Private A friend in need...

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
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| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A little lesson in Mandalorian culture

Jenn held nothing but spite and hatred in her heart for the Jedi, once, holding on to her people's profound enmity for the pompous sages. Who were they, to condemn her people for their culture? To involve themselves in their affairs, disrespecting them at every turn? Insults were to be repaid in blood, as was the way of her people - and respect attained through fear. It would take her many years to accept that respect could equally be won through love, that simple realization washing away the all-consuming anger from her soul. ​

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So too did she once consider the very notion of nobility repulsive, firm in her commitment to the ideal of freedom above all else; were it not for Alicio Organa , Natasi Fortan and Corazona herself, she would still hold that sentiment. The three of them had shown her that some wielded the power at their disposal for the betterment of their people, inspiring her to bend the knee and swear allegiance to the Queen of Onderon. ​

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Although each and every one of them insisted that she owed them nothing, the Alor refused to accept that truth into her heart. She owed them all a debt she could never repay, and yet she would try to do just that, all the same. The respect, consideration, and kindness they had shown her, she would repay at every chance, in however many ways she could. No mater how ill-equipped she felt to do so at times.​

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"It can be a difficult journey", confessed the Mandalorian with a weary sigh. "There are yet many among my House who find my reforms radical, whereas others find I hold on to reprehensible traditions. I've recently come to the realization that pleasing them is not something worth pursuing; I can only do what is right for us all, and give them an example to follow. No matter the odds or the consequences, there is no greater honor in life than to stand up for what you believe, no matter how many of your own people decide that something wrong is something right. When your kin, the Galactic community, and even your superiors tell you to move, your duty is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole Galaxy; no. You move."​

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A vigorous mix of wisdom and fierceness, so heartily delivered to a close friend she had come to regard fondly; the ideals of the Mandalorian, distilled into their purest form. The warmth of a fire on a cold winter night, ready to spill out and engulf those who sought to harm those she cared for. Jenn could only hope that the kind-hearted Princess could one day use this wisdom to lead her people to a brighter future.​

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"The battlefield is a fine way to learn of my people", answered the Alor with a toothy grin, a certain savage joy animating her voice now... and not a little pride. "We are a complex people, but we remain, above all else, the greatest warriors in this Galaxy." ​

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A long sip of her tea followed; a reminder of the fiery-haired siren's strength of character, beyond the might she so clearly embodied. ​

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"There is no single interpretation of our creed, leading to myriad splinter groups forming; with that said, the most widely-adopted code is that of the Resol'nare. In Basic, you would call it the Six Actions. The Resol'nare is a sacred law, and one I follow religiously, for it grants me purpose and direction. Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our leader- all help us survive. We must educate our children as Mandalorians, obey the commands of the Mandalore, speak Mando'a, and defend our clans. Abide by these principles, and you may consider yourself a Mando'ad - a child of Mandalore. Those who break this oath, however, are dar'manda - bereft of a Mandalorian soul, and fated never to be joined with the Manda upon their passing. Few things scare us more than the notion of being robbed of the afterlife."​

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Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

I've recently come to the realization that pleasing them is not something worth pursuing; I can only do what is right for us all, and give them an example to follow.

How do I know what is right?

In her years, Jenn had figured out what was right for her people. Cora imagined that sort of revelation was one made through blood, sweat, tears, and agonizing thoughts. Perhaps her own tendency to overthink was coloring her picture of Jenn Kryze's journey before they'd met – perhaps she'd simply woken up one day and decided no, things need to change.

Cora reached for the tea pot, steadying the ornate vessel with one hand as she refilled her cup. The amber liquid, still warm, released wisps of steam into the cooling air around them.

Resol'nare, she mouthed. A guiding doctrine. Mando'ad. Dar'manda. These were terms of importance to the Mandalorian people. Belief in an afterlife was not something she'd expected to hear, brows pulling in quiet surprise.

"I've heard that to become a Mandalorian, one does not necessarily need to be born among Mandalorians. Is that true? Does one only need to adopt the principles of the Resol'nare in order to become a full-fledged member without a blood tie?"

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A little lesson in Mandalorian culture

Corazona's words earned a smile of approval from her beskar-clad friend. The Jedi ever proved herself sagacious in her dealings with foreign cultures; the young woman sitting before Jenn seemed a far cry from the aggrieved Princess lashing out at her upon the tarmac of an abandoned landing strip on Kaddak. No, she had proven herself capable of looking past the wounds left on her world by the children of Mandalore, giving the Ersansyr a fair shake in light of her change of heart. Not all could find it in themselves to do such a thing. ​

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"This is so. Aliit ory'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood. All those who would live by our creed are welcome among our people, no matter their origins; in doing so, they are offered the grace of the white fields, cin vhetin. A fresh start, their past erased; from that point on, they are only to be judged by their actions as Mandalorians." ​

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Another little sip of her tea, equally made to punctuate her words and let them sit within the Ukatian's mind... and enjoy the simplicity of this moment. This was no diplomatic venture, and the burden of leadership could not follow her here, even as their talk inevitably turned to such heavy topics. No, she was merely... a friend, educating another on her culture. ​

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"Some of our greatest leaders were once foundlings. Take me, for instance; I was not born a Mandalorian. My birth parents were killed when I was only a child, though I can scarcely remember their faces now - and when the bounty hunter who slew them came to finish his bloody work with me, his Clan caught up to him. They stripped his armor from him, condemned him for his transgressions; the Alor then removed his head from his shoulders, though he was of her own blood. That woman took me in, though she already had children of her own, and raised me as her own daughter. I owe everything to Matheld Kryze, and not a day goes by where I do not think of her."​

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Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Found family, until recently, had been a foreign concept. Blood ties were lauded over all other relationships on Ukatis, which was ironic considering the number of backstabbing brothers in the planet's violent history.

The curiosity in her expression softened when Jenn relayed her own story - parents slain, and their murderer dispatched by his own clan for his crimes. Such a tragic start to a young life. What was more, their leader took it upon herself to adopt the orphaned child.

"I can tell how much you love her," Cora said softly. It was written into her tone, into her expression, and even in the Force. She'd never been the greatest empath, but all Jedi could feel emotional ripples and shifts when they concentrated.

Though they inhabited the same estate for her childhood, the blonde had never gotten to know her own mother particularly well. Valery Noble had been more of a mother to her, and Kahlil Noble a gentler paternal presence than the one she'd grown used to.

"It's rather the opposite on Ukatis - blood trumps all. Men and women are expected to show loyalty to the family they're born into, or eventually marry into, if you're a woman. Going against the grain in that regard often results in disownment."

Cora peered down into her teacup before letting her eyes rest on Jenn. She weighed the next words in her mouth, heavy as they felt.

"May I ask, if one is born into a Mandalorian clan, but does not wish to take up the oath - what happens then?"

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A little lesson in Mandalorian culture

Though there was an unmistakable softness to the Mandalorian's aura, bitterness soon crept into her voice, all the same. Many years had passed since the horrors of the Scouring, and yet its horrors lived on in her mind, alike claws raking against her psyche with the same viciousness, if less vigor. "Matheld fought valiantly, Matheld fought nobly, Matheld fought bravely... and when the Sith came to our home, my mother died, all the same."​

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The memory was seared into her mind, never to be forgotten. A great loss that permanently altered the trajectory of her life, sending her into a downward spiral she took decades to recover from. Within that wound, hatred and spite festered, transforming her from a promising young warrior into a bitter destroyer, lashing out against the Galaxy in a desperate effort to be noticed, to matter in the grand scheme of things.​

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Corazona's voice served to anchor her within the moment once more. Without her friend, her time spent recovering from her wounds would have been far more miserable indeed, and for that, she felt a wave of gratitude washing over her, even as the embers of her anger were stirred with each reminder of Ukatian traditionalism, and how heavily it must have weighed upon the Princess. It was all she could do to offer but a nod, and a sip of her cup to avoid letting the silence stretch too awkwardly... until the words finally escaped her lips, refusing to be denied.​

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"Is disownment not preferable to bondage?"​

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A blunt question, to be sure, though absent of malice. If anything, her friend's words served to pull her attention elsewhere, and perhaps remind her that for all of the ideals championed by the proud Reformer, she yet sought to keep her culture harsh, in some aspects.​

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"My people are a somewhat... insular sort. We rarely care to share our hearth with the aruetiise; a word for outsiders and traitors alike. To renounce the Resol'nare is to be dar'manda, devoid of a Mandalorian soul; such individuals are no longer welcome among the Clan. Many leave of their own volition. Those who try to linger are banished, never to return."​

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Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As the tendrils of a deeply unpleasant memory clawed at the Mandalorian, Cora reached forward to tentatively lay a hand atop Jenn's own. Touch wasn't a particularly familiar act for bluebloods, but she'd since learned how a simple gesture could speak so much. Her expression creased with silent, gentle understanding.

To witness the death of your own mother - she could imagine few things more horrifying and transformative.

One feeling flowed into the next, this one a little more…contentious. Cora withdrew her hand and curled it around her cup, feeling the warmth of the ceramic against her palm. For all their agreement regarding the big picture of change, there were still smaller points on which they did not see eye to eye.

"Is disownment not preferable to bondage?"

Cora hesitated, allowing Jenn's words to settle over her. "I've been affected by both; neither have been easy nor welcome."

She was walking a tenuous line, questioning a people that rarely shared their culture with outsiders. Perhaps, she was projecting too much of her own experiences onto customs that were not her own. Perhaps, she found it safer to relay her own experience rather than criticize.

"After my husband's death, I was banished from Ukatis for a time, and my father disowned me. That banishment has…eased somewhat since the war. If I had one regret, it would be the rift it caused between my siblings and I."

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A little heart to heart

The past had all but ruled Jenn's life, once. No action taken without the specter of the eternal war looming over her, whispering cruel truths into her mind; that she had been weak, unfit of the proud heritage bestowed upon her. Where her Clan stood, fought, and died-​

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She ran. Like a coward.​

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Words she would repeat to herself in the years that followed, haunted by her failure to die with those she had loved as her own family. Doomed to err the stars, convinced that she had lived, where she was supposed to die. A vengeful wraith of a dead world, visiting righteous retribution against all those who stood before her, until even that slipped through her fingers, her anger no longer dispensed to merely the Sith, but any and all who happened to find themselves in her crosshair. ​

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But pain, anger, and shame, were all too easily banished by the feeling of a hand resting atop her own. A silent, though no less meaningful show of solidarity from a dear friend; a reminder of all that she had achieved since those early days of blind hatred and spite. The child of her enemy now offered her comfort, though unspoken; through the contrition and kindness she showed the Galaxy, Jenn had won more than merely glory. Friendship, forged through honest bonds.​

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"What choice did you have?" fired back the Mandalorian when her friend spoke of her own banishment, furrowing her brows. There yet remained a marked lack of reproach in her word, nor confrontation. Merely... confusion. A desire to understand. Even when she found herself in such an earnestly diplomatic mood, however, there was no mistaking the fierceness behind her every word, a certain innate frustration that came to her when she found herself reminded of the stark differences between the way of her people... and that of the outsiders they still looked down upon at times.​

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"If you had to do it all over again, what would you do differently?"​

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Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

What choice did I have?

Cora's lips parted, then paused. She wanted to speak but could find no words.

There was something personal in the way that Jenn spoke – and it stirred the Jedi into deep thought. Her path had once been linear, her role in life dictated cleanly by her station as the daughter of a noble family. Her path had zigged and zagged, veering off course since the destruction of her marriage.

If you had to do it all over again, what would you do differently?

Both hands circled around the teacup now, clinking her nails against the ceramic. Cora frowned, deep and pensive. If she could go back in time, perhaps she'd protest against the marriage with more vigor. Perhaps she would've stopped her father's hand when he'd gone to strike her. Perhaps she would've taken Makko up on his offer, and fled with him into the stars.

None of that she knew for certain, except for one thought. One that weighed heavily on her as both a Jedi and a princess.

Her hands tightened around the cup. There were rumors, of course. Only a few knew the blatant truth, confessed from her mouth. Right now, she wrestled with telling Jenn.

The cup lifted to her lips. After a long, slow sip, Cora met her eyes. Ocean blue against stormy grey.

"I would've found a different way to survive my marriage. One that didn't result in Horace's death."

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A little heart to heart

There were times when Jenn found herself all too keenly reminded of the many differences between the noblelady and herself. Although had come to learn of politics and diplomacy since their tumultuous first meeting on Kaddak, they could hardly be any more different from one another, still - that their friendship flourished in spite of such differences formed yet another testament to their growth as individuals. Still... there would always be times where her gaze was drawn to the blonde, eyes filled with confusion. How could one live this way? Why did the brilliant soul before her choose to hold on to her world and its customs, when it had marked her soul and body alike in such a way?

The full weight of Corazona's words was appreciated in silence, the siren's attention entirely focused on the Jedi sitting before her; now, more than ever, her features were truly worthy of comparison to a hawk's, or some other bird of prey. Although no emotion truly filtered through, such sudden harshness betrayed her, if after a fashion. ​

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"Many are my eyes", spoke the warrior of the Owl mysteriously, and not a little ominously; though no true confession left her lips, this was the closest she had ever gotten to openly admitting the existence of the Kyramud. Her blades in the shadows, watchers in the dark. Those who died without glory, without honor, for naught but the promise of a better tomorrow. "And many are the gossips and rumors surrounding the death of the Prince of Ukatis. Tall tales, as you can imagine - some taller than others..."​

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It was all she could do to stop herself from closing her eyes, nor balling her hands into fists, much as the topic awoke her fury once more. That the whole sordid affair was kept under wraps by the crown filled her with barely-restrained disgust. The man's memory should have been one of shame, his name dragged through the mud for his actions, for daring to raise a hand to his wife. Such tales were few in her culture, and ever ended the same; with one party running the other through, with the full approval of all who knew of the misdeed. Evidently, the Princess thought differently, given her words...​

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To contain the melodious siren's song of her voice took a conscious effort on her part, requiring that she all but fight against the very nature of her species to accomplish such a daunting proposition; carried on the winds of passion as she was, the Mandalorian failed to maintain her focus and suppress the reality of her condition. With every syllable she uttered, beauty and power built behind her voice, enthralling and captivating...​

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"He would have left you a pauper or a corpse. Marriage is meant to be - it is sacred, among my people. Divorces have been known to happen, yes, but we marry for love above all else, and so many such unions continue to flourish. This is as it should be. Bad enough that you were forced into it all by your own family, but you- you-"​

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Jenn found herself choking on her anger, struggling to close a lid on it as she always did. Now, more than ever, she realized just how profoundly unhelpful such a sentiment surely was to her friend. No matter how much the warrior empathized, what had been done to her could not be undone. Expressing her wish to have been there to break that pitiful excuse for a man would bring the blonde nothing.​

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At last, she sucked in a lungful of air, causing the normally discerete gills gracing the sides of her neck to visibly flare. Had her helm been in position, such a telltale betrayal of her body language would have been hidden. ​

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"Marriage is not meant to be endured. Marriage is not meant to be survived. Was there every truly another way to rid yourself of that collar, Cora?" ​

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A rethorical question if there ever was one. The mermaid was all too glad to busy her hands with her cup of tea, forgotten as it had been through her impromptu rant. Regret etched itself onto her features, softening them somewhat. This outburst had been unproductive, and perhaps even a little hurtful; and the knight sitting across from her... deserved better from her guest.​

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"... love is the most beautiful thing in this Galaxy. It trumps honor and duty, or even one's dedication to the Force. If there ever was one thing I had to fight for, love would be it. I dearly, truly wish that you may know its touch, though it won't ever wipe away the scars of the past. That much is now a part of you, as surely as any other of your deeds... but you, my friend, you deserve softness. To have someone who will respect and adore you."​

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Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora visibly grimaced at the mention of Jenn's eyes - she hadn't realized it, but it was almost certain that other foreign entities had likely blended into the Ukatian capital. Had it been one of her handmaidens? She hoped that it hadn't been one of the palace staff who'd witnessed the shame of her disfigurement by Horace's hand.

The rumors, at least, had come as less of a surprise. They'd been swirling since the night she'd pushed that horrid man from the window of his study.

Cora swallowed around the lump in her throat as words sharpened by anger - not directed at her - flowed from the siren like a hymn of war. Her eyes flicked to the gills peeking out at the sides of her neck, now more prominent, then back to Jenn's face.

"My marriage was a tool. A political act - I can assume that love and compatibility were not considered when my father offered my hand."

Her voice was soft, halting, and tired. It was a point she'd often used to defend her father's decision, even though she'd been none too pleased with it. Marriages of convenience were common among Ukatian nobility, where happiness was something you tried to build around your duty, but never in place of it.

Cora's hand moved quickly of its own accord, reaching out to snatch one of the siren's hands that had been clasped around the cup. She held onto it desperately, as if Jenn were suddenly her singular lifeline as she dangled over a cliff's edge, unaware of the way her nails had begun to dig in.

"I know love," her words, whisper thin, were forced past that growing lump. "I know it now. It has taken me a long time to believe that I am deserving. We found each other before my marriage, then it ripped us apart, but I still knew his love."

Unshed tears beaded along her lash line, staring a Jenn with wide, almost pleading eyes.

"It took time, but we reunited. Rekindled what we had, and more. He is kind and loving and-"

Cora drew in a deep, rattling breath. She'd been overcome by a swell of emotion, something so rare for her on Ukatis of all places, a world that demanded mindfulness.

"And even though the concept is sour, I-I think that I someday want to marry him."

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Pandosia
| Objective | A heart to heart

Mandalorians were feared and respected in equal measure across the stars for their demeanor; quiet, laconic warriors when found at rest, they eked out a humble existence in service to one cause or another, though more than often, they sold their services to the highest bidder - but always dispassionately, reserving displays of emotion for their own kindred, trusted and adored as they were. A great family of families. To be known by their visors had proven to be a great boon on more than one occasion, embracing the dehumanization of their equipment wholeheartedly and jealously guarding the secrets of their culture from the outsiders they looked down upon. But on those rare occasions where a select few outsiders managed to make it past such daunting challenges... they, too, became family. ​

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When faced with Corazona's emotional outburst as she was, Jenn's eyes grew wide, if for but a moment... and then, her expression softened, the sharpness of her gaze left behind, as was her stern expression. Slowly, gently, the Ersansyr reached out with her hand, resting atop the Jedi's own as it grasped hers, meeting her gaze all the while. The soft, enchanting glow of her eyes was a difficult thing for some to behold, though others found peace within them; now, more than ever, the Alor hoped the Princess would find the latter within them.​

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A raw, naked display of emotion like this... was treated with all the kindness it deserved. A smile pulled at the siren's lips, gentle and warm, offering solace to the young woman before her. Hope. And, above all? Unshakable belief in the knight's future. No matter the challenges lying in her way, Corazona had not only endured, but triumphed. The horrors of her marriage could not break her, the Sith could not break her, and even the savage raid visited upon Axilla by Jenn's own kin could not break her. ​

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"You will, Cora", promised the Mandalorian softly, if firmly, speaking with the same certainty a seer might employ. Her siren's song required time to build up, spinning itself one word at a time, but through a conscious effort on her part (or an uncontrolled rush of emotion), she found herself all too capable of accentuating its effect. To bring peace to one so very deserving of it. "You deserve to have this, and I know you have the strength and courage to reach out and take it. Do you remember my words, when I first came to help in the rebuilding efforts? Love is far greater than duty. Never, ever let it go. And when the walls close in, and it all seems too much... I will always be here to aid you."​

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Corazona von Ascania ​