Private Family is more than blood

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen's eyes widened as he heard their little tale. "I'm sorry... I didn't know..." What else could he say? He looked even more solemn when he heard about Yurb. It was clear to both women that this was the first time he had heard about this from anyone. "No one is ever perfect and I won't defend them. I've also pretty cold about the Jedi at the moment. I can call only one a friend and all of the rest despise me because of what my brothers did to their order in the past... No... No one should be used and abused in that way..."

The Trooper was now bent over as he nursed his own headache, thinking about how he had not known about this. The Jedi had probably covered it up, not wanting people who saw the results of the battle to view them unfavorably. "I never did fully trust them but I was hoping they could help me with my nightmares and my own force abilities. I even got a Master to help teach me... who dropped me after two sessions... Right now, I'm just here because Kashyyyk is my home and I don't want to leave the graves of my brother's unattended too. That is the only reason I don't go to Mandalore or stay on this ship. I don't want my brothers to be forgotten even more..."

Omen got alittle happier at Mia asking who her Aunt's mystery man was, a mischievous grin on his face. "Your Aunt is crushing on Shuklaar Kyrdol and I'm going to surprise her with a date with him. She won't know where or when, but it will be coming. Maybe you can even find a good dress for her to wear to it. I know he will most likely treasure and husband your Aunt like he will our armed forces." Jhira's remark about buying up his tea and tihaar caused him to laugh as he gestured to the mosspit of children playing in the hallway. "Of course, I'll give you all the beverages that you will need. I wouldn't blame you for getting alittle tipsy after having to deal with all those gremlins all day but I'm sure it is a labor of love."

The sight of Mia reminded him of the computer that sat in his fighter. "Oh, and I got you a Computer made for helping diagnose issues with your suits electronics and hud Mia. I hope you will use it well." He would then brace for the freight train of a hug that Jhira had predicted. At least he could make one person happy on this ship.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira slid to her feet, moving around the Forge to settle in beside Omen. Unless he flinched away, she’d slip a single arm over his shoulders, as far as she could reach. “I am sorry. And you are right; No one should be used and abused that way. And no Jedi has any right to condemn you because of their own Order’s colossal failures.”

She murmured softly to him in Mando’a, “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” Gravely, she watched the grieving young man.“Then … you recite the names of your most beloved dead. It means, ‘I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.’”

“You say this, then recite the names of those who most burden your heart. Every single day. This is the Daily Remembrance of the Dead. We are taught that doing this, remembering, calls the spirits of our dead home to be re-united with the Manda of the Clan. They will come home to us.”

A pause.

“Will you share the names of your brothers with me? Tell me of them?”

 

[Mia Mereel]

​

Mia shook her head and dashed for the door, only to return with several bottles each of (inferior) Tihaar. Then she lit up the forge, and moved to Omen’s other side. Jhira slid away from her grieving Vod only when Mia was settled in beside him. Mia clasped his arm in both of her hands, and leaned into him reassuringly. But she watched Jhira with an uncharacteristic seriousness, as Jhira fished through Omen’s shattered armor, picking out a small, glittering piece of the ancient relic. Then she slid protective gear on, despite the pain of half-healed bruises. Slowly, rhythmically Jhira began to pound and work the sliver of metal that had supported the mostly plastic armor. Hitting a foot pedal, a tiny ounce of beskar slid into the forge, and melted into a mystic, silvery-blue.

“This is the first task she leaned, as an Apprentice armorsmith,” Mia told him. “If you tell her their names, she will make an etching, for each one, from beskar and your armor — their armor, too, spiritually speaking. We will affix them to your new armor. Then, your vode will always be with you.”

She lapsed to silence then, drinking in all that Omen dared to share, while the heat of the forge burnt away her tears, chapped her lips and roughed her cheeks.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Time passed oddly, as i twas wont to do with ritual and grief; Jhira did not know how much time passed, before she was free to slip off the confining gloves and muffling apron. Blisters had risen, in hands unused to such work.

It was only then she realized silence reigned from the outer area; that the rest of her Aliit had quietly slipped away, to let Omen mourn in peace.

It was then, when Mia ambushed Jhira with a query into matters Jhira would deeply, truly, wish remained utterly secret. From everyone. Downing an entire double shot of Tihaar in one swift, agonizing moment of delight, she started to protest.

But could not; not when that mischievous smile had returned to her vod, lighting his eyes.

“Sith-lord on toast! No way! What a little osik, to hide that! Haar'chak, she is aiming high!”

Nothing Jhira didn’t remind herself of daily; she was no secret space princess or powerful Force User or destined hero. To stop the tirade, Jhira returned to a topic that weighed heavily n her mind.

“Might as well shoot for Isley-shab-Verd himself!”

“SIlver is getting training from Mig Gred. He might help, you, too. He’s not a Jedi; he calls himself a Mando’ade’jeti” Jhira slid her glass forward and poured another.

“I know someone else, someone I trust, who might be able and willing to train you, as well. So do not despair; they are out there. Trustworthy people who bear that same burden.”

Mia shook her head, but her grin flashed, a she gave a mock groan.

“ ‘treasure and husband her like our armed forces’,” A playful, heavy sigh followed, though there was a timber in her voice suggesting she was deeply moved.

“There is more to life than armor and battle.”

“I will out-do myself. I will make her beautiful this time.”

Jhira gave a soft laugh, and grinned unrepentantly at Omen, when he promised her tea and Tihaar. “Oh, dealing with the gremlins will be much, much easier now that we have you to help!” A mischievous smile flared, a ‘gocha’ look in her eyes. “Well, if you won’t sell me your wares, you’ll just have to accept our help and aid without price as well, Verd’ika.” An endearment used either of children bewteen 13 and 18 … or your closest friends. “Which means no more worrying about credits for you. We look after our own.”

It took a second or two for the words Omen spoke to register, and then Mia squeaked, leapt to her feet and flung herself at Omen, laughing cascading around him as she hugged him fiercely.

Fine.

So maybe life was all about battle and armor.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen didn't finch away from her touch, if anything he melted into to hug as tears started to flow down his face. "This is the first hug I've ever gotten... It feels nice..." He tried to contain himself as he wiped away his tears away. "His name was Bolt, he was my best friend. He was more outgoing and brash than I ever will be. He was my complete opposite... And that made us work so well. He comforted me when I had my screaming fits... We didn't do hugs though, only handshakes or touch each other's shoulders to show that we were there for each other. And I crashed a building on him through a mistake... There was a bomb and I... failed to defuse it..." He couldn't even choak out the rest, it was too raw even if it happened 850 years ago. That cremation pot... Just the sight of what he caused had sent chills down his spine.

When the Clone looked up to see it was now Mia that was comforting him and Jhira who was now pounding away, making a... new set of armor? He didn't expect it to be made so soon... "Ummm... Sure... I would just put Bolt at the top near the collar and 41st Elite Corps underneath. I actually wasn't a popular one... Bolt was my only friend... Just like you two are really..."

The trooper laughed softly, trying to stick with the conversation's 180. "I'm sure your Aunt could win anyone's heart given enough time." A soft chuckle as the girls debated Jhira's best match. "I barely know Mig but maybe later on..." Now was not the time to tell them about the small crush he had on his sister but if the two looked hard enough, they might see just a tiny bit of red in his cheeks. Though he caught himself in time to raise an eyebrow at Mia's language. "This time? You have set her up on other dates?"

Jhira gave a soft laugh, and grinned unrepentantly at Omen, when he promised her tea and Tihaar. “Oh, dealing with the gremlins will be much, much easier now that we have you to help!” A mischievous smile flared, a ‘gocha’ look in her eyes. “Well, if you won’t sell me your wares, you’ll just have to accept our help and aid without price as well, Verd’ika.” An endearment used either of children bewteen 13 and 18 … or your closest friends. “Which means no more worrying about credits for you. We look after our own.”

Omen chuckled. "You could have just said you needed a new babysitter and I would have said yes." He tried to reply when Jhira said they would push credits into his pocket whether he liked it or not before giving in to her generosity. "Fine, I give... But only if I can help around here a little bit. I don't want your kindness to be taken for granted?"

The man out of time then faced off with the biggest challenge yet, keeping upright as Mia tried to take him to the ground. "Okay, your welcome!" The Clone looked to Jhira with a thankful smile, knowing that he had found a friend for life.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Shereshoy and Aay’han were always inexorable linked; this perfect moment celebrated both. The zest and zeal for life, that made you grab each moment as it happened, making the most of life and the bittersweet pang of lost lives and tragic moments that made the first so very necessary. Sipping another Tihaar, sitting around a Forge with Omen and Mia, Jhira felt both wash over her. She hadn’t even been able to speak, when Omen confessed her hug had been his first. So she’d rested her head against his and held on tight, aching for the torture that had been his childhood. No, his whole life.

Looking down, she realized she still clutched Bolt’s sigil, the edge cutting into her blistered flesh. Dared she address his bitter guilt? She was a leader; she well knew the guilt she carried over her own failures. No one else insisting someone else had pulled the trigger had ever helped her. Her grip tightened, the blister bursting in a sharp hiss of pain.

Wear the Armor.
When the time came, she would fasten the two Sigils precisely as requested. But this wasn’t that time. This was shereshoy and aay’han.

Raise your children as Mandalorians.
He promised to babysit, and Jhira had to clear her throat before answering. Because that simple thing … looking after the kids, taking care of family? That was the real first step for Omen to claim the life he should have.

Support the Clan
Laughter rippled free as Omen insisted on working for his keep. “Oh, I promise you’ll work for it. But that it will always be worth it.”

Speak the language.
She raised her tihaar in salute, “Oya Manda! Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

Self Defense.
Thinking of just how effective Mia’s tackle of Omen had been, Jhira nodded again. “Think you could teach her to do that tackle for real, Omen?”

Not bad, for only a few hours sworn to the Way. But then … Omen had always had the heart of a Mandalorian.

Spoiler

Oya manda!

[OY-ah-MAN-dah]

Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.

Aliit ori'shya tal'din

[Ah-LEET-or-EESH-yah-tal-DEEN]

Family is more than blood. (Saying.)

 

[Mia Mereel]

​

Sheltering against Omen, mind half on all of the wonderful things she might do with what he’d brought her, and half on how safe she felt, despite the odd swooping feeling passing over her, Mia almost missed Omen’s question. She dimpled at him, shaking her head.

“Oh no! Aunt doesn’t date. She got dressed up for the Nexu!” A giggle wiggled free, despite trying to be serious. “The CIS had this huge bash,”[/color] Mia shook her head. “We thought for sure the Sith … Isley Verd? Would start trouble rather than tolerate being voted out.” a baffled shrug followed. “He let us down though, being law abiding and peaceable. So we didn’t get to save anyone. It wasn’t a whole waste though.”

“She met Mr. Magic,” Though there was a certain baffled consternation that Mia simply couldn’t keep out of her voice. Sir Kyyrk Verros both compelled respect and frightened her. A sigh drifted free.

“I designed Auntie’s dress, but he said she looked better in amor. Well, that, ‘Armor suits you better than that damned dress.’ ”

Jhira choked, hearing the message Mia was too inexperienced to divine.

Rally when called.
“I won’t let you down. If you can get Mr. Armor to the place, I’lll get her into the dress.”

A soft, helpless laugh escaped Jhira.

Family. It was everything.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen heard Jhira's grunt of pain probably before she did and when he looked down at her puss stained hand, he could only wince as he tried to shelter Mia from seeing the grievous wound. "You might want to get that checked Vod." When he managed a glace at the object she was holding and trying to remove it from her hand with tongs, trying not to rip more of the skin off. "Have any spare gauss Mia?" Hopefully, he could get his vod's hand wrapped before it got infected.

Everything that he promised to Jhira, he would do. It was always good for the soul to help out when he could. And the reward of getting to know Jhira and Mia some more wouldn't hurt either. The Clone saluted them both with his teacup as he repeated the chant and added a little more. "May life shine upon you always."

The Clone laughed as he held Mia in a tight hug. "I don't know if I can but I sure will give it a try." He only nodded along as Mia told him about the CIS party and Isley Verd stepping down. Some people had the common sense to know when to stop and it looked like the Sith leader knew when the writing was on the wall. He did raise an eyebrow in question when she mentioned a Mr.Magic. "Mind elaborating for me Mia?" The trooper then raised an eyebrow at the girl's tale with an amused smile. "You are going to have to show me some pictures sometime. I'm sure she looked wonderful."

With a toothy grin, Omen accepted the challenge. "I'll see what we can put together. Hopefully, it will be suitable for the two" These two people were as close to family as anyone he had ever met and he loved them evermore for accepted him into their pack. Maybe he really had a place in this galaxy after all.

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

It surprised Jhira, the burns and blisters scattered across her hand. For a moment or two she simply stared at the sigil blistering her flesh. Then the pulsing pain, the burning heat, the sharp, acidic sting. Locking her jaw on even the smallest sound of protest, Jhira focused upon remaining utterly still while Omen worked. Omen’s subtle move kept Mia too distracted parceling out supplies and swearing at her Aunt’s carelessness to actually worry, and Jhira flashed a grin at Omen in thanks.

With great care and enough assurance that Jhira suspected he knew a little something about forge work himself, Omen selected the right tool and carefully removed the still cooling sigil from her flesh. Strong, gentle hands tended to her wound, cleaning it with a sterile saline solution. A tremble passed over her; deep, careful breathes got her through the worst of it. The waves of nausea eased after the cleaning was done. A bacta spray followed, which eased the anguished protest of her abused hand. Omen wrapped the ugly mess with practiced ease, and Jhira smiled at him.

“Thank you,”

When Omen added his own well-wishes to hers, he saluted her with his ever present tea cup; eyes twinkled at him, clearly delighted. “Do you not drink, Omen?” Jhira asked, truly curious. He’d turned down drinks at the Oyu’baat, yet he brewed Tihaar. It made her curious about how and why her precious kinsman had learned how to brew.

 

[Mia Mereel]

​

[ Sergeant Omen ] Omen’s tight hug washed away the stress of her Aunt’s careless disregard for own wellbeing, and Mia relaxed again. She flashed a bright smile as Omen promised to try to arrange a date, then brightened when he asked for pictures. Pulling out a datapad, she sent Omen a few shots of Jhira in her red gown, but she grew quite serious when considering the strange Knight Jhira had befriended.

Eyeing her Aunt, who was born to keep secrets, she rushed to reveal as much as she could before there was protest.

“Sir Kyyrk Verros, Knight of Vylmira.”

“Vylmira’s Wrath,” Jhira said softly. “It matters to him.”

“He has some pretty profound history with the CIS and the Knight’s Obsidian, though I haven’t been able to sort out truth from propaganda yet.”

“A wound best left alone, Mia.”

“He was traded to the Sith, or something, as a young child. But he seems to have broken free of their darker teachings. Though he kept the glowing violet eyes and amazing voice; really, that voice …” Mia shook her head, torn as always with trying to decipher how much had been the Eldritch Knight’s own nature, and how much is power.

Jhira stirred, but it wasn’t like Kyyrk’s voice or race were truly secret. It was only that Jhira desired to protect him from additional wounds.

“He’s old, Omen; his past has wounded and haunted him. Yet I find I trust him, despite all his power and the strange sorrow he bears.”

A soft shake of Mia’s head and a whispered, later was meant to convey to Omen that she had more to share about Jhira’s most dangerous friend, but to otherwise she accepted her Aunt’s tacit insistence upon discretion.

Smile blossomed once more at Omen’s fierce grin, “They are nerds and philosophers; find Something nerdy for them to do, since philosophers don’t do anything at all.”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The Clone just nodded your welcome when Jhira smiled her Galaxy spanning smile, suppressing his own. "Anytime Vod and no, I drink only to taste my product, not for fun. It tends to bring back bad memories and dreams. I'm sure you know what they are from already..." He still did get bad nightmares from time to time as a constant but he was already used to them and paid them no heed. It was easier to just get them over with.

Omen scrolled through the pictures of Jhira all dressed up as he listened to their tale, making a mental note to look that name up some time so he could know a little bit about the man. "He sounds like a very interesting man with a very interesting past behind him and a very interesting future ahead of him. I'm guessing he will tell you when he is ready and comfortable with you which should be so hard knowing you two. Just don't be fooled. Though the CIS is full of alternative force users like him as I hear it of the space particles. I've only been there once or twice myself, to a Scarif resort party that was open to the public and another..." The trooper trailed off, wondering if he should talk about his crash before shrugging it off. Why not? "I also had a pretty bad crash but I got it repaired and even got a new friend out of the deal so overall impressions have been pretty good."

The oldie but goodie laughed when he heard Mia's qualifications for a date between the two alor's. "I'm sure stargazing will be just fine. Probably the most romantic thing I can think of for these two anyway."

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira leaned back, watching Omen and Mia, thinking about nightmares.

About forced cryo-sleep between missions, and no time off.

About friends closer than brothers, lost to a bitter, terrible enemy and just one moment in which the odds caught up to you.

About all the things she’d not said. Despite Omen’s abstinence, Jhira saluted the dead with a lift of her glass, “Absent friends.” she said softly, acknowledging the source of his nightmares. The liquid burned down her throat, promising a physical pain to mimic the spiritual. But she only nodded to Omen’s assurance that Kyyrk would choose to befriend her. He was … a hard man.

A smile flared, as Mia showed off her handiwork, and Jhira only shook her head. But she listened attentively as Omen spoke of his time in CIS space.

Both times.

“The Scarif Resort? Both of you heathen barbarians have been, and I have yet to go!” Laughter flooded Mia as she turned her attention to Omen. “I hope you enjoyed it? Beach? Pool? Excellent meals?”

After Omen had had the chance to answer Mia’s gentler enquiry, Jhira asked, “Who shot you down?” It could have been idle curiosity, given how gently she asked the question. But something in her tone of voice suggested it wasn’t.

“Please tell us of your new friend,” Jhira invited hastily, rather than inviting more torment about the proposed date with the Ramikad’alor.

But star gazing sounded easy, rather than stressful. And she wouldn’t need a dress, right? You could see the stars so much closer through a HUD.

A strange, niggling sensation as butterflies danced in her stomach suggested that she as missing the point.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen's chuckle cut through the room as he tried to reply to all the questions at once. "It was nice to find some time to myself and play my flute some. That was pretty much all I did since everyone left me alone. I wonder why?" The clone's eyes went to the ceiling above as his arms extended in a curse to the universe. He gave Mia's head a soft pet. "You will get there soon, even if I have to bring you there myself. A beach event would be fun to set up for you and your friends. As for the crashes..."

He held up fingers as he counted the number of crashes, going from 1 to 2 to at last 3. "The first one, coolant pump blew during my first cargo run because I forgot to replace it or thought it was still in working order. Caused me to make a crash landing on some CIS planet that I fail to remember. In exchange for help with repair services I gave my new friend, a former four armed CIS sith whatever, a ride off planet. 2nd time was Csilla. It was a skirmish between the Maw who had a roughed up fleet and the "Good" guys. I went up against the whole Maw fleet because well... why not I was bored and the two sides were just standing off against each other so I charged in head first in order to prevent the Maw from getting away too unimpeded. Long story short, sharpel made Rebirth's hull into swiss cheese and a SJC fighter wing had to come in and save me. Third time was at Korriban, got my engine shot out from under me and I had to crash land on the hull of the "Eternal Rule" . I boarded it, fought with the GA marines and was able to recover my ship in the aftermath. So yeah... I've been around..."

The Clone sat back in his chair and let the bundle of his information sink in. He knew the two would have questions and he was willing to answer them in full. All he had to do was wait.

Jhira Mereel

 

[Narissa Jondi]

wrong account

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira’s smile flared at Omen’s warm chuckle, and soon her laugher mingled with his. It occurred to her, this was the first family gathering he’d ever enjoyed. The first unguarded conversation with multiple people who genuinely cared. She had to take another sip of Tihaar, , even as she silently vowed it would not be his last.

“You are so skilled with your bes’vev.” Her head angled to the side, but before she could offer either comfort or a more reasoned explanation Mia cut in.

Nestling her head against Omen’s shoulder, Mia gave a hard hug to reassure him, only to then go still as he gently brushed fingers on her hair.

“They are afraid. Not of you, personally? But of any with the skill and will to kill at need. For an aruetti civilian, they are never sure if we’ll turn on them. Not because they are stupid; but because some honor-less scum do,”

A shy smile peeked out, when he promised to take her to the famous resort. A faint color tinged her cheeks. “Ooh! Oh, that would be ! You’re the best, Omen.”

“Four armed - CIS Sith?” amused horror rippled in Jhira’s voice. “You have a knack for finding the most unlikely friends.”

Her amusement washed away, when she learned he’d been at Csilla. The pained contempt in his voice, when he referred to the ‘good guys’ at Csilla hurt. The oblique description of the uneven battle left a weight in her stomach; she winced at how he’d charged the enemy fleet. He cared too deeply to have done nothing.

“Wait, you charged the whole fleet alone? They did nothing? Why didn’t they try to defend Csilla?” Mia’s voice squeaked out the first question, but had dropped to horrified whisper by the end.

Giving Omen a moment to answer, Jhira added, “Did you see the super-weapon?”

At last she had answer for his Silver Jedi connections. Hard not to feel some loyalty to somehow who saves you.

“Oya!” Expressed her quiet approval of Omen’s crashing his ship, into another ship, and then boarding it. Her smile tugged free, once more. “I don’t know much about the GA. Sounds like they have decent marines, though.”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

"It just takes practice. You can make anything happen if you put effort into it." Omen wrapped an arm around Mia as he tried not to fall over as she put her whole body weight onto him. He hoped that she didn't elevate him to hero status because it was going to be even harder to conceive her that he was ordinary. "I think they are just jealous their side lost the first time and I am a symbol of that loss. Either way, I know its just a minority who is butthurt, just like in everything." Those cheeks... Oh no, this might already have gone too far... Thankfully Jhira rescued him on the spot.

"I just get lucky sometimes and as long as I have an open mind people seem to keep theirs. I don't know what her exact story is but she is an interesting character." He tried to keep his face neutral as Mia asked about Csilla, though both could probably see the sadness. "I only arrived in time for the aftermath... It wasn't a fun scene... And yes, the two fleets were just standing off against each other, I guess the Silver and Imps didn't want to commit to a fight for whatever strategic reason. It's why I'm not a general. And no I didn't see the superweapon, just a dreadnaught"

His face became more pleasant as they moved on, chuckling at Jhira's call of celebration. He had only done a little thing and yet Jhira made it seem like he had saved the whole galaxy. It made him appreciate her even more. "They do seem to have a couple of good guys. Oh, I just forget to pay the TSE for the barrel of cleaner I lit on fire and rolled into what remained of their troopers. Oh well... Too late now..." He turned to Mia with a coy smile. "How about we go and get your computer from my ship plus maybe see if your Aunt has a closet shrine to Mr. Armor. Deal?"

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

“The modern CIS don’t really have a close spiritual or government connection to the original you remember, Omen. While they have some droid armies, it is not like it was. Their government is not run by the corporations or the Banker Clans or the Trade League. They have a surprising degree of autonomy in their planetary governments,” she shook her head, a soft laugh escaping. “It made that party particularly frustrating - I still had to deal with each planetary government individually for rights to hunt their Nexu.”

He knew it was particular subset that reacted poorly to a chiseled, handsome face famous hundreds of years after his progenitor had lived. A strange sort of burden; all the problems of a famous father and none of the comfort, protection or help of a family to show for it.

Leaning forward, Jhira rested her bandaged hand upon the table, the other cradling her drink. “I think it’s more than luck, Omen. You look beneath the surface of things, Omen. And you’ve a way with words.” she nodded approvingly.

Csilla was always - would always be - a painful topic. Jhira had been at the rescue and recovery effort; the images still haunted her; she nodded to his answers but did not linger upon the heavy topic.

Hearing that he’d gotten along well with the GA folks restored her smile; it rather higher when he spoke of the trouble he’d caused for the TSE. She waved them both off to play, when Omen invited Mia to go exclaim over his ship and receive her present, though it was her turn to color lightly.

“Any such materials, if they existed, would be under the strictest of military security,” Jhira was pretty safe, though; most of her treasures were Breshig Warforge and Strill Security catalogs and spreadsheets.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Mia Mereel]

​

Mia leapt to her feet, reaching down to tug Omen to his feet as well. “I know all her hiding places, too.” she paused to stick her tongue out at her Aunt, then led the way past the float pallet of forge gear, into the Clan’s living quarters. From there she cut through a side passage, dropped down a level in an anti grave chute, and popped out at the Hangar.

Omen’s: “Kodashi” Viper MKII was a beautiful collaboration between Mandal Motors and Concord Specialized Technologies. Mia could not help but to study the ship. She gave a little giggle, and pointed to the Strill securities universal launch tube.

“Mr. Amor is huge into modularity, right? Gives you options in battle.”

Mia shook her head, still trying to conceive of the odd concept of her very ordinary Aunt and that particular Mandalorian. Turning to face Omen, she grinned brightly and bounce on her toes, clearly eager for her present.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

No, the CIS was not the exact system that he had fought against back then but it was the same symbol, same flag, and maybe even the same rotten underbelly as his CIS though that was yet to be determined. The Clone let out a chuckle when she mentioned the word hunted. "Then why don't I see more Nexu rugs around here if you are hunting them? Their fur is pretty soft." He was clearly joking of course and supported her cause all the way. Anything to make Mandalore into a functioning world again.

Okay, maybe he was better at talking to people than he thought. Still, he had good days and bad days like everyone. He just could convince Bryn to stop murdering other people on his good days. "You could just say people love my adorable face and get it over with. But thanks, I appreciate the compliments and love."

Omen laughed his nerfing rear off when Jhira turned flush, knowing his guesses were correct. "So you are saying there is something, otherwise you would have completely denied it. It is always the good ones that have the weirdest things to hide." His eyes went up in surprise as he was pulled from his seat only to chuckle at Mia's words as she lead him aggressively towards the hanger. "It will be an interesting adventure to be sure."

As the Clone get Mia's computer out of the cockpit, he couldn't keep the smile off of his face. It was nice, being loved. "Something with different firing modes is that the weapon may be less optimized overall but it still puts bolts in the air just fine. That's all that matters in the end." He offered out the computer to her with a grin as wide as the galaxy. "Here you go, don't go shorting out the whole of the Maw's communications network with it all in one go. Now, lets see what dirt we can dig up. Lead the way."

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira laughed, shaking her head at Omen, the light in her eyes and playful tone of vice making it very clear she knew Omen was teasing. “No rugs! We need them alive. And I did manage to buy some off of a noble,” she shook her head, still bemused at the hobbies of the professionally unemployed. Her smile softened, and she saluted Omen with her glass of Tihaar. Making sure family knew they were loved could be a challenging task; that omen both knew it, and could say it warmed her all the way through.

It was everything, to be loved.

Watching after them, Jhira found herself wondering about the deep connections that sometimes sprung up between people. The sudden assure that this person belonged; that they would kill or die for you, and you for them. Sometimes it took time. Sometimes, you just knew.

Knew they were family who would do anything for you. Who loved you without rhyme or reason.

Even if it meant two Vode determined to …

They wouldn’t. Would they?

Would.

Jhira glided to her feet, swept up her Tihaar and made her way to her private quarters. There were things there not for prying eyes, no matter how well intentioned or beloved.