are touched with the Force, perhaps give it some space. But it is quiet, cool, dark. The stream is also very cool and relaxing. Take care of him.”

Karran pointed into the forest.

“The hounds are off in the opposite direction. I will have my droid bring a some caf and tea for you three.”

Bril didn’t say a word in response to Karran’s attempt to convince him of his attacker’s character. The truth was that he wasn’t really angry at all, which was likely more concerning than if he were angry. He did take note of his warning not to mention Plagueis, though; he’d learned since their last meeting that that tended to be a sour subject around Karran and his associates.

His gaze shifted to the woman standing nearest Foxen, who was now threatening both he and Karran. “I’m the asshole. I was coming to visit one of my only friends on this planet, and I somehow end up with knives in my leg,” he said, tilting his head to the side with a curious look. “I’m not sure I understand the logic, but sure.”

When she mentioned that they would talk about what had happened, he shook his head. “No need. I can see how my arrival caused confusion. You were standing up for someone you care about.”

Flyndt had dropped his arms from behind his back and straightened up when Foxen was suddenly at his side again. His eyes widen in surprise, gaze glancing at the two Zabraks in confusion, hands twitching at his side but not yet drawing a blade as he assessed. No one appeared to be hostile, save Minnie intervening and trying to control the situation. Reaching across the Force’s ether, the Omwati sensed restraint on Karran’s part and an odd lack of anger in his friend after getting stabbed in the legs.

Shifting attention to brush the hulking Nautolan’s aura, Flyndt recoiled. It was as if a wind storm had uprooted hot ash and coal at him. He sucked air in sharply, chest heaving, nearly mirroring the mandalorian’s. Overwhelming, his own feelings. His fist clenched as frustration started budding – and he wasn’t sure at whom or what. Himself? He did cause this meeting. None of that mattered nor helped right now, not to disengage Foxen, redirect, calm.

“Min lúmincë o kóleva…kway yen o sívë…” he recited old teachings under his breath, the words of his people punctuated with light clicks. One minute of patience, ten years of peace. He thought it stupid. It had a point, and tethered him to think.

The Omwati angled slightly ahead of the Nautolan and threw an arm before him, reaffirming the bar again when the man stiffened and tried to move around it. No. With a glance at Minnie’s positioning, he turned and gestured at Foxen then himself, and the earlier signs of O.K. Keeping his ears on the conversation behind him – he did not care about caf no more – with his sunset gaze latched onto sanguine. He slightly raised his hand palm up with the rise of his chest, lowering palm down in a deep exhale. Feathered crest mirrored. Repeat, whether or not his friend followed. .

Talk of a duel or challenge in retribution, then a temple – though he should avoid, why? – and a stream. Water. Minnie was asking him if he wanted? He gave her a prolonged look over his shoulder before turning to Foxen again.

“We go, yes? See stream?”

Diy was about halfway through reading the message and wondering who the kark is Bril when she realized this…might not be her datapad. The ‘arrarmio’ and the lack of green emojis should have been a sign. Sorry, Horns.

“Ya know a guy named Bril?” Diy gestured with the pad before setting it aside. She leaned against the table as she talked with Zuza, “ ‘parently he comin’ to visit Karran, says Ru.”

“Well, given the sudden attack, I wasn’t sure if all of you were allies or enemies. I’m sure you can understand why I chose to speak in my mother tongue to the only person who I knew I could trust,” Bril said in response, his voice devoid of the usual lilting quality born from his dialect of Zabraki being an especially tonal language - a difference that Karran would surely notice. His tone was flat.

Although he felt like he hadn’t personally done anything wrong, he nonetheless offered Minnie a slight bow with the hopes of easing the tension between them. “But, know that I don’t intend to make a habit of that. My apologies if I caused any offense.”

He tilted his head, recognizing the term as a reference to the Jedi but not knowing it specifically. “I’m a Force user, yes, but no Jedi, despite what my attire might suggest,” he replied, “My path is my own.”

As the woman introduced them, he offered a polite, perhaps even overly so, nod to each of them, “My name is Bril.” His eyes lingered on Foxen longer than the rest.

“Uhh.. not in Arcona.” Zuza looked over, not sure why when reading wasn’t exactly her forte but no, the word didn’t ring any more bells in text than spoken.

She finished the head of lettuce she’d been slicing and started walking for the front door, backwards initially while she spoke to Diy, “I’ll call it out for ‘im. The veggies won’t burn themselves.”

Opening the front door, Zuza began calling out before the group registered.

“Hey Karran a guy named Bril is…. coming. Uh.” It clicked and the small Human glanced between the various new faces, noting the tension in most of them and deciding to go casual, “…Welp, Ruka tried. Which one of you is Bril?”

“He is here. It has been eventful.”

Karran eyed the group.

Despite the varying degrees of patching that had been attempted, a tension hung in the air like a Tatooine Scoundrel movie. As if at any moment someone would draw and an all new fight would begin.

And then Minnow began speaking Mando'a. He did not speak more than a handful of words Jax had taught him, but the sound was unmistakable. He also doubted Bril spoke it either. Then he saw what the Nautolan woman had seen.

The vambrace. Many Mandalorians were lenient about aruetii wearing their gear and armor. Some even took it as a compliment. But there were still some that got a bit touchy about it. That is why Karran avoided wearing anything that could be culturally significant to someone else.

Please speak Mando'a, Bril. Please.

Bril’s eyes shot toward the home in the background when he heard his voice, and he raised his hand while looking to the woman standing in the doorway. “Let Ruka know that calling ahead means that he lets the person know I’m coming before I arrive,” he said, his tone becoming a touch more playful.

Once the nautolan woman began to speak to him in a tongue language he couldn’t understand, he narrowed his eyes a little while trying to listen more closely. A few of the words sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place what language it was. Luckily, he was able to put the pieces together when he noticed her eyes shift to the vambrace worn on his left forearm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said while shaking his head, “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

This wasn’t his first time encountering a Mandalorian who questioned him regarding his use of beskargam in his equipment, and he knew enough to know that many Children of Mandalore didn’t tolerate the use of the metal by those who hadn’t recited the Creed. He would have to approach the topic carefully. “This was given to me by a friend, a Mandalorian,” he explained, taking a subtle step backward to put more distance between them - he would need it should their conversation take a turn for the worse. “I proved myself worthy of his skill and of the privilege of wearing the beskargam, so he forged armor for me as a gift.”

He watched her intently, looking for any significant changes in her expression or posture. “…Is that agreeable with you?”

Well, she certainly didn’t look pleased with his answer, but at least she hadn’t reacted as negatively as Bril thought she might. When she questioned his knowledge of his friend’s clan name, he smiled as images of the old bruiser appeared in his head. There was no way that he could not remember the name of the geriatric veteran who had given him a tougher fight than any of the young shockboxers with whom he’d shared than ring had.

He spoke the man’s name with a hint of pride clear in his voice, “Clan name Fec. Kalu Fec, is his name.” Whether that name would hold any weight was anyone’s guess, but that’s what the man had shared with him. Bril mirrored her gestured and shook her hand with a firm grip, “I understand what it’s like to take issue with the way others treat the memory of your people. I have similar … difficulties with the way the remains, cultural or otherwise, of my Dathomiri cousins are treated.”

His lips tightened for a moment, but he shook away the seeds of anger from his mind before continuing, “If I ever give you reason to think that I’m dishonoring you or your people, please, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Hes already apologising if I read the message right.” Zuza commented, more to herself than anyone else as she watched things unfold.

It was a relief that his beskar was.. given. Her own was just beskar. There weren’t any clan signifiers, and certainly wasn’t claimed from a corpse, though best for the conversation to not come up here with this one evidently. She had been approaching in case a fight needed diffusing but finished approaching with more ease to her step.

The other woman was the only one she didn’t have to crane her neck for.

“Soooo… is everyone all good? Cause this atmosphere is thick enough to make a sandwich out of it.” Zuza smiled, but the concern still bore through in the way her eyes didn’t crease with it, glancing between the retreating backs of the other two, Karran, and Bril and… whoever this other lady was.

“The legs may be my fault. On Fmyour brother’s first visit, I sensed an intruder. One that may have posed an imminent threat. I sent my hunting hounds after him to flush him out. I believe they may have been his intended targets. His aim would have been just about perfect.”

Karran pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head, and sighed.

“As far as you know, does any of his trauma extend to canines?”

“No sudden movements, we can do that.” Zuzas brow knitted into a frown, glancing towards the brother.

Hed attacked Bril in the legs. As well as seemingly being the person who kicked Karran’s ass not so long ago evidently. Though if that was accidental.. well it was still bad. A bad that could be navigated at least.

With the mention of canines involved, she did hope that it wasn’t canines and just the shock of having hunting hounds on heel. Frond looked like an adult now, but he was still a pup and too trusting. Not too energetic but still, a large Cythraul could be intimidating at the best of times. She waited, deciding it wasn’t worth mention if canines weren’t the root issue.

Having watched Zuza call out the front door, pause and mention a you that seemed like addressing a group, and disappear outside, Diyrian passed a look at Frond laying nearby. “Somethin’ tells me we need to make more eggs.”

The faux-Zelosian moved to one of the many large windows that lined the house, peeled back the curtain and slid open the glass. She crossed her as on the sill as she leaned out, the Dajorra sun warming her golden skin. Karran and Zuza were talking with some Zabrak dude and Nautolan chick. She didn’t want to interrupt the convo – plenty time to meet folks later. So, Diy just watched and listened from afar.

Blue-green eyes narrowed as the woman picked up some phrases that alluded to some earlier conflict with some bloke that wasn’t there presently, and mention of that spar from weeks ago. A frown. She tried meeting Karran’s gaze, silently asking, ‘Ya good? Everything fine? Need me to blast some she-akks?’

Karran glanced back to the house to see green curls in the window, then intense eyes.

Ancestors, I forget how scary she can look when she is serious.

He smiled, winked, and gestured for her to join them.

The Zabrak fixed Zuza within his gaze as she approached and gave a quick nod to confirm that the situation had calmed. Considering how their meeting had started, one could find ample reason to feel proud of the way they all had handled the situation. Bril had witnessed tempers flare over less, yet these people were able to reach an understanding with him in little time. Maybe Minnow was right - maybe they weren’t as bad as their tumultuous meeting made them seem. Hopefully.

Now, that was a proper handshake. He gripped the nautolan’s forearm tightly while lifting his other hand to place it on her shoulder. “I appreciate your condolences. And of course, feel free to look into it further. But, if you should happen to come across the old man and he challenges you, don’t underestimate him because of his age. The man still packs quite a punch.” By the time he made it to the end of his sentence, Bril had started rubbing his jaw subconsciously while thinking of the first punch Kalu Fec landed on him when they met.

He took a step back as well and ensured her that what happened was water under the bridge. “I hope your brother is okay, as well.”

Slavers? Again?

Karran made note of these details. He’d have to check with his sources and see if they could find any record of a massive black Nautolan being traded. Best case, that information could lead to some closure to the man and his family. At the very least, he knew some people that had a vested interest in putting slavers out of business.

“You have no need to apologize. I have found that people are their trues selves when under stress. So, if anything, I appreciate your honesty. As I said, if you or any of your family need something. Simply call. I have resources and am happy to apply them to good causes.”

“Some of the best fighters I know happen to be of shorter stature. Would be a serious mistake to underestimate you because of that, I’m sure.” he said with a smile, hoping to replace the still-heavy atmosphere between them with a lighter one.

His expression became more serious with Minnow started to vent her emotions. Now, he was starting to understand a little more why she said that Foxen wasn’t okay, and why he likely reacted to a stranger the way he had. Even though they just met, seeing her this upset didn’t sit well with his spirit. But what could he do? He wasn’t the best with words, nor did he know nearly well enough to know what she responded to the most. Still, he felt like he had to do something, so he pulled a handkerchief made of gray silk with gold embroidery and handed it to her.

“Sometimes, it’s good to cry. To let yourself feel. Can’t always keep it bottled up inside, you know?”

Her mention of slavers stayed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it were connected in any way to his own clan. It was an answer he was in any rush to have answered, though, especially because it wasn’t his business.

Her last comment earned a look of playful disbelief from the Zabrak man, who was the second tallest of the small group. “Hey, it’s not our fault that you need every inch you can get,” he quipped with a chuckle, stepping forward and lifting an arm over Minnow’s head like he was going to use her like an armrest. “Being tall had it’s shortcomings, too.”

Zuza laughed, glancing up at Karran and Bril before looking at Minnie, settling into a more comfortable stance with her hands in her pockets and leaning back on her heels.

“I’d say you get used to it around here but some day I’m gonna need a brace so im not permanently angled up.”

It was concerning, all the conversation but there was little to comment on that wouldn’t be better asked later, or of someone else. Bril’s offer made her smile, deciding that she liked this one. Made sense as to why Ruka would know him well enough to send word ahead- well. Not ahead quite. Ruka tried.

And the the yellow Nautaolan came out with that, and the Human cracked up, trying to turn into coughs but ending up just laughing into her elbow.

Seeing Karran’s smile and wink pacified her concern, Diy shot him a grin and a nod back after considering the assurance. She pulled from the window to start heading out but paused, staring down at the young Cythraul.

“Ya gonna stay off the counter, yeah? Or come with me?”

Frond tilted his head in a way that made his ears flop slightly.

“Right.” Diy crossed over and pushed all the food deeper onto the counter and ensured the gasser was off. With one last look, she left the house, holding the door open a little bit to let Frond decide whether in or out before closing it.

Her casual stroll over paused as she neared, catching the last bit of conversation about heights and – oh, she was gonna like this Nautolan gal! A laugh escaped her and she slid up beside the dying Human, her grin wide as a nexu’s. “Sure there’s some comment ‘bout horn length here. That fly as pick up lines these days?” Another chuff, sunlight reflecting off her golden Grivna clan tattoos on her cheeks. “Heya, folks. Diyrian, call me Diy.”

The faux-Zelosian offered her hand to both the shorter Zabrak man and Nautolan savage.

“Long horns make better handlebars.”

Karran cocked a half-smile. He wasn’t prone to crude or lewd jokes, but very occasionally, in the right company, an opportunity is too good to pass up.

Zuza managed to just about get control of herself, wiping a tear from her eye as Karran spoke and having to restrain another bout.

She shook her head, a grin plastered across her face, “I’m Zuza Lottson of Arcona. It’s always good to meet more of Jax’s folk.”

“Oh yeah, real tough,” replied Bril, “You know how hard it is to get a well tailored suit with arms this long? Nope.”

He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he guessed it had something to do with his arm hovering above her. When she inquired about the inches, he quirked an eyebrow at her, “I could, but that depends on what you have to trade. I’m a sucker for a deal, you know.”

She nodded to Bril, “All of us ‘cept that one. Hope you’ve only heard good things.” Zuza did a little curtsey. Cora’s teachings had mostly stuck around and while it was far from perfect it was a solid attempt. And definitely meant to be more for fun than for anything professional.

Her gaze turned to Bril, “And for Ruka to be the one you know, that’s a good start out here.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Diy,” said Bril while offering his hand in kind to shake her own.

After that, he turned his attention to Minnie and shook his head, “I’m the odd man out, I’m afraid. I’m relatively new, but this is actually my second time on Selen. A certain Echani already has you beat on the tour. But if you’re a martial artist, we could go a few rounds sometimes. Would be get practice in between my shockboxing matches.”

He nodded to Zuza, “Ruka and Karran are two of the first people I met when I visited the Academy on Arx for the first time. They’ve been very kind.”

He stood with his hands held behind his back while watching the Mirialan woman. She wasn’t wrong, of course; Mandalorians were renowned and often feared for their martial prowess, but that said nothing about her in particular. “That may be true,” he gave a slight grin, a touch of pride in his voice, “But there’s levels to this, darling. Maybe I’ll show you a thing or two.”

And with that, Bril took several steps backward to put distance between the two of them, and removed his shockboxing gloves and tossed them on the ground a few feet to his left. “Won’t be needing these. Wouldn’t want to hurt those pretty lekku of yours,” Another grin followed, but this one was accompanied by him lifting his left hand and gesturing for her to begin with a “bring it” motion.

Zuza looked between the two of them, and then took steps back to go sit on the porch and watch.

Frond, upon noticing she was close lumbered out of the house and flooped down beside her, leaning his head on her lap as she petted him. He looked like an adult dog, but was still a puppy.

Considering how big he was already, she was a little concerned for him wandering around here, so was happy he stayed sat with her rather than running off to greet Minnie.

Karran eyed the pairing then leaned over to Diy and Zuza.

“Five hundred credits on the pretty one to win.”

“…which pretty one?”

“The pretty one in the sundress.”

Zuza narrowed her eyes slowly, “Mmmm… still not specific enough there mate.”

Diyrian had winked back to Karran on the handlebar comment before shaking hands with Bril, her fingers brushing the shockboxing gloves. A brief flash of pain, hands gripping knives and pulling them out to throw onto the ground. Releasing his hand, she gave the Zabrak a pass over look as he turned to talk with Minnow, noting the robes seemed the right color. Pair that with the Nautolan glancing at Karran and commenting on ‘not sparring like you two’, it seemed like pieces clicking in her mind.

She kept her thoughts to herself, grin only degrading to a smile as she listened to the conversation. Her blue-green gaze flicked towards the pair at the creak, a massive Nautolan sitting there, and narrowed.

Thus, she was distracted when Karran leaned over. “Whatcha bettin’? We back on the horn grabbin’?” She cocked a brow and stuck her tongue out, just noticing the two starting to square up after.

“Copikla …” he repeated the word, wondering which language it was from. “You going to teach me what that means later? When I win, you mean.”

After noticing her change in expression, he turned his head to follow her gaze. A disappointed look appeared on his face. He understood why she decided against it, though. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. We’ll find time for our spar later.”

“The pretty one in the pink sundress.”

Karran had to admit disappointment at the lack of a sparring session. He had looked forward to watching both of them fight. But this still meant that his first match with Bril would be a surprise. And now he couldn’t help but wonder how Minnie would handle herself.

And the sundress is definitely doing well for her.

“Pink looks good on her,” Diy winked, coming up to speed. Didn’t seem like a spar was going to happen right now though.

“Gonna have to make more eggs ‘n’ stuff, we feedin’ two,” another glance to the other two at the stream, “four extra?”

“I’m not one to shy away from a lesson or two,” he answered, briefly tilting his head to the side when he noticed the curled finger. After scooping up the gloves he tossed earlier, he walked up to her, having figured that the gesture was meant to call him over.

“Sure, so long as you don’t mind this one, or Foxen won’t if he sees you near him? If he’s gonna have issues with him I might take him inside again.” Zuza patted Frond’s head, who closed his eyes happily. His tongue lolled out and she continued patting considering he seemed to like it.

Karran smiled. Large gatherings for meals always reminded him of his visits to Iridonia.

“Excellent. It is a beautiful morning. I think breakfast outside would be refreshing for everyone.”

He turned to walk toward the house.

“Oh, and Baby is still under the house if you want to meet her. She is gentle. Good with kids.”

Upon entering the house, he then went about preparing tea and caf for everyone, making sure to set aside a cup for Foxen and Flyndt. A small bipedal droid emerged from a back room and hopped up onto his shoulder.

“BD-25, I need you to take these to our friends down by the stream.”

The little droid maneuvered back down to the floor and accepted the plate that was set on its flat head, as well as the two cups of steaming liquid before carefully making its way out the door.

Karran went back to preparing drinks for the main group, including the optional Alderaanian sweet cream, sugar, honey, and flavored syrups that some people found appealing in their caf.

As he approached, Bril wasn’t sure what to expect from the nautolan woman. He watched her carefully with an expectant look, noting the way her head tails curled expectantly when he came close. Whether it be a shockboxing match or a mission for the Brotherhood, the zabrak knight had been in enough high-stress scenarios to know that he was pretty good at maintaining his composure. But what Minnie did next caught him off guard. Eyes flicked over her form when she fell into a split, and Bril felt heat building in his face when her hand moved to grasp his thigh. What a tease.

“Stick around,” he said, sounding noticeably more flustered than before, “I’m sure they’ll be more wounds for you to kiss eventually.”

And then she turned, and Bril shook his head to regain his focus. “I could eat, and breakfast outside sounds like a lovely idea, friend.” he said to Karran with a smile.

He looked to Zuza, then the animal who seemed to be loving having its head patted. He wasn’t familiar with the species. “What is he?” he asked, “And what’s the fella’s name?”

Oh yeah, she really was going to like this Minnow. Diyrian watched the woman get back up from teasing Bril and nodded as she accepted the breakfast invite.

“Well, suit himself then. More for the rest of us. Imma just go ‘n’ finish that up. Y'all talk ‘n’ play nice,” Diy nodded to the group, threw a final look at the pair in the distance and followed Karran into the house. She saddled up beside him at the counter and started another batch of eggs. A few glances here and there at him, it wasn’t until he addressed the droid and it shuffles out that she spoke up.

“Foxen’s the Foxen from a few weeks ago, eh? – I said what I said, I’ll play nice. Ya consider him a pal, so…but I will step in if he gets outta line.”

She didn’t know what happened exactly, but them glimpses into the other Zabrak’s cloths and context suggested it. Why would them two be sitting elsewhere than space needed? Maybe she was painting this Nautolan as the bad guy, she was acting on bias. She felt a bit guilty there. The faux-Zelosian tried switching topics, “Minnie there,” a whistle, “a whole package of fun. Got yer friend blushin’ eh?”

“Hes a Cythraul. Kinda like a Arx wolf but bigger. He’s… continuing to get bigger. Not even a year yet.” Zuza shook her head, amusement across her face as she finally stopped the pats.

Frond looked up at her accusingly, giving zuza the wiggle room to escape him laying his head on her. The accusing look turned to the closest thing to a pout a canine could.

“We were gonna suggest a picnic anyways so, works out. Wanna help me set up a blanket?” She had noticed he hadnt mentioned a clan name yet, so getting a moment alone would be a good one to ask.

“A Cythraul, huh? And he’s already so big!” Bril was impressed, “I wouldn’t mind having one as a companion, myself. Are they a common breed? Or more difficult to come by?”

He was a little surprised when Zuza asked him to help her set up the picnic area, but he nodded, giving Front a quick wave before turning to follow the human woman.

As they walked, he tucked his hands behind his head and looked around to take in the scenery. Karran had done well for himself. A home with a decent amount of land was the dream of many of their people, so it came as no surprise that he had secured one for himself.

“So, how long have you known Ruka and Karran?”

Zuza led the way round to where a large blanket was stored. Frond remained pouting on the porch, but stayed put and just watched them head off. He was sat up, and despite his shenangins his tail was lightly thumping against the deck of the porch.

“They’re pretty rare, not many packs going around so breeding is kept a close eye on. I,” She paused, opening the lid of the basket and considering how best to tell. “Well, Frond is a bit of a funny story but to cut it a little short cause.. that was a weird wake up call, he chose me. There’s a new litter running around and somehow I got close enough to ‘em without ever even being on the same planet and.. I dunno. Force stuff I guess.”

Upon beginning to pull the blanket out, it was clear that the ask for help wasn’t necessarily a unneeded one. It was a basically a large rug more than a blanket.

“Karran, not so long. A year or more, though we only got talking properly more recently. He’s cool. Ruka I met not long after I first joined, he’s strict. Bit of a mood killer sometimes but it’s not hard ta tell why. He’s a good man.” The Human paused again, and Zuza looked up at Bril, speaking in a lower tone, “So.. what clan are you from? I don’t judge so don’t worry, but.. well. Couldn’t help but notice the lack of mention.”

Bril squatted to help him get a better hold on the rug and gave it a good tug to pull it out. Once they had it out, he helped her unroll it and place it wherever she thought it was best placed.

“Huh,” he said, “Well, in my experience, the Will of the Force is seldom clear. It wouldn’t be the first time that it’s brought beings together who likely wouldn’t have met otherwise.” His words sounded personal, and the momentary brightening of his expression all but confirmed that fact.

Mood killer wasn’t how he would have described their Mirialan friend, but he understood why she might consider him as such. “He seems like he tries his best. Really cares about his family and the people under his watch. Bit of a worrier, though, I agree. But it’s a charming kind of worrying.”

He smoothed out the rug and used his hand to wipe away any dust that had collected inside it. When she inquired about his clanship, he paused, giving her a more serious look while observing her carefully. She didn’t give off any tells of being dishonest with him, and she seemed genuinely curious. He sighed while rubbing the back of his neck, “You can’t say anything, because I’ve learned that for a lot of Arconans this name brings up a lot of bad memories. But I’m a knight in Clan Plagueis.”

“He does. Just… he forgets sometimes that we worry about him too. And while I appreciate his care when it comes to parties… well. Actually no, I can’t really say much on that these days.”

Considering the last party she attended properly was the one where Cole arrived. She regretted how she reacted now, but there was a definite layer of gratefulness to Ruka wanting to protect even if she didn’t feel deserving of it.

Zuza blinked at the name and understanding flooded her expression. She stomped on a corner of the blanket to make it stay down, but nodded, “Yeah that’s.. not a good name for many. They stopped recently, but it’s not common knowledge yet. And a change of heart now doesn’t erase the scars already caused. Good to know.”

She’d never really interacted with Plageuians before, they weren’t exactly friendly with Arcona usually. Still, change was good. Zuza smiled up at the shorter Zabrak on the property, “Right. Sorted. Anything you wanna ask, say.. otherwise before we head back in?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the stories.”

Clan Plagueis’ reputation and how it could potentially shape his interactions with others always remained in the back of his mind, which was why he tended to keep that information close to his chest. Fortunately, his experience with his clan members had been positive thus far, and those few Plagueians he’d worked closely with so far had subverted the expectations he likely would have had if he knew about the clan’s checkered past prior to joining.

“I can only hope that I can help in showing others that we’re not all bad. But you’re right, sins of the past are not easily forgotten, nor are they easily forgiven.”

Bril returned the smile and lifted a hand to touch her shoulder, “No questions, so far. But I want to thank you for being understanding.”

Once they were finished there, Bril suggested that they head back before turning to do just that.

When they were back, he stepped up to Minnie and gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. “Looking down all the time while using those things is bad for you neck, you know,” he teased.

A grumbling sound prompted him to pat his belly, “Man, that breakfast really sounds like a good idea, now.”

“We’re probably gonna need help getting food out there, plates n stuff too. We could pass it along if you wanna help but not break line of sight?” Zuza suggested, hands slipping into her pockets as she glanced off to the woods and then back at Minnie.

Her response to Brils teasing of height had been to stick her tongue out at him.

“Maybe you both could, if we have two pairs of passing going off we might be able to convince Karran to sit down. I get why Zig gets frustrated with me now, and I’ve only been part of the situation this weekend.” She laughed, thinking of how much trouble she gave Zig after her own leg injuries. Maybe she’d.. be a bit less rebellious next time… probably.

He smiled in return before looking to Zuza. “We can do that. Gives me the opportunity to enjoy the scenery more, too. Just tell us what we need to grab and we can get to it,” he said with a nod.

A hexagonal durasteel blade ripped through fabric, a wide ribbon of silk curling and floating down into the lap of crossed legs. Olive hands shifted the shirt as he worked it around to slice through another line. His forehead furrowed briefly here and there, bunching the dark birthmark over his left eye as thoughts flitted through his mind.

The kal dagger still felt odd in his hand, his palm and forearm itching everytime he wielded it or the petar. Foxen had given it to him, when he was without after they had escaped. That was the problem, was it not? Being given it, just like they had done freely– they talked about this once. They talked about a lot of things. Usually weapons’ history or some contraption he was messing with to keep hands busy, or asking the Nautolan to tell him about Selen and the ocean. He had never seen such a massive body of water before.

Foxen wasn’t okay. Their time wasn’t okay but Foxen had worse, longer, way longer.

Do not look.

He did. Them sunset eyes flicked over to a black bare chest looming beside him, grey scarring knotted there. A small pain in his arm, red feathers raising lightly before clamping low.

The next slice was more jagged, quick, fabric torn than cleanly cut.

A breath.

The brook babbled.

Flyndt set the knife aside, noting to put it away when he stood, and shifted to face the larger man. Giving a small smile, he gestured to the bleeding tendril and rubbed his hand over his chest. Please?

“Oh- sorry. My girlfriend. You’d like her, she made her own armour.” Zuza commented, and the headed in, continuing to talk, “Me and Diy can bring stuff out to you guys and you two can have fun arranging the blanket.”

Yus, she didn’t have to work it out.

As tendrils fell away and neck presented, Flyndt paused. a peachy hue broke across his cheeks lightly. A quiet clack of beak as his attention focused. Grabbing one of the strips, he stood on his knees to easier access the wound, gingerly taking the tendril in hand and starting to wind it around with practice.

“How do you feel?” He stopped his motions, then shook his head, feathers ruffling and lips pursing, “Not pain,hoo, uh, head? Mind? Do not have to talk about it, just…okay?”

“Same here,” Bril agreed, “Back home, it was always on the little ones to prepare the table while the adults prepared the food.”

Bril’s looked to the other nautolan and the omwati who had accompanied him at the water’s edge, considering them for a moment before returning his attention to Minnie. Quite the energetic one, she was. Bril tended to come off as a bit more subdued in demeanor, but he didn’t it; her disposition was actually kind of refreshing.

“It’s okay, really,” he assured her, “Take your time. I’m not going to judge.”

Hopefully, his encouraging smile would help ease any worry she had about not being a good conversationalist. “I did, eventually. Though, I was never quite as good at it as my sister and some of my cousins were. I learned a few tricks here and there. I’m a better cook than my brother, at least.” he chuckled, “Poor guy couldn’t make a meal if his life depended on it.”

“I get the sense that Karran is similar in that regard. When we first met, he served caf made in a traditional Iridonian style. That isn’t as much as an actual meal, of course, but I like to imagine that if he was willing to do that for a stranger, then he probably goes above and beyond for the people he cares about.”

He mostly kept his eyes trained on the scenery around them, the distant stream and lush vegetation outlining the flat land of the homestead, but he on occasion found his gaze drifting to the athletic nautolan as she did her stretches. “Our cultures are similar in that regard, then. Entire villages can take part in communal child-rearing but that usually varies based on the tribe. My parents and brother all still live on Iridonia. My sister though tends to travel a lot. Last I checked, she was pursuing a story somewhere in the Mid Rim.”

He shook his head, “Not a writer. Well, kind of. Investigative journalist. She broke the story on the big wig who was embezzling credits that his company had raised to help communities negatively affected by their building projects. The company escapes my name, but it was all over the holonet when it broke. Alxion, I think. Something like that.”

Zuza fingergunned back, before heading inside to explain the situation to Diy.

And to actually start getting stuff ready for the pair outside to take out.

She came out a few minutes later, arms filled with plates that had a small pile of cutlery atop it.

“There you go!”

Once they worked out how they were gonna take it, she rushed off back in.

Frond was following her back and forth, unsure as to what was happening, but happy to be involved in his own way.

He nodded, “Yep. Big sis is doing really well for herself. Big brother, too. My journey is just starting, so I hope I can make our parents proud like they have.”

Bril had planned to take some of the plates himself, but she seemed like she was managing all on her own. Another tease. The zabrak stepped forward and kneeled in front of the blanket to arrange the plates and silverware into their proper places. This would also give her a good idea of how much space he took up, giving her a better picture of how everyone would have to be positioned. “Waiting to see will end up working best.” he said, rising to his feet and beginning in the homestead’s direction.

“What’s it entail? Hard to say at this point, but I’ve been conducting research in the Academy on Arx, recently knighted in the Brotherhood. Those are the main things, thus far.” He left his answers vague. Although he had told Zuza earlier, he wasn’t sure that Minnie would react the same way upon learning what Clan included him amongst its ranks. Doubtful –especially given her brother’s past. Plagueis wasn’t the only group involved in the slave trade, but he also knew better than to bet on them not being the one responsible for the other nautolan’s bondage.

Perhaps a shift in focus to her own clan would help keep the spotlight off of him. Not normally one who was especially could at conversational misdirection, Bril’s transitioned to the adjacent topic with all the grace of a trained orator. “I imagine it is difficult for you all. The Brotherhood, even Arcona, is complicated. And its enemies are numerous. Your clan must get something really good out of it to take on all that being an ally of any Brotherhood clan requires. It’s a big ask, no?”

He gave a knowing nod, his questions ringing with genuine curiosity.

Nimble fingers tied off the impromptu bandage, pulling away to take the device to read. The reactions were indeed subtle and complex. A rise and clamping of plumage, twitches of lips, lifting of brows in surprise then concern. Squinting at two hundred BBY, he didn’t know what that meant, clothes were clothes. A frown followed by…

“Why would one sit on a baby?”

He genuinely did not understand. The Omwati was sitting with Foxen but he was no child, nor watching him in any degree – just being with. He sighed, thumb rubbing edge of tablet as he chewed on what was written.

“What if I help focus? No cut self. Just,” he pursed his lips in thought. A murmur escaped him before he switched topic, “Drakor is trustworthy, I promise. I can not tell how I know, but I know.”

There was an emphasis on know, it was the same empathis Flyndt gave that one night, fresh on Selen. A gloveless olive hand touching two fingers to the Nautolan’s chest, then to his tatttoo’d chin. Known. It was an important distinguish for the bird’s people, somewhat similar to the Mandalorian’s personal views.

Flyndt nodded slowly after rereading. The part on Force users’ being danger gave him pause, brow furrowing as he considered that. It left a bad taste in his mouth and he couldn’t place exactly why. Was it because non-Force Users had more history of violence in his own experience? Did…was Foxen wary with him as himself has been with the nautolan? A lump of guilt started forming in his throat. He didn’t want to think about it. Shake it off.

“We…are okay, yes, all of us okay and glad too,” Flyndt offered his palm, “Aaand can lean on one another, watch back, assure, talk. Minnie too?”

Something was different, that was easy enough for Bril to infer when he noticed the abrupt change in her tone. It was like her infectiously jovial demeanor had frozen over, replaced on a dime with a gelid tenor he’d expect from an officer of the law, but not her. Not the nautolan woman who had hitherto been a delightful interlocutor. Not one to struggle connecting the common threads of events into a single, more easily understood tapestry, Bril took the suddenness of the change as evidence that he had said something to upset her. Those eyes told a story that betrayed her smile and attempt to speak in the same radiant way she’d done so effortlessly before - a subtle act of deception that the Zabrak’s keen ears detected easily.

“Wait.”

He reached out to her on instinct, but she was already outside of his grasp with her back turned. Perhaps that was for the best, given everything that had transpired thus far. The last thing he wanted was to offend her further or even worse, for her brother to misinterpret his actions as aggressive or threatening.

“Minnow, wait.” He said again, his tone more imploring the second time. Thankfully, he had a longer stride than her, so it didn’t take much for him to circle around so he was standing in front of her, looking at her with a concerned look.

“What is it? What did I say?” he asked, searching her face for any salient changes. Then, realization hit. He sucked his teeth while rubbing the back of his neck. “More likely, it’s what I didn’t say, right?”

A defeated sigh escaped his lips, “Look, I’m sorry for avoiding your question. I didn’t say anything because my clan has a pretty awful reputation despite their recent attempts to change that. I mentioned it before to some of the others and it didn’t go well. My clan’s past was something they neglected to mention when I joined. But now, I’m a part of them, and that says as much about me as it does about them.”

He paused to take another breath, ever vigilant to not let his emotions get the better of him. That had been especially difficult following his mission on Kenari. Once he had a moment to collect himself, he spoke again, “I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m sure, given the circumstances of our meeting, it probably raised some red flags. The truth is that I’m a member of Clan Plagueis. That’s what I was reluctant to share.”

Bril took a slight step back, unsure of how she was going to respond to his admission. He didn’t like having to lie or withhold information to people, but he felt that in this situation, he didn’t really have much of a choice. The woman’s brother had put two knives in his legs, for frakk’s sake! Sure, she hadn’t given him any reason to think she would do the same, and he had enjoyed the coquettish atmosphere the two had built up between them, but he was smart enough to know that all that could (and was) likely to change when it came out that he was a member of a clan that had made its bones in no small part in the business of enslaving other people.

Well, the womp rat is out of the bag, now. It was fun while it lasted.

Zuza had been about to step out of the building, a few plates of food in hand but paused upon hearing the conversation.

She adjusted the plates so she could easily be placed down, and waited in the doorway to see how this went before providing an interruption. This would either go… neutrally or probably rather shittily. The latter being more likely considering ongoing history.

Why wasn’t she saying anything? Those few seconds that followed after he finished his lengthy apology felt more like several standard rotations. If given the choice, he would have preferred her yelling or perhaps even attacking him if that would spare him from another moment of this torturous silence. When she did grant him that reprieve, his eyes flicked from the ground to meet her gaze again, and his posture opened a bit as relief washed over him.

Her words sounded familiar, and he knew that the only person he could have heard them from was Kalu Fec. But as he searched his memory for what meaning they carried, a lingering mental fog conceived from his mess of emotions ensured that he failed to recall more than two words. “Family and…value?” That didn’t sound quite right, but he was trying at least.

“I recognize them, yes,” his lips tightened pressed tightly together, “but I can’t recall what they mean.”

Another failure on his part.

He could tell how difficult it was for her to even say his clan’s name, yet she still offered words of sympathy and encouragement to one whom she barely knew in spite of the pain considering his ties caused her. In that moment, he offered silent thanks to the Ancestors for allowing him to meet so many who had chosen to treat him with kindness despite the unfamiliarity, despite his … complicated ties.

The Ancestors. His eternal link to the myriad Iridonians who had come before him. Bril knew more than most the significance of belonging to a lineage, and how that had an unshakably real ability to shape one’s lives – to shape the lives of one’s children, and their children’s children. To him and his kin, one’s blood did define them in many ways. How else would they know who they were?

His expression brightened in response to her kind words, taking on a pensive character as he pondered the juxtaposition of the Mandalorian adage and his own traditional beliefs. There was truth to both perspectives, and he would have to revisit them later in the hopes of finding common ground between them. Presently, he feared that his Clan allegiance held more sway over him than either of the two would care to admit.

The statement was clear to him, nonetheless, and he made sure she knew that. “Yes, I understand.”

“Awesome!” Zuza announced, stepping out with a tray of food. She had breathed her own sigh of relief at the revelations of the conversation.

But the food needed to get moving and this was comfortable enough now to interrupt.

She smiled, having the know to at least look sheepish as she raised the tray.

Bril buried his face in his hand, massaging his fingertips into his temples with a heavy sigh. Zuza couldn’t have had worse timing, and Minnie didn’t seem particularly interested in talking again. Shaking his head, he took the remaining plates in silence and carried them over to the picnic area. After setting them out, he glanced in the nautolan’s direction before averting his gaze and taking a seat, leaving enough room for Foxen and Flyndt in the likely event that they’d sit beside her.

At least the food looked good.

Karran squeezed slipped past Diy to get to the cooler. He knew that he had just packaged up some smoked bantha brisket the night before that would go exceptionally well with the eggs. All of that rolled in some jatá bread would be perfect. Some Tatooine Reaper chile sauce for anyone that liked spice would be great too.

“I hope everything is going smoothly out there. Bril being from Plagueis is definitely a set of eggshells I would not want to walk on.”

Diy stood up from her leaning back to stare at his ass at the comment. She takes her brain on the name, a clan name she assumed, trying to remember any details about them. Frankly, she could not but apparently they were a bunch of sithspits in some way from the eggshells comment.

“Plagues, eh? Well, long as he ain’t bad ‘n’ proves it, all that matters.” The faux-Zelosian dished up the last of the food, using the time between that and handing dishes to Zuza to think of how to pry a bit more intel. “Plagueis a name that the other group out there don’t like?”

“I agree. And I hope that Bril turns out to be as good of people as I believe. But no, Plagueis has only recently gotten out of the business of slaving.”

Karran could feel her gaze searing into him from behind.

“You know you can do more than stare, right?

Right, slavery. She could see how that would make a stink, her own fleeting frown was just a whisper of that. It quickly was chased away by the shit eating grin that followed his last comment.

Diy stepped closer, interrupting him shutting the cooler door, and squeezed his rear once. “But then how’d else we get food done? ‘N’ with guests?”

Standing on her tippy toes and stealing a kiss, she turned back to the counter. The faux-Zelosian gestured at the food, “Want me ta warm anything up?”

The near pouting look that responded to that laugh had dissolved as he took in the rare moment, crest rising lightly. Seeing those teeth in a smile and not growling at some opponent, it was always gave the Omwati pause. That moment shifted as the quiet roughness turned to hacking, and he winced with concern. The assurance and apology after nullified his worry, earning the Nautolan only a lingering look of consideration before the bird continue speaking.

How fortunate he had ceased talking when that large hand reached out, the faintest whisper of a touch, for he would of bit his tongue and been froze mute as the other man himself. Flyndt watched the movement silently, each gentle trace along what would have been the creases of his bare palm. His feathers fluttered, pressing low briefly before softening. It took the shorter man a second to note the movement of Foxen’s other hand, looking up to concentrate on their meaning. He nodded and handed over the datapad that had since sunk to his lap with his hand.

Curiosity, a desire to know what was on Foxen’s mind and having to wait, impatience ate at him. So he pulled his attention away to watch the source of a nearing mechanical sound he only just noticed. Tempted as he was to jump up and check out the small droid, he stilled himself to wait, hand still held under Foxen’s.

“Ah, I am familiar with that, others watching childs. Our people often did as much together as with parents,” Flyndt said after taking the pad again and reading a bit. He frowned, whether at the application of it towards adults or something else was not clear. However, his brow did furrow and beak clacked before a tak, them feathers giving way annoyance.

“I am not, hmm, obligated. I wanted to be with here, calm down with. Felt it too.” He argued, not taking kindly of being told what he felt or why he did things. That high flash of defensiveness, fear, protection had lingered after sensing it and it had stirred his own anxiety up. As much his curiosity and interest, questioning the trustworthiness of people took a lot out of him. “Still would, even if Drakor was under porch instead.”

His averted gaze fixed on the droid strongly instead of the thick-headed lummox for a moment. The Omwati shook his head, read the question, and finally glance over at the gesture. He swallowed at the reminder of any fight he witnessed – all of it was vile and crimes against sentiency – but their fight especially. He nodded with the recollection, his viewpoints above the stand with his arm in a sling as that aweful chuckle pierced the numb din of the arena.

“Yes.”

Karran produced the brisket. It was a small one compared to what he would have made for a large gathering. Only twenty pounds. He briefly considered reheating the entire thing, but decided against it and decided a few thick slices would likely suffice.

“Only this. I will warm the jatá bread in the pan. The eggs are the only other thing.”

He returned the kiss and smiled. For the moment all thoughts of any other partners, past, present, and future disappeared.

“We could always invite them?”

He smiled wider in a poodoo eating grin. It was a joke… mostly. But they had managed to gather quite the interesting group this morning. Could be fun

A huff of a sigh. Flyndt stares back at Foxen, barred feathers twitching. “Assumptions, what I think and feel. Only I know that,” he paused, adding afterwards, “and it was wrong.”

“Already got ‘em done,” Diy responded about the eggs as she took the brisket slices and got them heating on the gasser.

She laughed at the suggestion, mischief flashing in her eyes. “If any of 'em wanna play…” A pause and consideration, grin wavering a bit,“Well, most of them.”

Zuza cringed as the two seperated, Minnie sitting pointedly away from Bril and.. everyone. And Bril’s exasperation.

She stood on the porch for a few seconds, regretting the decision but unable to undo it.

Nipping back inside, she grabbed a final set of side dishes and headed for the blanket, a little too in her own head to notice the playful teasing going on between Diy and Karran, although probably for the best in terms of leaving them to enjoy the moment.

She started back out for the picnic blanket, Frond at heel.

In order to assuage the awkward tension he felt while they waited, Bril had buried his face in his datapad to review his recent studies. More material covering the history of Dathomir and its inhabitants. For the last few weeks, his voracious appetite for learning had been directed at learning more about his distant kin. Hopefully, that would provide him with a much-needed distraction. Another wayward glance went in Minnie’s direction before he planted his palm on the ground behind him to lean backward a bit, a more relaxed and comfortable position to wait in.

Putting his datapad away once Zuza, arrived, Bril offered her a gentle smile and offered her a spot near him.

Zuza placed the dish down before getting settled down herself, taking the proffered spot beside Bril with a smole and crossing her legs under her. She started to speak, and almost got knocked over as Frond tried to hop into her lap as if he was half the size he was.

With him settled with front paws in the gap, stomach on one knee and his head kn the other, zuza tried again with a slight note of exasperation, “Yeah he’s special.”

She snorted and shook her head, “but yes. He chose me, dunno how. Atty won’t tell me for kriff, just that he chose me. He’s called Frond. Like off of on of them Saffron plants.”

Of course, he’d noticed Minnie eyeing him from the other end of the blanket. Their eyes eventually met, but he didn’t say anything, instead hoping that his softened expression would convey that she didn’t have to be uncomfortable around him. She had assured him that he wasn’t merely the sum of his associations; hopefully, she actually believed that herself.

The affectionate cythraul forced a laugh out of him when he jumped in Zuza’s lap. “May I?” he asked her, while raising a hand, hoping to pet his head. “Is Frond partial to strangers?”

Zuza nodded in confirmation to the question of which Atty she was speaking of. “Yeah, Jax knows her. And yeah, he’s fine with strangers. If anything he’s too trusting, but he’s not quite old enough to work on that yet. Worst he’ll do is choose you as his next chair so long as you aren’t hurtin’ him.”

She leant back slightly, looking to Bril with a small grin, “Go ahead, he might lick ya so maybe grab a napkin while you’re at it.

“Noted,” Bril swiped a napkin from a stack to his left before extending his hand to pet Frond. Once the animal reciprocated, his smile widened, and he eventually committed to petting and massaging its face with both hands. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy? Yes you are!”

Frond did a little wufs at each question, as if saying “yes! me!” as his tail thumped against the ground behind him. His eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the attention.

Zuza laughed softly, leaning back on her hands and observing with amusement. She noticed Minnie and her pretty obvious want to join in, speaking as if discussing a conspiracy, “Come on, while he’s distracted.”

“Hrm.”

That deeper rumble echoed the Nautolan’s common expression as sunset eyes fixed on his.

An exhale and the Omwati’s gaze softened. He signed simply as he spoke, “It is okay, forgiven.”

Flyndt gave a small smile to farther demonstrate the apology was accepted. With his shoulders relaxing, he turned his attention to the droid and finally noticed the cups it balanced on a tray. Curiosity perked, but he tempered it and turned back to Foxen.

“You were saying something before, continue? Or,” he gestured at the droid, “We try their drinks, maybe rejoin? Or after talk?” his feathers lowered, “I would like to hear.”

Bril could get used to this. He hadn’t interacted with animals this closely since his childhood, and he was starting to think getting a pet wasn’t such a bad idea. He continued petting Frond, running his hand along his coat. “That’s a good boy.”

“One pet or two isn’t going to hurt anyone,” said Bril, who was giving the fluffer all the pets he could muster. He kept his eyes trained on the Frond despite addressing the nautolan. “He’s been away for a while, now. If it’s something you’d enjoy, than do it. The big guy is not going to hurt anyone here.”

Zuza had shrugged, letting the petting continue.

The terseness of her response made Bril shake his head. He continued petting Frond with one hand.

The grin was met with an small eager trill. Flyndt took the tray from the BD unit and set it carefully aside after Foxen had his fill. Debating between trying or examining the droid, he settled with the former, grabbing the remaining cup and raising it to his nose for a tentative sniff at the dark brown liquid. A waft of what he could only describe as rotten cabbage at first was inhaled, crinkling his nose. That original scent gave way to a more enticing full body earthy and roasted aroma. That did not seem half bad – suns, he sounded like his brother describing broth.

He took a sip.

And nearly spit. Nearly.

It was very bitter, he found – and bitter was a flavor he was used to. This was just odd, different. Unsure if he liked it or not, the Omwati took a few more sips, taking his time between them and examining the droid finally. The unit trilled and somewhat sidestepped the curious prodding. How Flyndt wished he could find out how it really worked, temptation rising to see the cogs and circuits inside.

Maybe the droid sensed the man’s intrigue, as it turned and skittered back towards the homestead proper, leaving the tray and cups behind for the organics to take care of.

Mild disappointment.

Short lived the feeling, replaced by an uneasiness as the Nautolan offered the datapad back to him. He tentatively accepted him, part of him realizing that now was the final chance to back out of the conversation, to avoid the disturbing experience he knew was likely accounted there. If it was anything like their shared time…

He said he wanted to know. That was true.

Steeling himself, the Omwati pressed forward. His gaze took in the text slowly, leather clad forefingers rubbing holes into the sides of the device. Shoulders stiff and beak worrying his inner cheek, he let the tablet sink into his crisscrossed lap. .

Despair, sorrow, grief welled in him at imagining the Nautolan having to face snapping teeth and ripping flesh for so many years. He wished he could have been there earlier, help free the man before he had to endure all of that. How though? He needed Foxen to help him get out, how could he have helped any? Powerless as he was, a rising sense of guilt. It gave way to disgust, revulsion. To hate and anger brewing dark and heavy.

If I ever return, that ‘lord’ will find himself on my blade.

Sunset eyes burned. The emotion he felt seemed to seep into the forest, drawing into the living Force, or the trees beyond the creek fed into his. For a moment, he was tempted by the draw to get up and just walk through those trees, seek solitude to process everything or just not have to and bath in his hatred of that place.

“Sorry,” Flyndt broke from that rumination and raised a thumb, wiping his cheek once and frowning at the wetness there. “I am, that went through that and the fear of beast is forced upon you by them. I wish–”

The Omwati cut himself off and took a breath, handing the pad over lest he drop and crack it. He shook his head, a spiked bush of red feathers coming loose from their tie, the ribbon just barely caught by hand. “If I can help or if they knew, may some understanding had, yes? We have no need see animals, keep distance. Drakor, I meet away from house. I will show him new roost. O.K.” He signed the letters.

Flyndt might of prodded to see if Foxen would be okay with that, want his suggestions, but the larger man’s question caught him off guard. Somewhat confused, he looked down at his hand and noticed the ribbon in his hand he hadn’t paid too much heed to.

‘Can I?’

“…Yes.”

The Omwati handed the hemp ribbon over and shifted to sit with his back towards Foxen, lower grey-blue feathers prickling slightly at the feeling of exposure. He pulled his silver tails over his shoulder, out of the way, then rested his hands on his knees with a easing deep breath.

The gentle combing through feathers felt nice and Flyndt reflexively relaxed even farther. The negative energy he felt moments prior slowly dissipated with each ginger swipe. His head tipped back slightly and closed his eyes with the careful tending. A few strands of those crimson striped feathers did flex while the Nautolan worked, keeping up and free of the gathering – tethering those tending to create a headache from tugging taunt in his expressing.

Tang, tang.

He answered the metallic knocking with a light coo of his own, sunset gaze opening and peering up at Foxen over his shoulder in an angle that most near-human’s would find uncomfortable. Flyndt spotted his lips moving and wasn’t entirely sure what was said but it might have been ‘thank you’? Twisting where he sat, he lightly rested a hand on the other man’s forearm as he reached for the datapad again.

“Hoo, thank you,” he said, gesturing with his right hand flat from his chin forward.

Movement from the house to those gathering for food caught his eye, and a canine. A debating hum escaped him, but he still turned to Foxen to ask, “Would you like try joining them? They do…there is a creature with them though…”

Zuza looked to Bril, but decided to leave them be and just focus on the actual question.

“Mainly this muffin, but I do like animals, birds especially but in general too. Never thought of having pet, but it’s working out.”

Click went the gasser as Diy flicked the heat off and expertly slid the reheated brisket slices onto a platter. She could smell the mix of spices and honestly it almost made her want to try a nibble. Grabbing the dish and a couple small things that would fit in the crook of her arm, she gently hip checked the Zabrak chef.

“Imma take these out. Ya got the jatá ‘n’ chile?” she smiled and waited for the affirmative, “A'right, I’ll see ya out here, Horns.”

And with that, she sauntered outside. Blue-green eyes didn’t take long to find the trio gathered on the rug, and Frond somehow not knocking over anything with that fluffer thumping. She joined them, keeping quiet to listen to the tail end of the convo – apparently about the goodest boi. Setting her load down with the rest of dishes, she took a seat somewhere between Zuza and Minnow, giving the latter a nod and smile.

Was he really that bad at speaking to people? Or was it just her that he seemed to have trouble with? Bril pondered the nature of his interactions with Minnie thus far, and how they’d soured after he opened up to her about where his loyalties lay. Although he felt like he’d ultimately done the right thing, he couldn’t help but feel foolish for making himself vulnerable to someone he barely knew - especially with the hindsight of knowing that that had backfired. Perhaps, he wouldn’t be so generous with the details he shared in the future.

The depth of his musing kept him from noticing Diy until she sat with them. Returning to the present, he gave her a nod and slight smile before lowering his gaze again.

Slow, full breaths carried the familiar scent of spiced meat into his nose. A smile, wider this time with a trace of longing, crept onto his visage. “That smells like home,” he said to no one in particular, “Ah'yemat coila res'bataa'i.”

It wasn’t until he received a perplexed look or two from the women seated from him that he realized that he’d slipped into speaking Zabraki. He laughed a little while rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Felt like I was back on Iridonia for a second,” he said before providing a translation of his words, “A gift for the heart. It’s an Iridonian way of describing something that is greatly appreciated or cherished. It seems that Karran has prepared for us a traditional zabrak meal.”

Diyrian returned Bril’s smile and was pleased to get one back from Minnie, even if both seemed not quite the most genuine or full. She sat on that for a few seconds, noting the body language mostly between the two fresh acquaintances. A brush of fingers against rough carpet threads gave wisps of awkwardness, regret, and frustration. Not exactly the spicy mix she preferred.

Golden shoulders rolled as Diy leaned back in her crosslegged sit, getting comfortable as she listened to them speak, some degree of smile on her lips through the journey.

“No worries,” she waved the Zabrak’s apology off, “We a multi-lingal home, ain’t that surprisin’ to hear some tongue at times.” A pause. Phrasing. “Yer words sounded familiar, twas nice.”

She tilted her head towards Minnie, gathered green curls flopping with the motion. “Oh, don’t thank me, all Horn’s work with the meat there. Does smell so good, wish I could try a bit.”

She sat up and grabbed a piece of lettuce to munch on though instead.

Karran exited the house with a stack of jatá in one hand and the jar of salsa in the other. For a moment, the stack of warm, thin flatbreads looked as though they might fall over, but with a quick recovery he made it to the group.

“Tatooine reaper. Very hot.” He gestured to the jar of puréed peppers.

“Otherwise, please, help yourselves.”

Finally, he allowed himself to recline on the blanket next to Diy, doing his best to not take up too much room.

“Why make something if not to share it? Food, my home. It is all worthless without people.”

Karran debated how much of his work with the Lotus he should share.

“My organization, outside of the clan, does a lot of work with the people. A network that helps people get out of…bad situations.”

Bril nodded to Diy, “I’m sure Karran has used it before. It’s a very common expression.”

When Karran finally arrived, he offered him a nod, “Thank you for the meal, my friend. It looks - and smells - amazing.”

He’d never had a Tatooine Reaper before, but as a lover of spicy foods, the prospect of trying it excited him. Although the food was ready for him to eat, he didn’t start just yet. Instead, he waited for the others to begin eating before he did.

When Minnie moved slightly closer, he shifted to sit on his shins to give her a little more space. He was of a larger stature, after all, so he was aware that he tended to take up a bit more space than most.

Karran’s mention of his work caught his interest. “That sounds like something I would be interested in,” he admitted, hesitating for just a moment to glance at Minnie before returning his attention to his zabrak friend. “My time on Aliso has been … enlightening, but not in a good way. The people there live very difficult lives, and I would like to help them. I just don’t know how to start.”

The omwati watched the angle of Foxen’s head and assumed he was looking that way too, to the house. Crest ticking lightly to that grunt. Blind to time, he didn’t know how long it was until that datapad made way to his hands again, gaze gliding over the text.

His skimming finger froze on the middle paragraph. Feathers twitched, his earlier sentiment, wishes echoed back. For him. Flyndt swallowed, sunset eyes meeting sanguine briefly before shifting to the woods across the stream for a moment. The feelings that welled up he could not make heads of.

Grateful, as Foxen wrote. Out of the knotted mix, he felt that for sure.

O.K.

“Yes,” Flyndt nodded slowly, looking back up to Foxen with a fleeting but there and thankful smile. He took a deep breath before setting the device aside securely on the flat rock face they sat on. A glance to the water, then back to the Nautolan.

“I will help keep dry as you wash?” The Omwati touched his feathered tails in indication before scrubbing his fists together as he spoke.

A knowing expression appeared on his face as Minnie spoke, and he nodded in appreciation of the advice she gave. “Thank you for that, Minnow,” he said, “I’ll keep that in mind when I return. It sounds like you have some experience with this kind of thing?”

“Jaxxie, huh? Seems like a good man. I would love to meet him one day. I’m sure we would have a lot to talk about. Is he your older brother, as well?” he asked, his interest piqued. “Now that you mention it, if you’re ever in the mood for a little adventure, I could use a pilot to get me from place to place to conduct research. Shelling out credits whenever I find a lead on my archaeological research has quickly become expensive, far too expensive for my budget, I’m afraid.”

He paused to have a bite of the brisket, which created an explosion of flavor on his tongue. Crystal eyes flared with new life, and he hummed contentedly to himself while he ate. Once he was finished, he addressed Minnie again.

“It would be fun, if you could put up with me, of course.” He offered a gentle smile, extending a hand in a tentative gesture to pat the top of Minnie’s, having noticed the hold she had on her vambraces.

“Yes, it is delicious, though I’m curious about this Tatooine reaper,” he said while looking to Karran, grabbing a piece of flatbread that he could dip into the chile. “How does it fair in comparison to the zabrak chiles?”

“Scientifically? Roughly four to five times the strength, depending on the season.”

Karran watched. Waiting. This would be the true measure of Bril’s strength. He reminisced about the time he and Ruka had gone head to head eating peppers. The reaper had broken them both. Each of them had ended up with their head under the refresher, desperate for water.

Zuza nibbled a piece of brisket, happily vibing while Frond started to nap again. It was hard work growing so damn big so quickly. And the lack of attention was very boring.

“Aye, vegetarian,” Diy winked back, then paused as if considering to add to that, a half-grin pulling on her lips. She turned it instead to Karran as he came to sit, scooting over more towards Minnow – to both make room for him and keep beside the newcomer. She finished the last bite of lettuce and started fashioning a wrap of her own, jatá bread, lettuce, eggs, and a Tatooine Reaper pepper nestled in the middle. Perfect.

The faux-Zelosian thankfully took a bite into the loaded wrap, hand coming up to cover mouth in case a bit of egg fell in the process. She chewed and embraced the heat building on her tongue as blue-green eyes went from the smaller Zabrak man to the Nautolan. She was tempted to pipe up and offer help with the man’s planet aid interest but decided to set it aside, share it later or hell, grab his comms and talk shop sometime. While she’s working on becoming official with the AEF navy, the call of the good ol’ days smuggling did rear its heads sometimes. What better use then for good, eh?

Truthfully, she didn’t say sithspit because the pair seemed to be trying to work out civility between them – and boy did the gears click in place. An ex-slave Mando chatting with a fresh face Plagueian. She took another bite and blindly grabbed her caf.

The bit about her knowing Atyiru’s and, eh, Settgré’s Jax as a brother was mildly interesting. Diy set her mug down with a smile to Minnie as the lads talked peppers.

“Oh? Ya know Jax? Didn’t know how far the family thing went for the Erinos. That make Socks, Eevie, ‘n’ L'ara sisters, yeah?” She didn’t bother clarifying that the hybrid-Zygerian was not a Nautolan to Bril, and listed only the few Mando names she remembered and cared about. “Haven’t met L'ara too much, Zuza’s had more time with her. Seems fun though.”

“She seems very keen to slap me, but yeah she’s cool. Good laughs and kicks ass on mission.” Zuza commented idly, smiling and watching the group of those who were considering the spice challenge.

“We talkin’ a slap, or a slap-slap?” Diy replied cheekily.

At the poor Nautolan’s aggressive reaction to the pepper, Karran quickly produced a pitcher of milk originally intended for the drinks and poured a quick cup for the girl.

“I am sorry. I should have given you fair warning.”

Diyrian chuckled at Minnie’s talking up L'ara, honestly sounded like her sentiment with gal pals and such. Jeanie, Sera, Zuza, Luka, hell, too many to count. The faux-Zelosian’s smile paused, think dark brows rising with curiosity at the lady knowing her from somewhere.

“Hmm?”

And then the Nautolan keeled over.

And the reaper pepper claimed another one…

Diy winced a smile and passed the glass of milk on down to Minnie, “Here, should cool things down for ya.”

Speaking of her own throat was starting to feel the kick of the pepper a bit too much. Diyrian grabbed her caf and quietly held it out to Karran, gesturing with her forefinger and thumb, just a little bit of milk.

Karran obliged as he dabbed his own forehead. This batch had turned out a bit spicier than the last.

Bril listened intently to the conversations happening around him, taking careful note of the different names that each of them mentioned and discussed. It brought him a little relief to see Minnie relax a little, and he mirrored her nod. Maybe was a start. He popped the salsa-covered jatá into his mouth, savored the taste for a bit, and swallowed. As she continued, it made him happy to see how excited she was to talk about her fellow Mandalorians; it was clear that they meant a lot to her.

Things were going well until she tasted the salsa. Whereas Bril had a mild response to the peppers within it, Minnie reacted … poorly, to say the least. Moving her plate out of the way, he kneeled next to her with a bemused look on his face, unsure of what he could do to help. He was feeling the heat himself, but he supposed he was just more used to it given his choice of cuisine. “It certainly takes some getting used to. Remember not touch your face. Especially not your eyes,” he said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder while she rode out the pain.

Frond raised his head as Minnie start spluttering and crying. He whined a little, looking at Zuza but then slowly, as if doing something he knew was a bad thing to do, the cythraul started to crawl across the ground.

Keeping low to the ground, and moving slowly, the pup made his way over to Minnie, going around to her back and resting his head on her side and slumping down against the Nautolan.

Zuza watched, it was hard to not notice the heavy weight of him wandering off, but other than keeping an eye allowed him to do so.

He cracked a grin when she picked herself up from the ground and handed her a napkin. “It gets easier the more of it you eat,” he informed, “Though in your case, I would probably start with smaller portions. Not much of a spicy food kind of gal, I take it?”

Reaching his hand out to pet Frond on the head, he smiled, “That’s a good boy, helping your new friend.”

Frond wiggled as she got up, avoiding the vomit with more agility than one may expect, and readjusting to now make Minnie into his chair.

Zuza had warned them.

His tail began thumping again, smacking Bril who had gotten too close.

“I haven’t had much fish myself,” Bril admitted, “But it sounds like it would be good. Though, I’d probably be adding similar spices to mine, hah.” He reached for his own glass of milk and handed it to the Mandalorian woman. Now that she had regained her composure, having a nice glass of milk to wash away any remnants of the chillis would serve her well.

After that, he looked to Karran to see how he was fairing with the salsa. “You weren’t lying about that. It was quite a bit hotter than anything back home. And this isn’t even the raw pepper. Do you have any more of these in the kitchen?” If his friend would oblige, he would love to take some of these back to Aliso with him. Bril was never one to pass up on an opportunity to add a new food staple to his diet.

He made a face at the energetic pupper, reaching out to rub his head while his tail smacked against him. It was a bit uncomfortable but the bestest boi would get a pass from him, of course.

The avian had crouched and loosened the ties on his telek'vaine‘s, the leg sleeves over his pants, pulling them up to his knees and tucking loose lilac-brown fabric into it. He had paused mid undoing his sandals to count the blades emptied by the larger man, nearly giving a small pleased trill that he himself had almost the same amount tuck into his clothes now. Or maybe he did make a sound, Foxen glancing his way.

“Better to wade in some, you can get deeper?” Flyndt explained simply, setting his shoes neatly aside to the nautolan’s pile.

Following Foxen silently with his gaze as the man submerged to his waist, Flyndt joined him in the shallower waters of the rocks, carefully holding the injured tendril. Eyes wandered over the rolling coil of shoulder and back muscles until the Omwati realized he was staring, pulling his gaze away to look at the woods or anything that was not going to witness the peachy hue rising on his olive skin. As soon as the mandalorian indicated he was finished and coming out, Flyndt was skirting back to dry land with a cough to grab his sandals. When he straightened up, his sunset gaze stalled heavily on water streaming down slick, mottled black skin.

A sandal fell. Soft thump onto stone.

Flyndt grabbed it swiftly and feigned adjusting the straps on it, not that he intended to wear them till his calves dried but it was something to do with his hands.

Knives nestled back into place, weapons and the datapad, shirt rung out and donned. He looked up from his fidgeting.

And bit back a chuffing hoot.

“Sorry…is, hoo, do not have to wear, all torn as is?” Flyndt asked, gesturing lightly at the damp blouse crop-top.

Sipping on her now milk spiked caf, Diyrian reached out and moved any dishes from the thumping tail and excited paws. She smiled as the two newcomers pet the canine, though her glance for a moment drifted away to check on the other two.

Finishing the last of her wrap, and dousing her tongue after, the faux-Zelosian turned back to Minnie or Frond’s knew chair and friend.

“Before the reaper claimed ya, ye were talkin’ about knowin’ me somewhere?”

Flyndt was about to say it looks silly, not seeing the point of a long sleeve that leaves midriff free, but the Nautolan wore clothes for fashion, much like the Omwatiis in the cities. Maybe a cropped top was desirable?

He gave another passing glance, “Hrm…no, I think? I,” his lips pursed with a slight huff and he waved the matter off, “No, no, it is fine. We go join others? Hungry?”

Frond, wtih Minnie being distracted, took the chance to lick her hand and wrist, trying to bring her attention back to the Correct Person Here.

The Cythraul was pleased, and sat happily with his tongue lulling out and continuing to beat Bril with his tail.

Zuza chuckled, but continuing eating her notably non-spicy food options.

As he continued to eat his food, Bril hummed quietly to himself. It was a melodic tune, mimicking the plurality of tones found in his native tongue. The conversation between Minnie and Diyrian seemed personal, so he kept quiet; he didn’t want to intrude, after all.

Frond, on the other hand, seemed like he was absolutely starved for attention, and he decided to help his little buddy out by petting his head again. “My sister would absolutely adore you, I'shur'ul-nuin.” he said cheerfully, ending his sentence in Zabraki. My large friend.

That…wasn’t at all what she expected to hear. The memories from that time swirled back in a haze, she rather not relive. Her skin pricked across her abdomen, faint feeling of thin, sharp durasteel there. That gold choker she used to have. Diy shifted in her seat, shoulders stiffening but she managed to put up a solemn smile and nod – and if she pressed slightly more into Karran’s side, so be it.

“Happy to’ve been able to help, them…” Finally noticing the handshake, she accepted, not even thinking upon skimming those rings or the bracers, bracers that don’t match her outfit and had to be hot in the sun. That hitch in the other woman’s voice earlier gave her suspect of a shared experience between them. So she let her hand fall afterwards, only taking notes of two matching rings, one large on her right thumb and another smaller on the same hand. The Kiffar took a deep breath and glanced to the Zabrak beside her, what would Karran do?

“If ya ever want to talk about it, sometime, welcome to,” She gave a light smile and tried offering a subject switch while at it, “Ya work at the Blind Mouse then? I need to come ‘n’ get a better legacy there then ‘Trampoline Jumper’.”

“I’ve heard of them, yes, but I’ve yet to try one. It sounds like fun, though.”

Bril noticed Minnie shift in front of him. Wondering why, he lifted his gaze, and stopped himself from taking another bite of paté when he noticed Flyndt and Foxen approaching. It was nice to know that she was considering his well-being to some degree. Normally, he would have said something about it, but he was sure that him flirting with her with her brother present wasn’t the best use of his mortality.

Once it was his turn to be scrutinized by the Nautolan’s hawkish gaze, Bril maintained an aloof expression.

Thoroughly disinterested in the tense atmosphere that the man brought to their pleasant picnic, he lifted a piece of brisket from his plate and turned to Frond, offering the hound the tasty treat with a radiant smile on his face. He really needed to get a cythraul of his own - if such a thing was possible. He needed to ask Ruka about that later.

As soon as it was obvious the brisket was being offered, it was gone.

Zuza laughed, spotting Foxen and Flyndt and deciding the best action was to not stop and stare. She smiled in return, nodding in greeting when Foxen tried to stare through her soul, and then speaking to Bril, “Don’t give him the brisket, he won’t savour it. He’d eat the whole thing if I told him he could.”

They were going to run out of napkins. Bril used plenty of them himself to rid his hand of the coat of saliva that Frond left on it after he devoured the piece of brisket he’d offered him.

He laughed at Zuza’s comment and nodded, “That’s something we have in common, then. I’d savor it, but I think I could eat it all, as well.”

A few scritches behind Frond’s ear would serve as a good enough apology, right? “Sorry buddy, mama’s word is law.” He paused, contemplating the phrasing of that sentence. “Your mama, not mine.”

Frond paused, ears falling back as he realised the hand held no more treat. He embraced the loves Bril was giving, and then looked at Zuza with the saddest puppy sad eyes he could muster.

She deadpan-stared down the pup, inside breaking but Marick had been firm on training routine.

Feeling the grass underfoot was freeing, talons digging into the dirt and the closeness of the earth. It was a pleasant idle relief as Flyndt debated how to approach the ackward reintroducing, standing aside of Foxen as the others talked and only nodding to Minnie’s address and the human’s acknowledgement.

The Nautolan’s sister drew his attention to the larger man and he glanced up to meet those sanguine eyes, looking away to scan about the group swiftly before back – completely missing the hulking form of a Reek encroaching on the picnic.

O.K.? Sit?

The Omwati was not confident with the latter sign and chose to demonstrate by action, kneeling down short of a meter behind Minnow – unknowingly missing the chili induced vomit. A few crimson feathers fluffed out and resettled before he dipped head to the others.

“Sorry for misunderstanding, for mistaken identity as enemy. Admit was uncertain and on edge,” Flyndt spoke, his light voice ringing with a songbird’s vibrato deepened with sincerity. He raised his head, settling on giving those gathered an open consideration and chance, as they had been seemingly understanding…maybe. Earlier still felt like a transgression he hoped they could move past.

“Hoo, I am Flyndt. You are?” He glanced to the smaller Zabrak who still dwarfed him, human, and near-human with a small smile.

Diyrian mentally whistled as Foxen drew up. Tall, broad shoulders, rolling mass of muscles. In all tense and purposes, he definitely fell into one of her types.

But he broke Karran’s legs, and stabbed a guest.

‘I’ll play nice…’

Ugh.

A small grin played on her lips as she nodded to that intense observing gaze, she herself examining him. Plenty of visible weapons, tense shoulders but clear restraint, a impromptu crop top that somehow hung just right on him? No, focus, the enemy, er, new acquaintance. It didn’t seem like he was going to react negatively. If he did, well, she reckoned Karran and Bril would tackle him or try. She make a break for house for her guns, and Zuza had a knife. Surely go fine.

Completely leaving out Flyndt and Minnow from the occasion.

Diy sighed into her drink and noted the avian finally relaxing somewhat. Interesting alian that one, don’t think she’s seen one quite like him. If it wasn’t the distance between them and the Nautolan looming over them, she’d be keen on shaking mits, er, hands. Not addressing the situation she did not witness, she nodded and replied.“Diyrian, but ya can call me Diy.”

Bril only averted his gaze from Foxen to momentarily take note of how the others present reacted to his arrival. Diyrian had looked back at the towering Nautolan with the same scrutinizing gaze that he’d used, and in that moment, Bril understood that she was more than willing to hold her own should their second meeting turn violent. Diy’s assumption of a more relaxed posture and Minnie’s playful acknowledgement of the sneaky reek, which he hadn’t noticed until now, encouraged him to relax a little himself.

His eyes fell to the Omwati, Flyndt, and he dipped his head in polite greeting, “Call me Bril. It’s a pleasure to meet you in … calmer circumstances. Are you hungry? The food is oen'kayifii, delicious. But I would be careful with the salsa, Karran made it extra spicy.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked to Minnie again with a playful smile, “Minnow learned that the hard way, I’m afraid. But she recovered well, thankfully.” His gaze lingered there for a moment, before he looked behind her at the other Nautolan.

Not one to be rude despite the way the two first met, Bril addressed Foxen while gesturing toward the food. “Feel free to have whatever looks good to you,” he said, his tone and posture notably more reticent in character whenever he addressed Minnie’s brother. He was trying, at least, but he didn’t enjoy feeling like he had to walk on eggshells around him, and that showed in the subtle ways his demeanor changed in the midst of the conversation.

The zabrak quirked an eyebrow at the man’s response, paused to ruminate his words, and then nodded to convey his understanding. His lips pulled into a toothy grin, and he shook his head while rubbing the back of his neck. “Quite the presumptuous one, aren’t you?” Bril replied, a thread of derisive amusement carried in his tone. He had tried to be polite, but it seemed like the larger of the two men was determined to be a kokay. Well, if that’s where he wanted to take it, then he had no qualms about taking it there.

“I never said anything about giving a pajfiit about whether you cared about me or not. It’s cute that you felt the need to point that out, though. While you sit there and pretend like you’re tough shit, I was just trying to make you feel a bit more comfortable for Minnie’s sake.”

A mocking yawn punctuated his words; then, he continued, “Next time, jendonis, save yourself the effort and stay home. That way these nice folks won’t have to worry about you breaking your leash.”

“Ay! Tsk!”

Karran got an oversized stick and made a motion as if he were throwing it a long distance. Except he didn’t.

Baby stood and took off into the woods to chase after the stick.

“She is smart enough to remember that she is looking for it, but just slow enough to stay looking for it for an hour or so.”

Karran’s face soured.

“Apologize, Bril. All are welcome here. Never judge a man until you have walked the same sand. You know that.”

He liked Bril, but the comment was out of line. Especially to someone who had escaped slavery. He had no desire to choose sides, but at this moment, the scale was tipped against the other Zabrak.

Zuza looked at Bril, with an expression of disappointment. She didn’t know the guy, but hot damn he literally swung the lowest he frakking could didn’t he.

The Human sat up, expecting to have to fix some issuenimmienntly, gaze intently on Bril and making sure he backed the KRIFF up or he was about to get dragged back to the house bt the ear bent over backwards at the angle her neck usually was.

Frond whined as he was dumped, and tried to sit on her feet. It had worked earlier.

Flyndt had looked away from the thundering footsteps of the reek disappearing into the woods to catch the flash of large hands speaking too quick for him to follow. He waited for Minnow’s translation, a slight frown on his face as he replayed the words back to himself. Brutally honest as always, it would not come off polite nor intended to be. The omwati glanced back at Foxen, nudging quietly with a look – not asking the man to change his views or not speak his truth but word choice, maybe?

A sigh. Facing forward, he half regarded the presented food spread, though his ears and attention were honed for Bril’s response. Silver-laced feathers bristled at his nape as the Zabrak punctuated his words with foreign phrases, earning the man only a glance or two. It was not unreasonable he found offense, while Flyndt tensed and wishes the they both would not, he stayed out of it–

“–your leash.”

Sunset eyes snapped to Bril, dark lilac hues with a flash of fiery sun, unblinking save the pale clear membrane passing briefly even as Minnie jolted to her feet and screeched. The Omwati rocked onto the balls of his feet, staying crouched while his beak locked behind pursed lips, brow furrowed. The hard work leather of his sandal was rough in his clenched hand. He almost asked the man to repeat it, but apparently he hadn’t misheard.

“Élenwhi’s cenda'le,” He gestured two fingers to the sky, a saying of warning particular to just his small people.

“I would not say again,” referring to the offense. His gaze broke to look at the homesteader intervening, which tempered his anger a fraction – was it anger? His skin crawled and plumage itched, that crimson striped crest raised. “Not wish to say same to you. He is here because I came here, concerned, I did not share intent when left. So turn your ire towards me.” .

He half realized how ridiculous it was to ask the man who was stabbed by Foxen to redirect his anger. And at the same time, still did not realize everything fully behind the ‘he followed me’ bit.

Flyndt waited for the Zabrak’s response, his hand falling to hover slightly to the side before Foxen.

Imagine them expecting **you* to apologize when you have every right to defend yourself.*

A voice, familiar to him in sound and cadence yet unshakably alien in the indignant tone and presence it carried, crept from the sub-liminal border of his mind and into his awareness.

You were the one who was assaulted, judged, and disrespected, yet you’re the one who is admonished?

A cogent argument, if he’d ever heard one - one left to resonate in his mind as the group made their displeasure clear. As more honeyed words came to him, those around him with the gift of Force sensitivity would notice the abrupt change in Bril’s aura. What had thus far been a mellow presence twisted into one that was resentful and venomous. His crystal blue eyes snapped to Karran first, and for a brief moment, his irises turned a sickly green reminiscent of the caustic flows of their home planet.

Now that he thought about it, why hadn’t they said more about what had happened earlier? Done more? His non-reaction was no excuse for their insouciance on the matter. Based on the Nautolan’s own admission, he doubted that Foxen would care about what he’d said and look how they’d reacted to that. Minnie and Flyndt he could understand, but Karran? Bril glanced to the man’s leg, the one that he broke, then back to his face. That noxious green color flashed in his eyes again. The Plagueian bridled at this supposed betrayal, but he said nothing in response to his chides.

As he rose to feet, Zuza took a slight step in front of him, gazing at him with the same disapproving eyes that the others had. She must have thought he couldn’t handle himself. He didn’t fear them. He didn’t fear any of them, and he had no reason to. Still, engaging them right now wasn’t wise. He was no fool.

I would not say that again.

Although the Omwati fellow’s threat hadn’t provoked much more than a cutting glance, he took note of it and the subtle shift of his hand in front of the largest of those present.

-

After a brief examination of Diy’s response, he allowed his gaze to settle upon Minnie, who had responded with the most anger out of all those present. The woman was practically frothing at the mouth, and some twisted part of him was amused by it. But as he gave her his full attention and saw the rage – the hurt – that showed on her face and body, a pang of guilt cut through the smog of resentment and anger that lingered in his mind. Pieces of their previous conversation, of how she had shown him kindness when he had no reason to at that point, rose to the surface. At first, he scowled when the memories appeared, for with them came that feeling of unspoken embarrassment that he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable in the first place; however, seeing the woman react in the way she had, and hearing the way she shouted his words back at him, caused him to falter. His indignant scowl crumbled, and an expression of remorse took its place.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he admitted. The noxious aura was beginning to fade, though this was taking longer than his eyes did. After all, he was still watching. How could he bring himself to apologize to him when he had offered none of his own? He could not. He would not.

“I let my emotions get the better of me, and I crossed a line that I never should have crossed. For that, I’m sorry, Minnow.”

He turned to Foxen with a sigh, and though he didn’t offer an apology outright, he did offer as much as he could allow himself to in that moment, “What was done to you was a grave injustice. I don’t care if you don’t care what I’m saying to you, but I had no right to use your past against you.”

Looking to the others, he apologized for the way the breakfast had turned out and thanked them for the food. Then, he excused himself and turned to begin walking toward the edge of a distant tree line. He needed to clear his head.

Karran put up a hand to discourage anyone from following.

“He is Zabrak. He is likely as stubborn and hard-headed as me. I believe the Force will guide him on the path he needs to follow.”

He took a sip of his tea and spoke the next sentence under his breath.

“And hydration is always important before a fight.”

Bril had apologised. It wasn’t.. okay still but he recognised the wrong at least. His anger was understandable, but as the younger of the two Zabraki here walked away, she looked around.

Minnie went to start an honour duel. Foxen was delaying but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. A Zabrak and a Mando in a duel like that? A short shiver ran through her at the idea.

Karran suggested staying put and hands were flying between the mando trio.

Well, she was rarely good at doing what she was told.

People shouldn’t be alone.

Zuza turned from the group and walked after Bril. She made no haste on it, hands in her pockets as she went. It wouldn’t be hard to find Bril even if she lost sight of him, it wouldn’t be the Mercenary’s first time following tracks. And the angered stomping made for easy tracking. Although, short of the tree line and still in sight, Bril came to a stop.

That made it easier, although Zuza stopped some feet away, going to the side so the distance was still there. She sat down, close enough to talk but not so close where he’d have to.

She knew he got hurt earlier. This was something for him to ride out.

Bril stopped at the edge of the tree line and released a well-needed sigh. His shoulders felt heavy, as did his mind. It was like there was a durasteel blanket on top of him that he couldn’t shake off. How had things gone south this quickly? Limbs tingled with the frantic energy of adrenaline born from his brief flirtation with the Dark Side, which still whispered in dulcet tones from the edges of his mind, beckoning him to give in again. He recalled Ruka’s warnings to him on their way over. …be careful, ay? Connections to power like that ain’t always everything.

Sound advice, but far easier said than done, he was starting to understand. Even more so because he hadn’t intentionally drawn on the power of the Dark; it merely saw an opportunity and seized it. And what had come of it? He could still hear Minnow shouting in the distance.

…We can teach you control, I'shur'pelire…

‘My beloved.’ He didn’t know why it came as a surprise to him that it would use his own language against him. And yet despite now having a taste of how potentially dangerous its allure was, his temptation didn’t waver. Not just a temptation to give in, but to conquer it. To show it that he would teach it about control, instead.

His musings came to an abrupt end when he felt the presence of another behind him. At first, he expected to see a firecracker of a little Nautolan coming to exact her revenge, to defend her brother’s honor; he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see that it wasn’t her.

“I’m fine, Zuza,” he said while staring forward, though he sounded like he was trying more to convince himself of that statement’s truth more than her.

Zuza paused, looking over to him. He clearly wasn’t, but he wasn’t really telling her that.

So, in a soft tone that offered little but presence, she simply said, “Okay.”

And started pulling up some particularly long blades of grass to try and knit them into a bracelet or.. something. Zuza didn’t know him well enough to start talking about feelings, or trying to pull anything out of him direclty.

She wouldn’t want to tell a stranger all of that. If he did, that was okay, but she wasn’t going to ask him to say things he might not even be ready to say to himself yet.

So, she waited for whatever he would say, glancing up periodically to keep an eye on him and at least the movements of people back at the picnic blanket.

Bril’s eyes drifted to the ground, and he kicked at a small patch of dirt sitting amongst a blanket of green in a futile attempt to assuage his growing discomfort with the silence. That damned silence. Wasn’t this what he wanted? After all, he hadn’t requested the Human woman’s presence, and wouldn’t even look at her as she sat there. Yet … a stirring in his chest followed by a sense of relief? No, solace.

“I’m going to have to apologize to him, aren’t I?” he said in a flat tone, though there were traces of remorse that twinkled through. “For her sake. For her forgiveness.”

It was only when the subject of his concerns shifted from Foxen to Minnie that his tone softened, though he pretended like he didn’t notice it.

“You already did. For what you said at least.” Zuza replied, dropping a piece of grass that had snapped under her weaving.

She paused, considering before speaking again, “She might forgive you if you said it again. When there’s less anger between you two. But would you mean it anymore than what you already said? And… well. I get wanting to be a people person but why do you want her forgiveness? I’m not saying you shouldn’t but it’s not like you’ve known her more than an hour and you’ve already argued twice and, if I heard correctly earlier, been stabbed by her brother. That’d put me off, and I am.. not an easy person to put off.”

He paused for a moment, considering her question. Why did he care about her forgiveness? Normally one who had an answer to most questions or at least a way to arrive at one, Bril’s silence was as clear an indication as any that Zuza had stumped him. And he knew that, but he had no intention of admitting that to her. Had it really been that short a period of time? It felt like it had been so much longer, though, he supposed that’s what tended to happen when so much drama happened back-to-back.

A scoff and him throwing up a dismissive hand were his answer. “Stop making so much sense, Zuza.”

Zuza snorted, “There’s a few people who’s jaws’d drop hearing that.”

She dropped the failed attempt at a grass bracelet. A slight shit eating smile crossed her face.

“I get she’s cute, but is she that cute?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it.” She’d even managed to get a smile out of him, and he gave her an appreciative nod. “Thanks for checking on me, Zuza,” he said.

When she mentioned how cute Minnie was, he cracked a grin while tucking his hands behind his back. That was certainly an understatement. “That little pur'devsta'ka is that and then some,” he admitted with a chuckle, “By the way, I heard what you said earlier. Which pretty one, ay?”

“I’m taken before you get any ideas. But I can appreciate what’s being put down.” Zuza commented, her own posture relaxing as his did. Sometimes all people needed was a long enough moment hanging out to work things out.

Cole had been a great practise of that when they were still friends. Sometimes hours, just sat together in silence before he’d mumble whatever it was.

The smile saddened slightly, but still shone true, “I’m glad I’m able to help.”

He nodded. “I was listening when you mentioned it earlier. Just teasing you, is all.”

Bril stepped over to her and extended his hand in a fist bump. “I appreciate you,” he said, “Don’t tell anyone you stumped me, though.”

Zuza shifted, sitting up a little and completed the fist bump.

Standing, she brushed grass off of her butt, “I make no promises.” Her expression darkened, recallng a certain detail of his outburst. “About that at least. Your eyes, I’ll keep quiet about. Only ever seen that happen with dark users. I dunno if you know, but they went bright green Bril. I’m sure if you know Ruka, you’ll have heard all the warnings you need so I won’t go on… but yeah.”

She looked concerned, more than anything, for the Zabrak.

His expression became more serious when she mentioned his eyes. Although he didn’t mention it directly, he gave her a knowing look and nodded in appreciation of her words. “We’ve talked about it, yeah. I’ve … been through some things,” he left it at that, not caring to share any more details about his recent history for the time being. “Still trying to work out what that means for me - how I’ve changed. But I’ll be careful.”

Not wanting to let this somber mood persist, he offered an encouraging smile. “I’m a tough guy, though.”

“Oh, when you get back, tell Minnie that if she has words, to come find me.”

He contemplated his choice of words and shook his head. “In a less threatening way, please.”

Zuza nodded, returning the smile but still concerned.

“Will do. Don’t stay out here too long.”

With that, the Human wandered off towards the picnic again.

The Omwati did not respond.

Not right away.

Everything around him was a muddled din, there was no reaction to even Minnow shouting in his ear. His mind was elsewhere as he stared heavily after the retreating black-robed jeditt by the shadows of the trees – shadows that seemed unnaturally long to him for nearing mid-sun. Their twisting limbs straightening out to the silhouette of grates reaching towards him. The edges of his vision darkened, black and red to the pounding of blood behind his ears.

All he could hear was cheering crowds, shouts and screams. The stuttering clank of the third blade in a fan gushing hot air. Heavy bootfalls, one set, then two. Breath gasping, a crackling. Of three raps upon a durasteel door, three, not two…

His skin did crawl.

Small faint spasms from neck to spine to limb. It made him nauseous as the air grew thick and sickly humid.

‘I would not say that again–’

His own words echoed to him, interrupted by a deeper, disappointed voice.

‘–one more time, Misil, and I’d have to punish you…’

Not again, Flyndt would sooner die than let that happened to either of them again – that dark hazy willingness to do as needed seeping into him, tugging at his left arm as sanguine eyes loomed above in his mind with a crack.

Foxen.

Another light tug. The Omwati blinked, turned and glanced down to see the gentle snag of the back of his sleeve by a large black hand. His crimson crest unfroze and lowered, perking only slightly to catch his name signed by the larger man.

How long has he been zoned out? Minnie was sitting and drinking. Zuza had left and sat near Bril, talking. Foxen…did he see how his hand shook? Hear the quiet uptick in his breathing?

Taking a breath, Flyndt shifted to face the Nautolan more fully, dislodging the hand on his clothes but latching his own on the thick wrist. Gentle squeeze.

O.K. .

He wasn’t sure what Foxen might have asked, only guessing there may been concern. He signed it again, a question, “Yes?”

Karran obliged Foxen’s request and read allowed before answering.

“That is a reek’s natural color. I assume you have only met then when their skin has turned red. That only happens when they are starved and beaten into…well, madness. They are so hungry they will eat anything and they are so scared and angry they will lash out at anything.”

Karran looked off at Baby. She’d been his friend, companion, and pet for years.

“I actually got her before she could be shipped off to one of those places. I beat their price, because nobody, person or animal, deserves to live like that.”

“That is because she is happy and well-fed. Reeks are very docile when not threatened. Their horns are meant for rooting and digging.”

Karran gestured in Baby’s direction where she could barely be seen using one of her side tusks to dig at the base of a tree.

“But unfortunately, some people saw a creature with horns and chose to make it fight.”

Karran’s eyes got sad for a moment. He hadn’t thought about why he’d latched onto the Reek so quickly. He’d never said it out loud.

“Of course. She is very gentle. Worst you may get out of her is a lick. But her tongue weighs around ten pounds.”

Karran knew Foxen wouldn’t find it funny, but it was still worth a shot.

“If I am wrong, you can stab me. Again.”

Seeing the talk in the distance seem to wrap up hopefully positively, and the trio here settle, Diy leaned back to relax more freely where she sat. Honestly, she was surprised the big tentacle fella didn’t care, mark that as a note of his character.

Conversation turned to Baby, which wasn’t a huge shock. She fecking gigantic and for a dude apparently traumatized by critters, the faux-Zelosian could get asking about her.

“She’s really a sweetheart. I ain’t much for critters, especially the big ones but she won me over,” Diy added to assure with a pleasant grin. “If want, I’ll grab the veggie cuttin’s inside fer ya to feed…her, Flyndt.”

Her words fell off a bit as she slowly cocked a brow at Foxen’s gesture. Whatever brand of humor that man has, she clearly has not yet grasped it.

Flyndt glanced up at his name being read off the datapad, taking a few seconds to catch up with the conversation. He glanced to Foxen and open his mouth to say, ‘It is okay. Do not need see this reek,’ yet stopped himself.

Foxen asked about the creature, about him meeting it. He was trying. While the Omwati did not have a burning desire to see the beast other than curiosity, he greatly appreciated the gesture, giving the larger man a small smile.

“Perhaps we feed her in a bit?” He replied, nodding to Diyrian and Karran both.

A pause lingered before that crest puffed and eyes widened in new interest that seemed to open him from the quietness he had settled into. He gestured as he spoke to the treetops with his free hand, though the one clasping Foxen’s wrist nearly let go.

Ah, yes, Foxen, his crush, and his crush’s giant bat

“Tell me of Drakor? Where these Keeradaks come from? How come to know?”

Frond, having been ignored for far too long in his opinion, walled over to Diy and flopped down beside her with his back to the group.

The pouting was real.

Zuza sat on the other side of the pup, patting him as she reclaimed her plate.

He was starting to enjoy the silence. Those accursed whispers had retreated to whatever hovel from whence they’d launched their mental intrusion; however, Bril suspected that this wasn’t the last time he’d have to contend with their beguiling offers. Although he had asked Zuza to deliver Minnie a message for him, he hadn’t expected her to come as quickly as she had, if at all. Her brother and to a lesser extent the others gathered for breakfast likely would have stopped her, and maybe they’d tried. But the woman was incensed, and she had every right to be.

When he heard his name and the way she shouted it, he knew that there wouldn’t be any talking about what had happened - about what he had said. “If this is how it has to go, then so be it,” he said to himself while turning on his heels.

And there she was, standing there with clenched fists and fire in her eyes. Even while wearing a look that could stop a Rancor in its tracks, he couldn’t help but to admire her. It appeared that the young Zabrak was learning a lot about himself today, and about his preferences in women.

It didn’t take him long to reach the spot where she was standing, and he stopped when he was approximately 15ft across from her. “When we agreed to a match, I expected it to be on friendlier terms. But I don’t imagine there’s anything I can say to dissuade you from this,” Bril said while slowly shrugging loose his robes. He pulled his arms out of them so that the upper portion hung around his waist, exposing a chiseled, slender upper body that had been shaped by regular exercise and martial arts training since his youth.

“Consider this course of action wisely, little Minnow,” he said, his words simultaneously conveying a distinct haughtiness, but also genuine concern for the woman’s wellbeing. It was as if he were entreating her to reconsider, but something within him - that inner thirst for combat that defined him and his life choices thus far - fought against his better judgement.

+

“You should know that my kind revel in combat, as is our wont. If you continue, this fight won’t end until one of us yields or is unable to continue.”

He wouldn’t say anything more. If she decided to continue, which a part of him prayed she did, then he would show her the same respect that he would any other opponent. Padded feet separated into a narrow stance, his left foot out front and angled slightly toward his centerline. He didn’t raise his hands into their guard yet, for he wanted to see what she would do. If she would act.

“Keeradaks come from Skako Minor. They’re predators, but won’t typically try to take large animals or things that give them too much trouble. Drakor typically hunted on his own in the nearby ocean. Plenty of large fish and small marine mammals. He was always more…aloof. Not an overly affectionate creature, but kind to those he likes.”

Karran looked up where Drakor had roosted and smiled. He had on rare occasion had the thrilling opportunity to ride the beast into battle. But Drakor was rarely one for giving rides.

Although he didn’t say anything in response to Diy’s warning, he gave her a quick nod before returning his attention to Minnie. Lifting a hand to the back of his neck, he leaned his head ear-to-shoulder on both sides with a few quick pops. Then, he settled into his traditional stance, rear fist raised just below eye level and his front hand held outward, though not completely straight - his palm pointed outward.

“Use any weapons you want, pur'devsta'ka,” he said while narrowing his eyes, “I won’t need them. Now, if it’s blood you want, come and draw it.”

Flyndt followed Karran’s gaze to the Keeradak as he processed the information. He nodded respectfully to the large beast before turning away.

He should try fishing here on Selen, and shifted to ask the Nautolan about it – then stopped.

Minnow was standing and demanding a knife before leaving. His feathers bristled at his nape as he stared after her challenging Bril in concern. A tug on his sleeve. He glanced to Foxen. Taking a few seconds to process what he signed, he frowned before dipping his head closer. Watch her? his hands flashed in asking, concern solidifying with the mention of ‘death stopping’ and ‘call for blood’ were uttered, even with Diy telling otherwise. The Omwati gestured to the creatures, most of whom he was sure would do nothing, I watch them.

… . .

Verdant green curls bounced as Diyrian shook her head. She sighed and rested a hand on Karran’s shoulder.

“Imma go inside ‘n’ get them greens…and a med pac,” she informed him with a light smile, declining to mention that she will also be grabbing her guns and at least bring them closer to the front door.

As the smaller Nautolan advanced, the grin on Bril’s face vanished, replaced by a cutting stare of steely determination that could sever durasteel. The glint of her blade in the Selenian blade caught his attention, and he made quick note of its position relative to her fist during her approach. Unsurprisingly, that was what she threatened with first, prompting the Zabrak to intercept her initial attack by seizing her forearm and stopping the blade in its tracks. She moved swiftly, driving her elbow into his ribs but by doing so, she brought herself close enough for him to retaliate with an attempted sweep.

Driving her knife hand up toward and across her chest to throw her off balance, he swung his opposite foot across to block her foot should she try to step to regain her footing. The force applied against opposite ends of her body, moving in opposite directions, was enough to kick her feet from beneath her, sending her crashing toward the ground.

Just when he thought he had her lined up for a follow-up to his sweep, the Nautolan sprang upward from the floor and launched her feet into his stomach. The speed with which her diminutive form moved was impressive, and as Bril stumbled backward a few feet after her blow landed, he was reminded of her words about her status as a Mandalorian being synonymous with her being a martial artist. It seemed like there was truth to that statement.

His eyes never left her as he inhaled sharply to recapture the air she’d knocked from his lungs.

Once he’d recovered, he took a shuffle step forward to place him within striking range, his long arms allowing him to fire a jab with his lead (left) arm toward her face. Although it would have hurt if it landed, the jab was primarily a set up for the heavy leg kick that followed from his rear leg, which sent he instep of his leg crashing into her nearest thigh just above the knee.

Knuckles, even as calloused as they were, smashing against beskar did not feel good. It earned a slight wince, but he didn’t offer her any more indication that it had bothered him. He had lived through much worse, after all. His sky-blue eyes shifted to the spot on her thigh where his kick had landed, making the note of the growing patch of scarlet that formed amidst golden skin.

He met her gaze shortly afterward, and puckered his lips in a mocking kind of way, clearly a reference to her previous stunt involving his own leg injury.

Damn. She was small but she knew how to use all of her weight to pack one hell of a punch in her blows. His attention on a potential recoil of the grappling cord distracted him just long enough for her to close the distance between them and, by the time he’d realized an elbow was sailing toward his face, it was too late for him to slip his head outside its path. Solid bone smashed into much softer teeth and lips, knocking his head back and sending him stumbling backward.

Vision blurred and his muscles felt heavy; the blow had dazed him, and he blinked repeatedly in a futile attempt to restore clarity to his field of view.

Elbowed into a daze and the next thing Bril, he was laying on his back with a knife trained on his face. The cheerful Nautolan he’d met earlier that day was gone and a vessel of pure rage and martial prowess had taken her place. She raised her bracer to deliver what surely would have been a lethal blow, and Bril stared up at her with a stoic expression, seemingly ready to accept his fate. Be that as it may, the sound of her metal blade ringing out against the hard rock beneath them made flinch. The sound of the blade snapping in twain became the crescendo of their battle.

Then, the tears came. Their violent dance had ceased, and its departure marked the return of the Minnow whom he was beginning to know, though that cheerful girl had been reduced into a fractured form like the very blade she’d wielded against him. As he lay there, gazing up at her with an expression lying somewhere between mental exhaustion and remorse, he silently cursed himself for allowing things to get as badly as they had.

“Don’t,” he said to her when she started punching the ground. His tone was flat but soft, consoling.

When she continued, he reached up to grab her wrists and pulled them close to his chest to still her. “You’ve been hurt enough.”

His hands were large enough to hold her wrists in one, and he tried to. That free up his other hand to take a place on her cheek, so his thumb could wipe away the tears that fell in a steady stream.

He was at a loss for words. The truth was that there was nothing he could say to her because she was right. And Bril knew that. He had been thin-skinned. He had betrayed her trust. He’d never known himself to be so … affected. What had changed?

Zuza’s warning about his eyes came to mind, in particular, how worried she’d sounded when she said it. Of course, that was what had changed.

A brief consideration of offering up that explanation was quickly dismissed, for he reasoned that even if she could understand how tempting the call of the Dark Side could be, she likely wouldn’t see that as a satisfying explanation. The window for that excuse’s effectiveness had come and gone.

Although he was more than prepared to take the brunt of her scorn and blame, hearing Minnie begin to direct her blame on herself made him frown, and he took a step forward with the hopes of consoling her. That was until he noticed the shadow of another figure casting over her and the blood-stained ground. When he realized it was Foxen standing there, he for the first time since meeting him felt the chilling grip of fear seize his very core. Despite his best attempt to put on a look of indifference, he knew that the larger Nautolan could tell that his sudden appearance had unnerved him.

That look of fear melted into one of genuine confusion when the man gestured for him to come over, and pointed to a place for him to stand? Sit? Be buried? He couldn’t be sure, but something also told him that he’d better oblige, for her sake. So, he did.

Bril didn’t make eye contact with Foxen, instead, kneeling next to him so that he was on the same level as Minnie.

Diyrian leaned in the doorway of the house with a bowl of green cuttings touched against her side. She’d paused there near the tail-end of the fight and just watched. The med pack was set on a stand near the entrance next to a pair of blasters her free hand itched at her side to go grab when Foxen moved.

Give him a chance, she reminded herself, not knowing his intent over there. If bantha shit did hit the ceiling, she trusted the speed of her shot.

He nodded, getting the message, and looked to the datapad to see what he had to say.

If he had to confess, Flyndt had not been watching the animals for at least half the fight. It was hard not to twist to look around Foxen’s shoulder when the ringing clang of metal reached his ears – especially that later snap. Then there was shouting, angry and wet, strained…

Foxen got up and left, his large strides breaking the distance swiftly.

Flyndt stood to go with but stopped himself, crouching down on one knee and chewing lightly on a nail as he tries figuring out what to do. A sigh racked his shoulders. This was definitely something the siblings needed to speak over, the Omwati just hated not being able to do anything to help.

Flyndt suddenly recalled the two still remaining at the rug with him and he glanced to them with a wincing smile. “Sorry…I think Minnow has hurt with Foxen being gone.”

Choosing to disregard what Foxen said about killing him, Bril read aloud the message he’d written for his younger sister.

Zuza had watched the fight with a grimace, but shrugged at Flyndt’s comment.

“Not your fault. Just.. a bad situatin.”

Bril reached into the folds of his robes, that still hung loosely around his waist, and pulled his last handkerchief from a hidden pocket and handed it to her. “Here,” he said, placing it in the center of her palm so she wouldn’t have to fumble around to find it.

After that, he nodded at Foxen’s gesture and untied the upper portion of his robes from his waist. He whipped them in the air a few times to knock loose any dirt or debris that clung to the fabric before draping them across her shoulders.

He had considered placing a hand on her back again like he had when she struggled with the heat of the salsa, but hesitated when he recalled how she’d reacted after he touched her cheek just a few moments ago. Seeing Foxen act in a way that wasn’t hostile or at the very least ornery was unusual to him. But Bril supposed that if anyone could bring something else out of him, it was Minnow. And Flyndt, of course, it was obvious that the two cared about one another.

He said the message aloud so Minnie could hear, sounding a bit more consoling than he imagined Foxen would have said it himself.

Karran decided it was time to step in. They’d had their fight. They’d been honest with each other, likely more honest than they would have been if they’d just talked. He stood and walked over to the Nautolan pair.

“Take her inside. There is a spare room if she needs to rest. A refresher if she wants to take a shower. A holo if she needs to watch some mindless entertainment.”

He waited. He wanted to speak to Bril, but he wanted privacy. He typed out a quick message to Diy.

If they come up to the house, show them to the empty spare room. There should be towels in that room’s refresher.

Seeing the much smaller Minnie wearing his robes brought a slight smile to his face. It looked like it was swallowing her, but he was glad that he could offer her something in light of everything that had happened between them. He returned the nod to Foxen, and thanked him.

He looked over to Karran when he approached, but didn’t say anything, yet.

With Foxen carrying Minnie away, Karran turned to loon at Bril.

“How do you feel? Better? Worse? You like her, and gave her what she wanted, but how did that work out?”

Bril lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck and gave a heavy sigh. “I feel better in some ways, worse in others,” he answered, seemingly having forgotten that blood was dripping from his mouth until he felt a few drops of it landing on his foot. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. “Do you have a stim kit, by chance? I could heal it if need be.”

He lifted a brow at the other Zabrak. “I never said I liked her,” he scoffed, looking away. “She’s attractive, sure. Really attractive. And she hits hard. And she’s fierce … but I never said I liked her.”

Copy that. Got that med pack too if the kid needs it. Bring it out after them get settled.

Diy set her datapad onto the stand near the door next to the bowl of veggie cuts. Grabbing her pistols, she slid them into the drawer below out of sight and moved to wave lightly at the Nautolan pair approaching. She stepped farther into the house giving the pair room to enter and leading the way to the spare room as instructed.

“There’s a refresher in there, with towels. If ya need anything, just holler–” the Kiffar paused with a glance to Foxen, then smiled lightly, “I’ll be outside.”

“Ya injured, Minnie? Can leave stuff to patch up if so,” Diy asked the smaller woman still carried by her massive brother.

“We are bad liars, Bril Teg Arga. You wanted to fight nearly as badly as she did, but for different reasons. A fight is no different than becoming involved with a partner. If you are in it for different reasons, someone is going to get hurt. You and I walk different paths, with different challenges. You seek to walk a middle road, yes? If you wish to walk that path, I cannot guide you. I walk the path that allows me to be immersed in the Dark Side, my struggle is control. Think of a liquid tibanna tank. Shoot it and it explodes, fiery, destructive, unguided. But that same tibanna, channeled through the correct measures, allows for focused, controlled application.”

Karran clapped a heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Do yourself a favor, anké. Do not fight until you have done some deep searching within yourself. Defend yourself when necessary. Fight for your causes as needed. But before you fight for any other reason, find your balance.”

He tapped a finger on the younger Zabrak’s chest, directly on the pendant he wore.

“Find your balance, and you will find yourself.”

Karran turned away, then looked over his shoulder.

“I should have a medkit on hand. Let us tend to your wounds.”

The other Zabrak had read him like a book, and he didn’t seem amused by the thought of him being so predictable. Bril took stock of Karran’s words and catalogued them away amongst similar advice he’d gotten from several others: Ruka, Nora, even Tahiri. Everyone had, in some way or another, cautioned him to find balance within himself, but no one had explained how he was supposed to do that.

“And I suppose the path to balance is a journey that I’m going to have to make alone,” he said, more so thinking aloud than offering a direct response to anything Karran had said. Wait. A journey. That was it!

His expression brightened when the idea began forming in his head, and he moved to follow Karran. “Yes, let’s,” he said, “But after that, I need to know if you have any Pelial To’re here.”

“You are correct. No one can find your balance point. It is different for everyone. Just as you cannot find the balance point on a sword without holding it.”

Karran inhaled deeply before releasing the held breath slowly.

“I have it, yes. It is stored in the shrine in the forest.”

Bril nodded with a smile. “That makes sense. Also makes for a good holomovie quote, too,” he chuckled, “You should get Diy to write those down for you. Could make a little extra money on the side selling self-help books.”

Excellent. He knew if there was anyone that would have Bluth planted, it would be Karran. “Would it trouble you if I took a sapling for myself? I think that’ll be the first step to this journey I’ll have to take.”

“I will go get it for you. I hope it helps you.”

As he turned to walk toward the temple, he called back over his shoulder.

“Diyrian has the medkit. Let me know when you are ready to face your demons. I believe that is one step I can help you with. But you will not enjoy it.”

Diy gave Foxen’s stare a larger smile and nod before leading them on. She nodded to Minnie, fished out a roll of gauze for her.

“Here hun, as I said, I be outside,” the Kiffar reminded before slipping out of the spare room and heading towards the picnic rub again.

Zuza glanced between the various off-shot groups, and then Flyndt who was the only one remaining. He had attempted to talk, but she… hadn’t really known what to say.

So, after that initial awkward response had lingered long enough that the silence was screaming at her, the Human spoke, “So uh, d'ya just shampoo feathers like with hair to clean em or do you gotta just brush em like birds preen? Dust baths…”

She trailed off, smiling and trying to connect over something that surely wouldn’t have baggage.

Frond had given in to Zuza’s pats and was once again occupying her lap, having managed to get on his back and currently enjoying slow, but good, belly rubs.

Bril nodded and thanked Karran before heading back to the picnic area, where he met back up with Zuza, Diy, and Flyndt. Flyndt. The Omwati was the first person that he addressed, and he bowed his head a little while stopping next to Zuza. “I want to apologize for what I said earlier, and throwing a wrench in the breakfast. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

After that, he gave a still-bloody smile to Zuza, “I think we worked things out. Does someone mind patching me up?”

He gestured toward the medkit that Diy was holding.

“Yeah sit down mate, ain’t my strong suit but we can at least get the bleedin’ stopped. You look like something outta a horror holo.” Zuza patted the ground beside her, before gesturing to Frond, “You have to take him though.”

He chuckled, “They should cast me, then. What’s your favorite one? I really like Silence of the Nerfs.”

Bril popped down next to Zuza and threw an arm around Frond, petting him vigorously before settling a little so she could have a look at his mouth.

“Whatever you can do, I’ll be able to take care of the rest with the Force.”

“I’m more a Scream fan myself. More of a comedy by the last few of ‘em, but I ain’t complainin’.”

Once Bril had taken Frond and the pup had finished rolling around to orientate himself, Zuza took the first aid kit from Diy and started going over the basics.

She was not a doctor. But the Human would get there in a few minutes and have hte Zabrak at least… mostly patched up. The mercanary was a survivalist, not a “make it pretty”.. ist.

“Those are good, too. Don’t think I’ve watched the most recent ones, though.”

Once Zuza started working on his injuries, Bril stopped talking and did his best to sit still so that she could work without being disturbed. This continued for a few more minutes until she was finished, and Bril thanked her for her efforts. “I can take care of the rest later.”

Flyndt looked over from watching the house and the pair of Zabraks, a blank look on his face with mild confusion at question. His feathered brow raised when it finally registered and he shifted to face the human, sitting down into a crosslegged position and planting hands on his knees.

“Yes,” the omwati nodded simply. His hand did come up to pull the two long silver tails back over his shoulder as he spoke. “We use both. Sovallu'ast powder, er, as dust bath? And bathe in water. Combing disperse natural oils, and we lather with Kaskoto oil during molts or for pin feathers…”

Flyndt trailed off, feeling a little awkward yet equally and oddly relaxing to share a bit about his culture. He cleared his throat lightly as his gaze fell to watch the slow belly rubs the canine was getting.

Footsteps approaching nabbed his attention, the Omwati looking up to see Bril dipping his head towards him, addressing. Flyndt’s sunset eyes searched the man for sincerity. A mix batch of emotions weighed in his mind but he decided to take him at face value – besides there was a share of slights this morn, it would only cease if attempt to settle, give a chance. He nodded in acceptance back then paused and gestured at the spread still laid out.

“Hoo, the grievance was worked through. May it farther settle in time coming, heal from…” He nodded slowly, “however, food is here, we may still eat.”

Apologies accepted and invitation of moving forward offered, Flyndt settled where he sat to watch Zuza tend to the Zabrak’s injury. His gaze shifting to the house here and there slowed as the others started chatting about ‘horror holo’s’, perking his curiosity.

… . .

Diyrian handed off the med pack to Zuza and took a seat back on the rug. She poured herself another cup of caf, lukewarm by now, and took in the exchanges with interest.

“Primeday the thirteenth was a good one. I like em slasher holos,” Diy added to the horror talk.

“We should still eat, Karran wouldn’t forgive us if this went to waste.” Zuza responded to Flyndt with a small smile, focussing on Bril.

Once she pulled back, she took some wipes and cleaned off her hands before offering a few to him to clean his face with.

“Slashers are good. I think I could kick most of their asses though, cause come on, some of them folk in those holos just prefer stairs to vibroblades.” The Human shook her head disapprovingly. “You ever seen any Flyndt?”

Bril nodded. “To be honest, I wouldn’t forgive me, either. Wastefulness is a vice that I don’t intend to pick up, now. My mother would not approve.”

He laughed while taking the wipes, which he used to clean his face and hands. Then, he brought his hands together and closed his eyes to focus his attention on his remaining injuries, particularly that pesky loose tooth. A few minutes of deep breathing allowed him to heal any lingering damage, which he confirmed by pressing his tongue against his tooth to make sure it was fixed into place again. What a relief. He doubted he could pull off the missing-a-tooth look that he’d seen from characters in some of his favorite holomovies.

“I think we all could kick their asses, to be fair,” he said while preparing himself another plate. “Most people don’t have the kind of training we do, after all.”

“Hoo, horror holos? Holovids?” the Omwati coo’d with the question, tilting his head lightly. “I do not think so. Most holovids I have seen are, hmm, music? Tech and science?”

Flyndt gave a small smile and started to assemble a wrap of his own, grabbing some of that salsa as he did.

“Horror holos are story tales yes? Not horrendous captures of true horror?”

Diy coughed on a sip of her caf. She cleared her throat and resumed her relaxed lean with a grin. “All fake, yeah…could watch some sometime if ya want, kid.”

Something she said earned the woman a slight narrowed glance, maybe the ‘kid’ portion as it was flitting and the man nodded slowly in consideration. “Perhaps.”

Flyndt took a bite out of his food, savoring the taste even as a tingle warmed his tongue and nostrils. He took a moment to fight off a sneeze, losing it into the crook of his arm far from the others.

“Sorry,” a click of his beak behind slight smile. He switched topics. “You are trained in blades then, Zuza? Preference? And Bril…ah, martial arts?”

Zuza had nodded in agreement to the notion of parental disapproval when it came to waste. While she knew now as an adult that Gwaine had been saving a lot of money from the jobs he did, they lived as close to the line as they could get away with. She grew up never having more than what was in the ship and on the table.

Her mood brightened, “Yeah, blades for me. Well, not just blades. I’m pretty nifty with a blaster too, and I do know how to punch. Just… not my strong suit to fight people close up unarmed. I can, mind, but best not.”

She didn’t have to guess why he’d know her preference was in blades, while her beskad was mostly hidden she hadn’t exactly put much effort into it.

Bril nodded. “Martial arts, yes. I’ve been doing it and fighting since I was a child.”

He paused to take a bite out of wrap, savored the taste, and made sure his mouth wasn’t full before he started talking again. “And what about you? What have you trained in?”

“Skilled with polearms and blades,” Flyndt’s scarlett crest flexed as he nodded with a light smile, the topic clearly an interest of his. His free hand snuck up to ruffle the smaller feathers at the back of his head, “I can use bow or blaster, but aim is not a strong suite. I do like working on them and modifying…”

The Omwati trailed off, biting his tongue. He cleared his throat and shifted attention to the green-haired lady. “Diy? You have training in combat?”

Blue-green eyes lingered on the birdman for a moment as the woman sipped at her caf. It almost seemed like she was debating pressing on his little tension there. She relented, a grin arching on her lips.

“Blasters, though I can throw a mean elbow to face ‘n’ knee ta groin if someone gets handsy.” Diy gave Flyndt one more passing look before glancing to Bril. “Fighting since a kid, eh? Zabrak pack? Culture? Or…if don’t mind me askin’.”

“Blasters are something I should probably learn to get better at,” said Bril with a chuckle, “The only time I ever used one was on assignment, but I never hit anything. I am considering picking up a bow, though.”

Diy’s question caught his attention, and he nodded in response. “Lots of kids back home start fighting at a very young age. Some to support their families, others because of tradition, others to pursue glory. But we all do it. Martial arts are a part of our culture. As I’m sure Karran has mentioned, most Iridonians practice K'thri. I was never really good at it, but I talk to Corellian Kickboxing like a bantha on grass.”

He paused to take another bite out of his vegetable and brisket wrap, the heat of the salsa a pleasant addition to the savory taste of the smoked meat. “I had my first fight around four or five, I believe.”

Zuza grinned, “Well, my dad was gonna wait till I was ten or something to teach me, but when I was not long walking, as in.. the first time I walked, it was to pick up one of his vibrodaggers. Scared the kriff outta him, he says it was his first grey.” She laughed a little, “So uh yeah, I get learning fighting at a young age. Though, obviously less culture than necessity to stop me stabbing myself.”

Karran began the neither overly long nor pleasantly short trip to the temple he’d constructed in the forest. It was nothing compared to the architectural beasts of Moriband or Malachor, but it served him just fine. It had cost a pretty credit plus a few favors to have the main piece transported from Tattooine. But he’d felt that the skull of the Krayt he’d sworn vengeance against would make a fitting foundation for his personal place of communion with the Force. The whole building could fit six people, eight if they squeezed in. He had commissioned scale-like tiles be made from obsidian from Malachor. The interior tile was made from terracotta baked from the red-brown earth of Yavin IV, home to dozens, if not hundreds of old Massassi Sith Temples, all of the wood was carved from roots of Wroshyyr trees from the shadowlands of Kashyyk.

He did not need to step inside, the plant he sought had been planted just at the entrance of the temple’s maw. Shiny black seeds grew in bundles like grain. The Sith picked several of the pods and broke them apart in his hand. As he held the seeds, he entered the temple. A shrine sat at the back of the Dragon’s mouth. There was a stone mortar, pestle, and a small fire. He dropped the seeds into the mortar and placed it on the fire. As he took the pestle to the seeds, grinding them into a powder, the color changed from glossy and glittery to matte black.

“That should be enough for the boy.”

Finally, he left to rejoin the others with a small bundle of the cooked and ground seeds.

“Aye, I’ve seen him kick it about.” Diy responded to the Zabrak. Her brow raised and a chuff escaped her as she leaned forward, resting arms on knees and feet crossed over each other. “Correllian Kickboxing, yeah? I guess ya’ll see my tricks a mile away then.”

She skirted the age convo, letting the other two chat about that and just sipping her drink. A glance to her left caught the bird’s crest twitching though he seemed to keep listening while taking a bite of the wrap – that’s like his third and all he’s done was sneeze? She shook her head slightly.

The brief story made him laugh. Somehow, that seemed like something that she would do, even though they had just met. “Sounds like you were called to it, then. My people would say that it was written on your heart. Sort of like fate, but not really. You still have to see it to fruition, and it looks like you did.”

Bril’s eyes shifted to Foxen and Minnie when they returned, and lingered on the smaller Nautolan for a second. He didn’t say anything, but he did offer her a fleeting smile. Maybe she’d notice that his tooth hadn’t fallen out; thank the Force for that.

“You train in it, as well?” he asked, his posture perking up a bit. “It’s always nice to meet another practitioner.”

“Mostly self-defense schist, but yeah. Been a minute I had someone to freshen up practice with,” Diy winked, “Maybe we can toss hands sometime.”

“That’s a nice way of puttin’ it.”

“I’m always up for a good scrap. Just let me know when.” he replied to Diy.

He gave Zuza a thumbs up while taking another bite of his food. “So, your father was skilled with blades, as well. I’m guessing he was a warrior of some sort? Or perhaps a hobbyist?” he asked, interested in knowing more about how she’d come to possess the skills she had.

Bril paused when he heard Minnie address him and nodded in appreciation of the compliment. “You, too,” he said, looking down and away while searching for more words. He found none that satisfied him but he felt he had to offer something more. “You hit hard. And fast.”

By that time, Karran was just getting back to them, and he scooted over to give the larger man room should he desire to sit. “Welcome back. Did you have it?”

“He was a mercenary before I came along, I think he learned from his dad so.. kinda a family thing I guess. He’s really good, mixture of styles like I do. Happens when you don’t really settle in one place to learn.” Zuza responded, speaking casually and lightly and happily leaning back to simply listen as the questions veered off to other topics. Her childhood had been fun, but it wasn’t the most interesting.

Flyndt looked up at Foxen after his elbow brushed the man’s knee, and smiled. It lowered a bit as he glanced to Minnie, giving the woman a nod and signing with a small coo, Better? O.K.?

It was seconds after when he stiffened, crimson plumage raising quickly before slowly settling down again. The omwati shifted to glance towards Zuza a couple times, a small click of his beak behind pursed lips as it set firm. Eventually the need to ask overcome and he warbled quietly before addressing the Human.

“Your father, he did his work alone? With a group? Continued after you were born?” Flyndt managed a slight smile and waited for response, all other conversations just noise presently.

Zuza blinked, surprised by the type of question. People usually asked after styles or the places she’d been if they did ask.

“He worked alone yeah, or at least contracted. He had some mates too, they’d work together sometimes but they all worked different areas and stuff. Well-” The Human paused before shaking her head, “Not quite, but his friends are complicated. Anyone else would be contracting him in on one off jobs. He stopped doing most of the dangerous ones after I was born, but it was his life y'know? I think he had to stop at first, cause I was so small, but once he could leave me with someone for a day or so he started up again.” Zuza paused again, realising how.. hard it would have been. She’d always known it and thought about it, but the recent revelation of her mother…

A slight sadness, mixed with frustration, crossed the Arconan’s face before she shook it away and smiled as if it hadn’t happened. It reached her eyes, “He took me along on jobs once I was old enough.”

Bril took in the details of Zuza’s explanation, nodding to convey his understanding. “A parent does what they must to provide for their children. Getting to go on missions him must have been exciting, and also a little scary if I had to imagine.”

His thoughts took a brief detour to revisit memories of his childhood, of traveling the stars with his parents while they worked. Many of the skills and interests that Bril had today were shaped by that period of his life. Most of the time, he and his siblings were too busy feeling amazed by all the different planets that they got to see to really consider how dangerous some of their adventures had been. But, his parents always made sure they were safe.

Flyndt took the woman’s response and rolled it over his tongue a moment, hrm. His gaze flicked to Bril, nodding lightly to his words before looking back to Zuza.

“It sounds very ‘cool’ experience. Your father sounds interesting,” the omwati smiled. To the nautolans present, his tone almost sounded like a particular cadence Minnow sometimes took on. His hand brushed back against Foxen’s and after a moment he signed assuredly between their legs.

“I don’t remember bein’ scared. I probably was at points but…” She shook her head smiling, “Well. I wasn’t the smartest kid. But it was fun and I wouldn’t change it for the world. My dads a good man. And yeah, he did a lot. Sounds like you know what that’s like too Bril?”

Zuza noticed the signing, eyes flicking between Foxen and Flyndt with curiosity.

Zuza blinked, and then leaned a little to actually be able to look up at Foxen. She was confused, and this was visible on her face. Was he really.. asking her what over noticing the blatantly obvious signing. Surely not?

“….That’s.. not really that clear of a question. What what?”

“Well, it’s signing. I just noticed the movement. It’s not like you haven’t been tracking every movement people have making.” Zuza shrugged, “It caught my eye.”

Karran tossed the pouch to Bril.

“That should be plenty. If you need more, you are using it recreationally.”

Karran listened then interjected into Foxen and Zuza’s conversation.

“We have all made a career of being around dangerous people. It is pretty natural to track hand movement.”

Zuza blinked a few times. Anything else? She hadn’t even thought about it.

So she shook her head, “Can’t imagine it really.”

Anything else?

“It is…complicated. My father once told me it was better to be a warrior on a farm than a farmer in a war.”

Karran had often thought about what would happen to him when there were no more wars to fight, no more monsters to hunt, and no more evil men to put down. When he was the worst man remaining in the galaxy.

Bril caught the pouch out of the air with one hand and nodded to Karran. “Thank you. I won’t need more, I assure you. This isn’t my first time communing with the edalinare, you know,” he answered.

He pondered Minnie’s question for a moment. “I could see myself doing a lot of things after my path in the Brotherhood is done,” he said, tapping his finger on his chin. “Being a shockboxing coach, maybe, but more than likely a researcher like my parents.”

He nodded, recalling the name. “I think you mentioned him earlier, right? Your other brother, I believe.”

“A hand? Like, for help?” He asked, tilting his head. “Is he missing one, or…”

“He lost it in an explosion. Twice.”

Karran looked intense. Jax was someone he found near and dear to his hearts. Especially after the help he had given to Karran after his own incident. Before and after he was ready to recover.

“No matter how strong I may be, I do not believe I could ever match his strength of will.”

“Oh absolutely. It drives me up the wall.”

He gave Foxen a knowing look and a nod, having got the message. Bril spent the next few moments listening to what they had to say about the man. “He does sound like a great guy. I look forward to meeting him some day. As for the puns, I’ll have to ask my father. He loves the things.”

Oh my suns! Flyndt died a little inside on the short exchange about the signing being noticed. He did not want to explain it and thus face potential questions after. Thankfully, Minnow redirected attentions.

He exhaled and finished what bit left of his food as the others talk. The Omwati chuffed at Foxen’s joke. He shook his head lightly with a smile more expressive than his slight ones had been.

“I do not understand Jax’s jokes, would go over my head if my reflexes were not so fast.” Another chuff. “They are amusing though after.”

… . .

“Sometimes wonder what else I could be doin’ but I think despite everythin’ the clan put me on a path better than I had,” Diyrian added to the what if talk.

She set her mug down and shifted to lean back with her legs outstretched and crossed before her. A nod and smile Minnie next to her. The woman mentally noted the notes on Jax, which checked out based on her short interactions with the man.

Being careful ain’t the point.

Zuza almost blurted it out with a laugh, the smile still coming to her face but catching herself on the words. She had a feeling that.. in a similar but different way to Ruka that these Mandos wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment of enjoying the fight. The thrill of adrenaline that was almost addictive. She hadn’t had a good fight that ended without something awful occurring in the midst for.. a while, and the itch was very much there.

The idea of never diving into another crazy situation was boggling to her.

But still, time and place. She picked up one of the less spicy wraps and started on it, aptly avoiding answering.

Frond was happily receiving belly rubs in Bril’s lap. His tail was wagging again, and liable to strike any within its radius at brils side.

Bril rose to his feet and nodded to those present. “It’s been fun, folks. Let’s do this again. Without the, you know, though.” He cracked an embarrassed smile while rubbing the back of his neck.

He turned to Minnie when she called him and nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He gestured for her to follow before stepping away from the larger group.

Frond had slowly been making his way around the group in his attention seeking.

Now as people started stand, he returned to Zuza’s heel.

Zuza herself was beginning the clean up, gathering a pile of dishes and heading back into the house with them while doing her best to not trip over Frond.

Bril ruminated on Minnow’s apology. The woman had been through a great deal, and knowing that he had been so insensitive to that made him feel ashamed.

He sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Minnow. Even if you didn’t expect much from a stranger, I had no right to use what you told me in confidence as a weapon. For that, I offer my sincerest apologies.”

He frowned, seeing that she was beginning to torture herself in searching for an answer, a reason why he did what he did. Why was she so interested? They were basically strangers, after all. Regardless, he didn’t want her to continue worrying about this, especially when he knew why he’d acted so out of character.

“No, that’s not it,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s the Dark Side of the Force. It…”

He sighed. Why was it so difficult to find the right words?

“When I was on my last mission for my Clan, I fought these … things. It changed me,” he explained, not wanting to go into the specifics for fear of inviting them back into his mind. “It almost feels like they left a part of themselves with me. And now, the call of the Dark Side has been harder to resist.”

“I don’t normally get angry like that. And I definitely don’t think it’s okay to do what I did.”

He rubbed the back of his neck before averting his gaze. “I know that probably sounds like another excuse, another diversion. But I don’t know how else to explain it. I’m still ultimately responsible but, I don’t want you to think that that’s who I am. Or … who I was.”

The relief he felt when she explained that she understood shone clear on his face, though it was replaced by a look of sympathy. Sympathy for a woman whose talk of understanding what the Dark Side was capable of sounded deeply personal. Her reaction to his membership in Plagueis had hinted at that fact. He shifted his gaze to Foxen for a long moment, then back to Minnie. His hand found its place atop her own when she cupped his cheek and nodded.

“Enchanting is how I’d describe you, to be honest,” he laughed. Then, he let go of her hand after realizing that he’d been holding it the entire time.

“It wasn’t okay, and I am sorry.” he said, “And don’t apologize for standing up for your family. I would do the same.”

Bril opened his arms while offering a wavering smile of his own.

He wrapped his arms around her in a warm, much needed embrace. One hand moved to rub her back as they stood there,

“Keep the robes,” he said, taking advantage of their closeness while it lasted. “Something to remember me by, and a minor token of my remorse–and gratitude. Hopefully, one of many.”

They separated but one of his hands remained, allowing him to gentle running the backs of his slender digits down the side of her face, carefully exploring the redness that formed beneath the skin.

“I think I’ll take you up on that one day,” he said with a smile and a wink. “It’s been great to meet you, Minnow.”

Flyndt also stood after he nodded, shifting aside Foxen as he did. When Minnie and Bril left, the Omwati paused, feathery crest raising and lowering slightly as he seemed to debate something. Stepping forward, he bowed at the shoulders while keeping his sunset gaze locked on Karran’s mismatched eyes.

“I must admit I came, hoo, suspicious? Guarded? I…find you okay, and Drakor trusts you, so…thank you, for food.”

He straightened up and gives the Zabrak a smile. A moment later his lips pursed temporarily, whatever thought crossed his mind, he did not speak it.

Diyrian quirked a smile watching Minnie walk away, debating nabbing her comm number before the Nautolan goes. She turned and listened to the kid’s admissions. It was assuring that the birdman apparently trusted Karran more, makes this whole past Foxen andKarran spar a little easier. Suppose she could offer same. Hell, she’s had her few share of thrown elbows, shoot first spooked moments. Leaving Flyndt to Karran, she held a hand out to Foxen.

“Well, been interestin’ meetin’ ya, big guy. Wouldn’t be opposed ta seein’ ya again,” she winked with a slight grin. She did slide in, “leave the bones intact ‘n’ I ain’t got no problems with ya, kay?”

Karran smiled and slowly extended his hand to the Omwati, making sure to make sure his entire bare forearm and hand and hand stayed visible to Foxen as well as his left arm.

“Of course. You, Drakor, Foxen, and Minnow are always welcome. I do ask that stabbings be kept to a minimum, but some things cannot always be helped.”

Karran cocked his head at the smaller figure.

“You seem reserved, friend. Please, speak your mind.”

The faux-Zelosian dropped her hand and refrain from shrugging, returning the nod with a light smile. She glanced over to the other two, offered a wave to Flyndt before bidding good by and assisting Zuza with clean up.

The omwati’s gaze flicked down to stare at the hand, listening to the man utter their welcome here. He nodded before slowly reaching out and touching Karran’s offered hand, the gesture a bit foreign and uncomfortable. Yet, Flyndt felt he owed it to try.

Maybe…

Dark hands signing drew his attention, and at leave the avian shook his head just slight but enough. No. He turned back to Karran, nodded and inhaled – uttering his thought without farther delay to second guess it.

“Foxen spoke of the power, strength of those with the Force in conflict…” Flyndt lowered his hand, brow furrowing as his red crest rose slightly. “I have trained with peers in my order, yet we were not thinking of enemies from the Force but those without to defend against.”

Those sunset eyes met the Zabrak’s with a raised chin.

“I want to train with you.”

Karran looked Flyndt up and down. He was small. Thin. Likely very fast. Experienced with the Force? Very likely. He reminded the Zabrak of someone he had trained long ago. Someone he failed. Someone who was not prepared for the situation he ended up in. Karran had not been there he’d been too busy wallowing in his own misery to be there.

“Why? Why do you wish to train with me? There are many others. Others stronger than me. More knowledgeable than me. Others who have not failed as I have.”

The resolve to not look at Foxen right now, to not reach out for him and his aura so close and present,was struggling. He imagined the man was uncomfortable with this proposal. Flyndt was barely comfortable with it. Yet that was part of the point, yes?

…Yes?

The omwati’s jaw clenched and his gaze briefly wavered as the Zabrak glanced over him, evaluating. Part of him wanted to shout not to underestimate him based on size. He was plenty capable. The…other part reminded that he had barely or arguable not at all held his own against Foxen who had not the Force to back him…

His arm itched.

Will you train like he and I fought? Hands flashed beside him.

He needed to…eventually. Right…?

He could not formulate a reply.

Flyndt’s feathers fell with each sentence Karran spoke afterwards, clamping and pressing right to his scalp at the mention of failure. He had not thought so much on it. Foxen had mention there being more jeditt here on Selen and he decided to ask the first one he met? That was stupid and unwise. How could he trust this man? Because he defended Foxen after the two broke each other?

“I…”

Flyndt swallowed and glanced to Foxen and back, feathers flaring, frustrated and uncertainty.

“Because…tsk! I want to because you are familiar,” Flyndt exhaled, not father elaborating in what way. “And because I do not know any others, here. We…all have failures, yes? It is…hoo, what we take away…learn from them, yes?”

Karran listened to the Omwati’s outburst thoughtfully. If he had any input on Flyndt’s line of thinking, he did his best to not betray it.

What we learn from our failures.

Yes. Good. The Omwati had not backed down when challenged. He’d stood up for himself and the path he was choosing.

“Tomorrow morning. Sunrise. Bring a twenty-five kilo bag of rice. We will evaluate your current status and go from there.”

The much taller Zabrak offered a hand once again. He could not know if Flyndt understood the depth of the hole he’d found himself in, or the degree of dedication Karran would seek to pull from him. But he would. And the time would come to fly or fall.

A slight lift of feathers, surprised of the agreement and even more of the immediate plans. He would not take this lightly and nodded, a serious look crossing his face. He will figure out how to carry twenty-five kilos of rice later. Flyndt reached out and took the Zabrak’s hand, more firmly and sure than before – though he still did not shake it.

“Understood. I will be present, with rice,” he affirmed.

A low catch of a growl, like the sounds of a sputtering cutting engine in the middle of dead space, beside him caught his ear when he retreated his hand. The omwati stiffened and glanced over to Foxen, frowning before giving him a wince of a smile.

O.K. he tried assuring, switching to basic after. “This is something I need to do.”

Flyndt failed to stifle a tsk when he saw the datapad move hands. He stared as if his gaze could communicate his wish to know what was written, what thoughts he was not just sharing with him too. Part of him felt an annoyance at a possible intervention, the other part noted the urge to protect and did not so much…object that…

“And his trust is not misplaced. If he wants easy training that will always be well within his abilities, he could find it elsewhere. But my training will be a challenge. I believe it is his choice, though, not yours.”

Now Karran returned his attention to Flyndt.

“Are you sure this is the path you want? It will not be easy, and I do not accept quitters.”

His tattooed lips parted slightly as he tried to parse why the words gestured seemed off. A contemplative, troubled hum escaped the omwati while he debated what to think of that. His gaze flicked back to Karran addressing the Nautolan before being drawn back to the answering slashes.

O. K.

He did not need the Force to understand the man was frustrated. Flyndt watched as Foxen retreated and left for Minnow’s ship, gaze following for a few seconds as he listened to the Zabrak’s inquiring confirmation and clarity of expectations. With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, he turned back and nodded.

“I am,” silver-grey feathers prickled at his nape, chin up and tone set, “I do not expect easy.”

As said, this was his choice.

Iridescent and pied feathers flashed across his mind.

“And I will not quit.”