Selen Arcona Citadel Feruliglade
Hidden away behind the heavy stone walls of the looming Citadel was the forest home of many a creature. Usually reserved for the high summit and members of the Arconae, it was also the former home of the Cythraul. The familiarity was welcomed by Ivoshar, first of his name, and his little sister, Fela, last of the First Pack.
The two Cythraul patrolled, with Ivoshar showing Fela where there mother had taken them. Fela was taken away when too young, for her health, so she did not show any sign of bordeness or fatigue and just happily followed her brother around and let him reminisce. Still, they maintained their watchful guard over Kirra Arrave Tyris.
In an outcropping, under a set of tall trees full of life and creating shadow from the sun high above, a blanket was being spread out by a young girl. She hummed to herself as she pulled on the edges of the blanket atop the smooth grass. She circled it once, twice, making sure the corners were fully extended. Just so. Father would notice, otherwise, and be bothered, and she wouldn’t have any of that.
It was a turning day, but also a resting day. She was trying her best to be patient for her new brother, but she really wished he’d be here so she could start taking care of him. Her long mess of white hair tumbled around her round face, rounded nose, smooth skin, and bi-colored eyes. She wore her favorite dress and moved on to setting up the basket of apples they had picked earlier. Mother and father would be here any moment.
“Now, dear, don’t furrow your brow like that. You’ll get meanie wrinkles! I’m fine. And yes, I know you’re making a face, I can feel it.”
Marick Tyris Arconae’s eyebrow only twitched a millimeter, but still.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You know, usually one worries less with the second child. Experienced it once, and all that.”
“Atyiru.”
The Hapan’s look said everything. Well mostly, his thoughts did, as the Miraluka could read them easily and was permitted to (not that she wouldn’t have besides). He worried, was all. For her and their child*ren.* Especially when not so long ago she and the baby had been exposed to life-draining mind-controlling metamorphasizing crystals of a nature they still didn’t understand, even if they could now be purified. Healing had taken a bit longer. They were both more concerned for the baby.
But, details.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m waddling. It’s very dignified. You may tell me I’m beautiful and enchanting.”
“You are beautiful and enchanting.”
Atyiru beamed at him.
“I know ” They approached the spot Kirra had picked out, their cythrauls off in the undergrowth, and the Miraluka gave a gasp of delight. “Litlun, this looks wonderful!‘
Kirra smiled back, looking proud as she turned to them. Her small pointed ears wiggled. Atyiru’s did too. Marick wondered if the baby’s would.
"Papa?” the girl asked, obviously eager for confirmation. Marick blinked and smiled softly at her.
“It is just right.”
Kirra beamed, and whatever concern, hidden anxiety walled away between a heart and mind tempered with beskar that lingered in Marick seemed to evaporate.
Kirra’s birth had been anything but conventional. He had missed it, but would never let anything come in the way like that ever again. So he would be by Atyiru’s side and everything was going to be okay. Looking down at Kirra, her smile, and her bright eyes and twitching ears such a mirror of her mother that he felt a warmth trickle through his entire body.
Marick leaned down and picked Kirra up, lightly tossing her up in the air and then catching her with the Force and lowering her slowly. She giggled and stretched her toes out to touch them down first before settling on the flat of her feet. “Wheee. Now, please sit, while I fetch our other guests,” the young Hapa-luka-sephi gestured.
“Ow! Who put this here!??” a voice called out.
Marick tensed, old habits dying hard. Biddy, who had remained perched on his shoulder with his holo-photo add on ready to capture the days event, chirping a ready-call to dispense his hidden lightsaber.
The moment passed, quicker than a heartbeat, as he recognized the voice and Wyndell’s familiar silhouette appeared.
Kirra clapped her hands excitedly and bounced from foot to foot (barefoot, of course so she could feel the grass beneath her toes….her mothers daughter). “You walked right into my trap, Uncle Wynnie!”
“CURSES” Wyn threw his hands up dramatically. “Foiled again by my clever niece, alas…” He came into the clearing with a little piece of rope tied into a circle around the tip of his boots. More realistically, he had kicked the feeble trap without any consequence. But he pretended as if he’d been truly snared. “You’re getting better at those…”
Kirra giggled and ran over to hug her uncle’s leg, squeezing tight. Then she grabbed a hold of his fingers with her whole hand and dragged him over to sit towards Papa.
“Sorry, she insisted I join you guys.”
Marick didn’t show much emotion on his face, but he did nod amiably. “You’re always welcome,” he said, more formally than he probably meant to.
Atyiru smiled and practically sang, “Wyyyynnnifreeed! Welcome! He’s right, you know, Mister Wister. No apologies, or else I’ll. Well. Come back to me, I’ll have a proper threat once this craving for pickled brownies is gone…” She was taking a jar out of the basket and scooping spoonfuls of briney, chunky brown slurry into her mouth. Green bits floated in it. “Anyfshwsy, yuh awshays wullcom.”
“Yes,” Kirra added, hands on tiny hips as she faced her father and uncle. “Because that’s family! Don’t be silly. Silly is for bubbles and lettuces. But not bubble lettuce. That’s just feeling bloated. Mother says.”
Sagely, the a Miraluka nodded. Their cythrauls padded by. Feels took one sniff of what she was eating and sneezed.
Wyn controlled his expression at the mention of pickled brownies, but not very well. Somehow, the cheerful Miraluka had figured out subtle ways to even weird Wyndell out. That in itself was deserving of a medal.
The Human smiled, and took a seat next to Atyiru at Kirra’s insistence. She went fetched him a small tea cup. She then grabbed a bottle with a stopper and poured it carefully into his cup. “One propa'cupa for Uncle Wynnie!” she declared proudly.
Wyn glanced down at the cup, sniffed it, shrugged and took a sip.
It was sugar water. Colored, sugar water. He glanced over at his brother, lifting a brow, but from the look he received in return, he had lost the battle with a pregnant wife and hyperactive daughter for “healthy” alternatives.
“How about you Papa?” Kirra asked.
“I’ll have half a cuppa, lunayi, thank you,” he conceded as he sat down with legs folded into a neat pretzel.
“It tastes like sunshine and delight!” Atyiru exclaimed when her own cuppa was poured after Marick’s, Kirra concentrating greatly on making his cup as exactly half as she could for him.
“Quite so!” the girl squealed back, and then poured a second cup and set it in front of her mother as well. “For my little brother,” she explained.
“Why thank you, litlun. I am sure he will like it very much also.”
Atyiru picked up the second teacup. With one in each hand, pinkie fingers stuck out, she attempted to sip both at once. It was demonstrably a challenge. Meanwhile, Kirra set down cups for Ivoshar and Fela.
Fela padded over towards the cup and sniffed at it. Her ears folded, then perked, and she started to daintily lick at the contents.
Ivoshar eyed it more skeptically. But when Kirra smiled at him, the grizzled Cythraul caved almost instantly and drank from his own cup.
Now that all were settled, Kirra decided it was her favorite time of the afternoon. Question time.
Marick had handled many things in his life. The lives of all active agents in the Inquisitorius, for starters. The fate of the Clan and all it’s armed forces. He’d served, fought, and killed demi-gods and things far worse but was still standing.
But nothing had prepared him for a toddlers curiosity.
“Pappa, Momma…did you decide on a name for my brother?” she bit her lip, almost shyly, and tugged at the edge of her dress.
The Miraluka didn’t blink – obviously – or pause in her snacking, having stirred some pickled brownie into her juice tea like a dollop of honey. She smiled beatifically, first at Kirra, and then at Marick.
“Why, what a marvelous question, lunayi. What do you think, Papa?” And she winked at him, with her eyebrows. “Is it time to ask a question of our own?”
Her head turned, like some sort of eyeless owl, shining her smile right on Wyn.
Marick blinked once, then twice, but showed no other reaction on his neutral expression. “We decided on ‘Weyne’,” he stated calmly.
Kirra’s eyes widened in time with her smile as she bounced in place excitedly. “What a delightful name!”
Marick smiled at her reaction, but then joined Atyiru in “looking” at Wyn.
“You haven’t even begun to think of one, have you,” Marick continued.
Wyn’s stage face was practiced and came in handy here. He looked back and forth between his brother and sister-in-law. Clever trap. He glanced down at Kirra who seemed to be at the edge of her seat with anticipation, looking up him with childlike wonder.
“I uh…we’re back and forth with some Socorran”
“Like Auntie Sock?” Kirra asked.
“Yes, like Auntie Sock, but a different name…”
Kirra leaned in, so Wyn leaned forward.
“…but unfortunately I can’t give you that name, as it is a secret thing. Names have power, I’m sure you know,” he explained.
Kirra nodded once, knowingly for a child, as if the information being shared was common. Just like apples grew on trees and yams from the ground.
Atyiru just smiled and giggled. “Yes, indeed, names have power. You know your namesake, litlun, even though you never got to meet her when she was with us here, and not with us in the Force.”
Then, she reached over, and covered Wyn’s hand with her own, giving it three proper pats.
“And little Weyne will know his, won’t he, Wynnie?”
Wyn scratched the back of his head. “I doubt any power will stop him, if he takes after his sister…” he winked down at Kirra and ruffled her hair.
Fela, apparently having finished her cup, knocked it over with a dainty but affirmative paw motion.
She looked up at Marick, daring him to challenge her.