Private Family Time

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Kryze Clangrounds - Jenn's Home
| Objective | Family Time

Few places in the sector were more secure than the lands under Clan Kryze's protection. The Clangrounds were no fortress, to be sure; merely a budding village in the highlands with naught but palisade wall to keep creatures out! But only a fool would think to assail such a place, and they would need more than merely fortune to make it past the unseen eyes of the kyramud; those warriors whose shame brought them to abandon honor and glory forevermore, sworn into lifelong service to the Alor, striking from the shadows against any who would do their people harm, unburdened by any other virtue than duty.​

​

Under Jenn's guidance, the Mandalorians of Clan Kryze eked out a humble, yet no less tranquil existence. Their homes were of stone, wood, and wicker; the only exception to such a choice of architecture was found in their infirmary, kept modern by necessity. At sundown, hunters would return from the wilderness and farmers from the lowlands, sharing food and conversation alike with one another around the campfire within the heart of the agora - or within the privacy of their own homes, depending on individual preference. Communal living was, although encouraged, never enforced.​

​

Although Jenn often found herself busy with those duties required of her as Alor, her near-death experience during the fierce defense of the Jedi Temple but a few weeks back served as a harsh reminder of the fleeting nature of existence, and just how quickly her thread may be severed... and so she endeavored to spend more time with her treasured child. While largely given the liberty of pursuing her own aspirations, Varys was ever welcomed with a gentle embrace and a dose of relief by her mother; mindful as she was of the intrepid young warrior's tendency to wander, Jenn had gone through some lengths to ensure that she was given a calm and comfortable home to return to. Humble as their household may be, it was still a far cry from the teen's humble lodgings under a tent among her old family in Clan Amun. Hers was a lovely furnished bedroom, the mattress of her bed wonderful to sink into after a long day of work and the pillows carefully fluffed up by her mother, to say nothing of the simple, if tender addition of a shark plushie sitting upon her bed when she was first shown her room. A large wardrobe offered her the chance to keep her outfits nice and tidy, should she ever wish to explore casualwear, and a mannequin in the corner stood ready to accept her beskar'gam; but perhaps most telling of all was the workbench, clearly meant for her child to tend to her kites.​

​

A gentle hum filled the air, then, as the proud mother went about preparing dinner; a task she rarely pursued, perhaps, but did so with enthusiasm. It was a chance for her to get her mind off of her obligations, busying her hands with something much more simple than smithing, for once. Chopping vegetables, carefully carving meat from bone... it was busy work, yet not fastidious, and she adored the task all the more for it. Her thoughts wandered, then, distantly reminded of an obscure Clan of Mandalorians once known for their tea, of all things. A fact that earned them quite a bit of ridicule from the larger Clans over the years, and yet... Jenn could not help but admire them for it. When Clans such as Saxon and Vizsla became infamous for their dark deeds, perhaps it was better to be known for a humble craft.​

​

"Varys?" called the fiery-haired siren as she gently tapped her knuckles against the door leading to her room. "Dinner's ready, ad'ika!"​

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Her room was quiet and dark, lit by flickering candles and scented with subtle incense. The round rug in the centre bore a tufted crest of Clan Kryze. In the corner, pushed against the wall, was a bed piled with blankets and fluffy pillows, and buried somewhere in the middle was a dour teenager.

The voice of her mother started Varys awake and she sat up with a jolt, intinctively reaching around for the blade she kept by the entrance for when animals came poking about, only to find she wasn't where she thought.

This was not Dantooine, but Onderon. Her room, not her tent. Varys let out a held breath, laying back on the bed and rubbing her eyes. Varys heard Jenn call for her again. Had she really slept till dinner? By the stars, she was getting lazy.

Varys swung her legs over the bed and rubbed sleep from her eyes. Varys batted the switch for the wall light. Wincing at the sudden brighness, she grumbled and stood.

"Ven olaro pror, Buir. Coming soon." Varys called back, her voice still thick. Not wanting to keep her mother waiting any longer, Varys forwent her usual beskar'gam and instead fumbled around the floor until she retrieved a pair of hide sandals, woven together with red-dyed sinew, that she'd carelessly tossed aside an evening prior. She also tiptoed to her drawers and rummaged through the mess until she'd retrieved some loose fitting and slightly wrinkled pants, and a soft woolen jerkin that she threw over her nightshirt.

Ready now, Varys looked around her room. Jenn had made the utmost effort to make sure Varys had everything she needed to be comfortable. Even if she could not always be around, Jenn had done more for Varys than Lyka ever had. Even beneath the piles of clothes, carelessly placed knick-knacks and general teenaged untidiness, love still emanated from the very walls of Varys' space.

Varys emerged from the bedroom mid-yawn, shuffling towards the kitchen where Jenn was busy at work plating their meal. She instantly recognised the scent of tiingilar. The medley of spices, varied each time but always applied liberally, never failed to make her mouth water. It was always a treat when Jenn cooked for her, rare thought it was, because her meal would not have to be watered down and overcooked in a great pot, so that it could feed a hundred hungry bellies.

Not that she'd complain if it was, of course. Even in the short months Varys had been sojourning to neighbouring prefectures, getting to know Onderon well, she had seen many a hungry frame, and Varys would not allow herself to become like the spoiled residents of the queen's palace who would turn their nose up at a perefectly good stew because it did not suit their tastes.

"Vor'e. Thank you, this looks delicious."

Varys set about setting the table, placing the well-used utensils in their spots either side of the hewn wood table, such that mother and daughter would face each other.

"Will you be staying long this time, Buir?" There was no judgement in the question. Varys knew that Jenn was often called to duties on Onderon or elsewhere. The role of Alor was one of responsibility and sacrifice. Besides, the arrangement suited Varys well enough. She knew she was a sullen and difficult person. She was working on that, but she benefited from the space.

"All ready." said Varys, having laid a pair of cloth napkins on the table. "Let's eat."

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Kryze Clangrounds - Jenn's Home
| Objective | Family Time

Whenever her gaze was brought to rest upon her child, Jenn forgot all about the weight of her duty. Leading her Clan across uncharted waters was a difficult proposition at the best of times, to say nothing of how insurmountable the task looked to her when under the effects of exhaustion, or fighting against the tender song of the ocean that never quite left her - but seeing her daughter up and about reminded her of just how blessed she was, in the end. Although foreign to her at first, the Mandalorian had taken to family life with an eagerness few could hope to equal.​

​

"How has the week been treating you, ad'ika?" asked the siren kindly as she sat herself down onto a chair, her features soft. As ever, the food had been served in ample portions; her mindset had always been to make more than one might need to eat rather than less, after all. A generous helping of game meat brought in by the hunters in the afternoon, seasoned with the strong blend of spices Mandalorian cuisine was renowned for, was accompanied by potatoes and salad; for now, the vegetables were bought from Onderonian farmers, as Clan Kryze's more arable lands were yet to bear their first harvest.​

​

Although intimidated at first, the locals were slowly warming up to their new protectors... and a few adventurous youths had come to answer the Alor's unprecedented call for volunteers to join the budding auxiliary forces meant to pad the Clan's fighting force. Every single day, a handful of Mandalorian instructors drilled their recruits mercilessly in tests of endurance, strength, and marksmanship: many were weeded out by the process and returned to their homes, but some yet persevered. It was Jenn's hope that these tenacious recruits might prove to the more recalcitrant of her warriors that bonds of fellowship built with aruetiise would benefit them in the long run.​

​

"I will be staying here for a week or so", came the Alor's answer as she took her utensils and began to carefully slice the meat into smaller bites. Clad in a simple, yet elegant toga of white and gold, the woman could hardly mask the rather glaring changes in her physiology; ever since her return from the fierce battle for the fate of Coruscant, Jenn... had been unable to shift back into her more human form. Scales covered her hands and forearms, and yet more of them circled her eyes, descending towards her cheeks in an elegant, flowing pattern, their hue shifting from one shade of blue to the next with each passing moment. Whenever she spoke, one was granted a chance to look to her teeth, and see just how sharp her fangs were... a promise of savagery, kept under a lid. And yet, for all of her monstrous(ly beautiful) features, Jenn remained the very picture of the proud mother to her child.​

​

"Most of the Nite Owls are still recuperating from their wounds, but Pollux and Karrys are seeing to the day-to-day running of the village for now. Gives me a chance to rest, and... spend more time with you." There was a beat, then, and she let out a sigh. "I know you understand the weight of my responsabilities, Varys, but- you are my daughter. And I want to be there for you." ​

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys twirled her fork, playing with her food. An annoying habit she had picked up during their stay at the Queen's palace, where the food had been so plentiful and rich that it had turned Varys' stomach. She loved Jenn's cooking, but the undercurrent of anxious anticipation arcing through her body had spoiled her appetite.

"My week has been fine." Varys said with careful neutrality. "I have been helping with the farm, mostly. And training."

Truthfully, Varys had been working herself into the ground. She spent long days on the farm, followed by the lengthy list of evening chores she could not avoid as one of the clan's young. When she waz finally released from her duty she would meet Karrys, and spar fiercely with quarterstaves until the evening light faded and they could no longer see, or more often, until Varys lay bruised and defeated in the dirt.

But Varys knew she could work harder. She had to. Jenn would see she was ready. She would not be able to ignore it.

"You should see how hard I've been working, Buir." said Varys, proudly holding up her bruised arms for Jenn to appraise. "I could give you a run for your money in a match." Probably untrue. "And I can fly the kite out all the way up the coast without having to stop." Also a bit of a stretch.

"I will be staying here for a week or so",

Varys smiled and nodded at that, unable to hide her pleasure at the fact Jenn would remain at the camp a full week. When Jenn was here, Varys was temporarily freed from the everyday routines, from scrubbing laundry and hoeing dirt plots, sewing seeds and getting her butt handed to her by Karrys on the training grounds.

With Jenn here she could linger, become the woman's shadow again, listen and watch and learn as she went about her business as Alor, perhaps slowly convince her that maybe, just maybe, Varys belonged by her mother's side, putting out fires in the embattled alliance, instead of watching over the homestead with the young and the frail.

At the very least, she'd be able to show Jenn some new kite tricks.

"Ni briikase. I'm glad" said Varys, having sorted through the tangled feelings in her gut."Pollux seems convinced he's going to be the next Henryk." Varys snorted derisively. "Which to him apparently means making us run laps around the camp until we hurl." One balmy evening a few weeks back Varys had lingered out of sight behind the border wall, waiting until the last of the children lumbered past before confidently sprinting past them to the finishing point at the camp-fire, having barely broken a sweat.

She was awarded with a double-shift at the infirmary.

All that was to say, Varys was glad Jenn was home.

"I know you understand the weight of my responsabilities, Varys, but- you are my daughter. And I want to be there for you."

Varys nodded and smiled, though secretly she was disappointed she would not be able to stand by Jenn's side as she ran the camp and steered their people from crisis. Still, she would have her mother's ear.

"Riye. We should do something then. A walk. A sparring match. I can show you some kitework."

Varys chewed thoughtfully.

"No farming lessons though. Stars know the idiot children here should have figured it out for themselves by now."

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Kryze Clangrounds - Jenn's Home
| Objective | Family Time

"So I hear, senaar'ika", spoke the kind and caring mother softly. Her next words, however, spoke of concern. "Pollux tells me you train harder than most... but- try and make sure you give yourself the time to rest, Varys." ​

​

A far cry from Lyka Amun's pointed words, should her daughter fall short of her expectations; although she never quite fussed over her child, worried as she was of stifling her, Jenn looked after her in a way she still seemed so surprised by at times. Although thoroughly inexperienced when it came to parenting, Varys' adoptive mother certainly tried her best to look after her adventurous daughter. There were detractors, of course; those who simply did not trust the girl, giving her sidelong glares and calling her holding onto the name Amun a mark of shame. Jenn was not so oblivious as to be ignorant of such bullying, nor foolish enough to believe that she could always be there to stand up for her treasured daughter.​

​

What she could do, however, was ensure that Varys was well looked after during those times when duty called her elsewhere. Karrys was but one such agent of this design, keeping company to the teen and letting her fists do the talking when the pair were set upon by resentful brats; Pollux, eccentric as he might be in the eyes of others for his great love of Ukatian culture, was just as keen to notice those who would single out Varys as he was to punish her for showing too much pride and entering the territory of arrogance. Free of the bias held by those raised in the culture from a young age, some of the Onderonian recruits recognized Varys from her spectacular entrance during the ceremony held for her mother's knighting and spoke excitedly of their appreciation for the art of birdship.​

​

A smile pulled at the Alor's lips at the sight of the bruises, tender and soft; a strange mix of pride and worry was expressed by her eyes, then, as she let out a warm chuckle. "Then you and I shall spar in the morning", offered the siren, a certain playfulness behind her words. "Have you found which weapon best suits you, yet? Perhaps I can take you to the forge later, so we can forge a weapon fit for your hands."​

​

The mention of farming claimed more than an amused chuckle from her mother, but a full-throated laugh - one so very full of life that most would find it contagious.​

​

"Alright, alright - I won't ask you to show me how our fields are doing", reassured the siren before bringing a cut of meat to her mouth with her fork, delighting in the strong mix of spices. They were far from Manda'yaim, but the culture yet lived in through them; from the language down to the cuisine. "It's an important lesson in patience, you know. Most other Clans would find the thought of farming laughable, unworthy of a warrior - but where they are throwing themselves headlong yet another Crusade, we have something far better for ourselves. Home."​

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Try and make sure you give yourself the time to rest, Varys."

Varys tried her best at an effusive smile, something which did not come naturally to her. She nodded, but inwardly, she could not agree. Varys was young, inescapably immature, and for that reason she was weak. She could never tell Jenn, but there was one lesson she had taken from Lyka she would never forget: the weak are crushed. Varys would not be caught out, wouldn't allow herself to be the helpless baby bird in need of protecting, and that meant she could. not. rest.

"Have you found which weapon best suits you, yet? Perhaps I can take you to the forge later, so we can forge a weapon fit for your hands."

"There is one, that feels right." said Varys slowly, measuring her excitement. "A javelin. One of my ancestors used a type- Hold on..."

Varys rose suddenly from the table and dashed back to her room, emerging a moment later with the familiar battered tome of Senaar'sen: A Beginner's Guide and setting it down on the table with a puff of dust, her half-eaten stew momentarily forgotten.

"Ahhh. Here." Varys flipped the book around, revealing to Jenn a rough illustration of a javelin. The weapon was mostly unremarkable but for the holes in its point, labelled 'whistling' and the wide lump at the base labelled 'flight system'. Around the drawing, arrows and scribbled notes expanded on the design, crossed out and written over many times. They said things like 'Songsteel' 'lightweight' and 'returns to its owner'.

"An ancient warrior of the Amuns, Aurelia, used this spear once." said Varys with some reverance. "I would very much like to use something like it." Aurelia, author of A Beginner's Guide, was a Clan elder from long before the Amun's had abandoned their honour, before they had licked the boots of the Sith. She was everything Varys wanted to be, but she, and all who remembered her, were long dead.

Varys felt eager now. She had spent long evenings spear-training with Karrys, and early mornings on the coastline throwing hand-whittled javelins over the dunes. The weapon was right for her, and with Jenn to craft it, she knew it would be perfect.

"I am fast on my feet, I have a good arm, and it'll keep my opponent at a distance. Karrys can hardly hit me nowadays." That was a stretch. Karrys usually found a way to get around Varys' defences, but lately she was giving her a run for her money.

"So, think you can make it?"

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Kryze Clangrounds - Jenn's Home
| Objective | Family time

Many were those among the Clan who found their Alor's gaze... a little too intense for them to withstand. In spite of her attempts to remain somewhat connected to the common man, the Warmother held a certain aura about her; those who looked upon her knew they were in the presence of a legend, the likes of which echoed in eternity through song. Whether her tale would be one of renewal or doomed heroism was yet to be seen, but her gaze pierced through beskar and flesh with frightening ease, all but peering into the very soul of those courageous enough to request an audience. Try as she might to soften such a keen edge, the Mandalorian's softly glowing eyes retained their mystical influence - to say nothing of how the Jaig Eyes etched upon the helm seemed just as piercing, if not more.​

​

All in all... Jenn had never meant to leave her treasured daughter intimidated by her, but her very nature made that a little difficult at times. Vary was a poor actor, and her mother saw through the empty gesture with ease; the real struggle was in deciding how best to handle the situation. A greater challenge than leading warriors in battle, or even navigating the treacherous waters of politics, for she held no experience when it came to parenthood beyond her own upbringing on Manda'yaim. ​

​

In the end, she chose silence over words that may be taken as chiding. A fierce Mandalorian she may be, her daughter remained a teenager, possessed with the undeniably rebellious spirit most people her age displayed - the last thing Jenn wanted was to drive a wedge between the both of them. Offering a small, yet comforting smile, the Alor watched on with a lift of her brow as Varys hurried off into her room to fetch... her most prized possession. Although the little bird's mother had never read the dusty old tome, respectful of her child's boundaries as she was, its importance was plain to see. Her daughter still held the name Amun, after all, and Jenn suspected that the pages held the allure of what once was - of the glory of her Clan, before they bowed down before the Sith and betrayed their people.​

​

The Forgemistress remained quiet, then, as she drank in the rough schematics laid out before her; a concept that would need refining, to be sure, but something that presented a chance for her to explore an exotic idea and challenge herself. There was no mistaking how her features grew a little sharper, then, not unlike the clan's aliik, the owl. This was the gaze of an experienced goran of the Mando'ade, equaled by few in her craft, appraising a new task set before her.​

​

Her daughter's voice was all the more heartwarming for the eagerness behind her words, drawing her attention from the illustration to the impetuous young warrior she had accepted so readily into her home. A warm chuckle escaped her, then, as she slowly closed the book with a slow and reverential motion of her hand. "When we made your beskar'gam, it was fashioned after you - an expression of your soul. We kept it light, so that you can dodge, dance, and fly with ease. A weapon that complements you is the right fit... and we will forge it together. But not before you finish your plate, young lady." ​

​

Her smile shifted from tenderly affectionate to slightly mischievous, then; a light-hearted touch of teasing between mother and daughter that came to her all too easily. Absent as she might be at times because of her duties, Jenn was no less devoted a mother.​

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys saw what she thought was a flicker of disapproval on Jenn's face, but just as soon as it appeared it was gone, and her expression returned to the picture of casual warmth it usually was. Varys tried to hold her mother's gaze, but she could not, and she looked away, cheeks burning.

She watched with bated breath as Jenn's hands traced the design. Varys knew Jenn well enough to know that she was pleased. The light in her unnerving eyes was enough of a tell. Varys' heart soared.

"When we made your beskar'gam, it was fashioned after you - an expression of your soul. We kept it light, so that you can dodge, dance, and fly with ease. A weapon that complements you is the right fit... and we will forge it together. But not before you finish your plate, young lady."

"Vor entye, Buir. I knew you would, and I think you will be pleased with what I can do with such a weapon."

With the weapon in hand, Varys would have everything she needed to follow her adoptive mother into battle. Still, she knew Jenn would not yet say yes, so she had to be subtle about it. Once Jenn saw Varys on the battlefield, fighting with her clan and holding her own, there would be no argument, no begging. She would be the Alor's sword.

Maybe then, Varys would be able to face up to her past, to confront the Amun's and extend them a final olive branch with the confidence she had finally proven herself. That day would be soon. Varys knew she was ready. Jenn's words had filled Varys with energy and zeal. Months of training, months of waiting, it was time to put into action that which she had been dreaming about since the night she first met Jenn, the night of her adoption, of the abandonment of her family and her home.

First, she would prove herself on the battlefield, prove her prowess undeniably to her Alor.
Then, she would confront the Amuns, bring them to heel or else cast them aside.
Finally, she would face the very Sith, and butcher every soul whose boots had ever touched the burned soil of Manda'yaim.

Varys ate the rest of her meal with fervor, and hoped that Jenn had not developed an ability to read her thoughts.

Jenn Kryze