Private No time like the present

[Jenn Kryze]

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jenn's footsteps were the only man-made sound as she walked through the makeshift settlement, keenly aware of how inconspicuous the location was. Frak, had she not been looking for a specific location, she would have completely overlooked something so innocuous! But she was a hunter at heart, and there was no trail she couldn't follow, single-minded as she was... and she had a most solemn mission to accomplish. The complete absence of any sign of life in the camp put her on her guard- especially when it was so obvious that people came here every so often. With her blaster in hand, the warrior slowly made her way over to the elevator shaft she had been directed to, remaining alert for any movement.

When she finally did find the elevator shaft, the Mandalorian easily made her way past the electric fence- after all, there already was a convenient man-sized hole cut out for her. Returning the blaster to its holster, she peered down to try and get an idea of the height: after a minute of staring in silence at the bottom, she took a couple steps back... and, with effortless grace, she jumped down.

To be Mandalorian was to become one with the beskar protecting one's body- something that made the use of a jetpack a lot easier, treating it as an extension of one's body. Roaring to life, the device strapped around her back slowed her fall, controlled so perfectly that she ended up floating a few inches from the bottom of the elevator shaft. As soon as the jetpack was turned off once more, a loud CLANG echoed throughout. Now, all that was left was to find her way into this place- a place so difficult to acquire that she had to grease palms, call in favours, and beat up a few people senseless to get an inkling of its rumoured location.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy's elbow bumped off the dejarik board as she shot up from leaning back on a floor cushion. Arisso, the Technobeast playing against her, beat her to asking, "What was that?" It sounded too loud, too close, to be a break in one of the factory pipes downstairs in either the coolant reactor or power coupling station.

"Dunno," admitted the Shifter, taking a stand with eyes closed. She wasn't too good at Force Sight; sometimes she could just make out silhouettes of fuzzy energies and sometimes she couldn't even feel an empyrean warmth standing more or less right next to her, but fortunately this time fell into the former category. She felt something coming from someone, untagged with a location. Opening her eyes, she huffed at herself. Chit, she thought. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

With that, Damsy slipped out of the common hall Arisso had taken to calling the qabbrat. She gravitated the haft of her electrotrident to her hand. As she spun the pronged head so that it was facing forward, then shook the grip to extend out the staff, she found herself praying to Ashla the Jedi hadn't found the Sanctorium yet. Moving through the control room, Damsy quietly lay her back near the doorway into the abandoned reception area and slowly peered through the plastic sheet hanging in it. The otherwise translucent white was interrupted in the middle by vibrant red spray paint making the shape of an outlined square with dovetailed corners: some kind of logo.



**
Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Completely unaware of the fact that her presence was known to the occupants of the impressively well-hidden refuge, the Mandalorian readjusted the satchel attached to her belt and removed her blaster from its holster, progressing slowly through the passage leading into the reception area- and when she entered that area, her martial approach was made obvious to the woman looking into the room. Her helmet slowly turned left and right, checking every spot for an ambush... and then, without warning, she dropped down to one knee and raised her wrist in Damsy Callat 's general direction, panels shifting to reveal a rocket. That she did not fire yet showed a commitment to identifying her foe before she fired- and besides, she had only seen faint movement out of her peripheral vision.

The aim was to get a potential enemy to panic and reveal themselves- to put some pressure and end up in a position of strength. Not that it always went that way- sometimes, it escalated a conflict when her enemy was not perceptive enough to realize that she could fire the wrist rocket well before they could even attack, mistaking her threat as an attempt on their life.

"Come out."
Her voice was hard, and inflexible.

 

[Damsy Callat]

The buy'ce* didn't leave any question in Damsy's mind as to what the intruder was—a Mandalorian, woman by the sound of vocabulated voice—but not about what she was here for.

Damsy pulled back behind cover. Though she hadn't spoken Mando'a in some time, her tertiary language flowed off her tongue with the fluidity of her Basic: "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod**?" A little more than a smack in the face would be awaiting this stranger if she didn't answer these questions to the Sithspawn's liking.

"Tion'ad hukaat'kama***?"

She just had to figure out what it would be instead. Damsy had the high ground half a level above the lobby floor, up the scaffolding and across the catwalk leading into the control room, but she didn't have the range. Trident versus blaster was a foregone conclusion with this much distance between them.



**
Jenn Kryze

Spoiler: mando'a translations

* = helmet
** = are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?
*** = who's watching your back?

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Of all the things she had expected, being spoken to by an unidentified target in Mando'a was genuinely far down the list. Although she remained on high alert, it did give her hope that she had come to the right place... and was perhaps speaking to the right woman. Still, that hardly meant that she was going to relax when a blaster was potentially being pointed at her from an angle she would never see coming! And so it was that she allowed the panels to retract and cover the rocket once more, choosing instead to rely on her blaster to try and get a fix on this mysterious opponent's location.

"Ne shab'rud'niÖ."*
As always, she was a woman of few words, and she kept them meaningful.

It was that last sentence that really got a rise out of her, however- no matter how clear it was to her that she could return the prize peacefully. The way she reacted was physically violent, her very being radiating a great deal of frustration, as if those words finally added too much weight to the burden she carried on her back. The mere suggestion that she would rely on someone to watch her back, innocuous as it may be, was perceived as a grave insult by the Mandalorian.

"Ni hukaatii'ni shebs ti kama!"**
Her voice was suffused with rage now, the grip on her blaster far tighter than it had any right to be. Still, she grit her teeth, and moved her hand to the satchel firmly wrapped around her belt, tapping it for emphasis.

"I've come to return what remains of a cousin's beskar'gam. Nothing more. Tayli'bac?"***
Mando'a had a way to make her true feelings bubble to the surface- slipping back into Basic was a conscious effort on her part to avoid fully slipping down the slope of her unresolved issues.

**
Damsy Callat

Spoiler

*Don't mess with me!
**I'm covering my back!
***Got it? Okay? Understand? (Aggressive)

 

[Damsy Callat]

Goddamn.

Touchy.

She just wanted some indication of if she should expect more guests.

Wait.

Beskar'gam?

Damsy blinked and took her finger away from the button that would have sparked up her weapon's prongs.

Cousin?

The only family she had now was the one that congregated here, in the Reef, Sithspawn she and her friends had patchworked from around the galaxy—namely former Sith space. And none of them wore beskar. She hadn't seen her own set in so damn lon—

Damsy shook her head at herself, then scoffed. Of course. Good ole college try, both of you, she thought. Had her father really sent someone to track her all the way to the Core in hopes of guilting her back to Krant? In hindsight, she shouldn't have been stupid enough to think he would have just accepted her resignation, and expected him to catch up to her one of these days. But here she was: surprised. "Think you meant to go to Netra'yaim, vod," she hollered. "You're a few kiloparsecs northwest. The alor* would be tickled you returned that chit. Really, real nice of ya. But I don't handle that no more."



**
Jenn Kryze

Spoiler: mando'a translations

* = boss

 

[Jenn Kryze]

There was a long, long pause in the wake of those words. The Mandalorian's mind was filled with questions- questions that were answered as she was forced to face the fact that she had done all of this for nothing. All the effort to find this place, to get a fix on the woman that stood before her... and the only reward for it was more frustration added onto the ever-growing pile of unresolved issues that festered at the back of her mind, eating away at her for every time she put off the prospect of facing them. Of facing herself.

"The scavenger I killed croaked the name of one Damsy Callat 'fore I put a bolt through his skull. I'm guessing that's you- and that I tracked you down for nothing?"
Okay, granted, she couldn't blame her for her own failings- she was acting on old, incomplete intel. Not that it meant the length of her failure any more tolerable, of course... but she lowered her blaster nonetheless, and returned it to its holster. There was no point in fighting someone who had done her no wrong, even less so when that someone spoke Mando'a and shared a loose cultural heritage.

That didn't stop her from inhaling sharply, trying to contain the rising anger within her- she was tired, so very tired... and being tired did not help with her temper. She had no right to intrude on the woman's business- hell, turning heels and leaving was the right thing to do. Naturally, in her current state, she wasn't interested in doing the right thing.

"Don't handle that no more, uh? So, what... you turned your back on our ways to squat in a hideout, hiding?"
That wasn't fair. None of her words were, and a part of her recognized that. She wasn't being fair with Damsy Callat , but she felt as if she was on the verge of exploding in a cloud of fury and pent-up aggression. And the words that followed most certainly didn't help.
"Or maybe you're not hiding. Maybe you're protecting something valuable. Or someone."

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy didn't confirm she was, in fact, herself, but she also didn't deny it.

Instead, she didn't miss a beat to circle back in their conversation.

"Imma say somethin' controversial yet brave: there's more to life than the Resol'nare, lady." She was expecting that to illicit more rage since this one seemed to be one of the zealous Mandalorians, but then again more of them were. "You wouldn't understand what I'm doin' here, but I promise you it sure as hell ain't hiding." At least it wasn't for hiding's sake. It was to gather strength. Gartner support. Stockpile equipment. Damsy Callat, former Warmistress of House Verd, amongst other things, and current Padawan with the New Jedi Order, had plans for Coruscant.

And they were very much worth eventually dying for.

With a hand's flourish, Damsy had reached for the Force to bat at the plastic door drape. At nearly the same moment, she harmlessly tossed her trident outside; it clattered to the scaffolding floor noisily. A yield of sorts was made if the armoured woman would take it.

"You don't need to believe me; just please leave us alone. There's honour even after dar'manda, and I've found mine."



**
Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

"We are nothing without the Resol'nare!"
Predictably, her voice conveyed more than anger- there was a great deal of outrage filling every last syllable that formed the words leaving that characteristic buy'ce of hers. Then again, it seemed as if her head was a lot thicker than the beskar that protected it, if her fanaticism was anything to go by.

"I don't know what happened to make you turn your back on the true path, but you've denied yourself the afterlife. What could be worth this fate? Why would you abandon us?"
Rage subsided, replaced by dawning horror, confusion... and pity. She had never been granted the chance to interact with many of her kind- more moderate members of their great culture were all but unknown to her, leaving her to bask in a shockingly radical interpretation of what it meant to be Mandalorian. How could she possibly know that she was just as deserving of pity in the face of her blind zealotry...

"You're right- I can't understand choosing to be dishonored and forsaken as you are."
The words were firm, but no longer hateful- it almost felt like she felt hurt, as if the very notion that someone could willingly walk away from what made up her entire identity was anathema to the order of things she had come to accept. Her eyes remained fixated on that trident at first, as if she considered tossing it back to this foolish woman- to refuse her yield and fight her was an appealing prospect, and yet...

She could be more than this. Slowly, she walked over to pick up that weapon, looking up in complete silence for a solid minute.
"I will leave this place and keep it a secret... on the condition that you tell me everything. Why you left us behind, who you are protecting- everything. Are those terms acceptable?"

**
Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy sighed quietly behind the control room threshold, using the next few moments and additional breaths not to figure out if to accept the Mandalorian's terms or not, but where to start. There was so much to cover. Whatever. She wasn't going to launch into soliloquy here; she had too big of a sense of xenia to. And she trusted in the Resol'nare enough to in turn trust this woman's word even if Damsy herself didn't practice anymore.

The Sithspawn ducked through the doorway, holding plastic to the side with the back of her hand now. "Hope no one's waiting up for you," she said at a more normal volume. Coming to stand at the scaffolding catwalk railing, she extended her hand down towards the other woman. A short staircase was all she had to climb to be face-to-face with the woman she had been looking for. "'Cause we'll be here at least all night."

And then:

"Ya want some caf?"

As they traced Damsy's steps back into the common hall, it soon became evident there also was nyork chowder—and some kind of crackers and cheese. The smells mixed with the atmospheric scent of slight engine grease. Even though this room was decorated much more quaintly than the reception or control rooms, but still the memory of long-ago industrial land-use permeated. From around a low durasteel table, Arisso stood. "Damsy..."

"It's a'ight," she said, holding up a hand to interrupt him. "The past's caught up with me, it seems. We'll play 'nother round later, yeah?"

"Sure," he agreed, nodding, tone still shone through with his lack of understanding.

Damsy glanced over to the Mandalorian woman as if to ask if she wanted him to stay or leave.



**
Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

There was something of a tense moment as the intruder simply stared at Damsy Callat 's outstretched hand, as if... something in her mind simply failed to process the information. Try as she might, she could not hide the way her right hand kept shaking, contrasting heavily with how tense her whole body looked. Slowly, step by step, she climbed up to meet with the object of her hunt- the woman she had hoped would receive the return of the lost beskar'gam and send her on her way. And now, there she was: struggling to fulfill what most would consider a basic social interaction.

That outstretched hand was not shaken, or her forearm clasped around- instead, she respectfully returned the trident into its palm, a slight nod being the only motion to accompany the gesture. Never had she felt so painfully out of her element before.
"I can wait."
Another terse statement, as was her habit to deliver- something that was so ingrained within her that she struggled to be more verbose at times. Only anger managed to get her to talk some more, a fact she could only lament when she was assured that none would witness her miserable outlook on her social skills.

The offer for some caf elicited some genuine confusion from her, Jenn's head turning towards Damsy in silence. There was yet another pause before she spoke- yet another sign of her social awkwardness, something that became a lot more noticeable when she was genuinely trying to interact in a non-aggressive manner.
"To remove the buy'ce in the presence of another living being is against our ways. Have you forgotten?"

To her credit, there was more confusion in her voice than anything else, meaning that she was perceptive enough to realize that Damsy had not meant the words as a veiled insult. She was still looking over the features of her guide with a great deal of curiosity by the time they reached the common hall, clearly intent on burning her visage into her mind. Such curiosity was simply borne of the fact that she had never met a Mandalorian forgoing their helmet, and despite her harsh judgement on her abandonment of their ways... she found the notion of turning her back on someone that was once vod to be a difficult prospect.

The sight of a new person snapped her out of such a state, of course, and she immediately redirected her gaze towards Arisso. Not a single word left her lips as she looked him over, snapping back into this warlike state of mind that accompanied her every waking thought. Even as the two exchanged words, she kept staring, her mind thinking of ways to take on the both of them at once in case she had walked into a trap. An unhealthy outlook, to be sure, but one that had become a part of her, and would take much effort to remove.

"Just the two of us."
Realizing that another terse reply spoken in a tense tone was hardly going to win her any favours, she swallowed her pride... and added something else.
"Please."

 

[Damsy Callat]

"To remove the buy'ce in the presence of another living being is against our ways. Have you forgotten?"

She kind of had.

"My aliit* wasn't about that, but, hey, to each their own. You do you."

She waved Arisso off in the common hall. "It'll be 'right, bro. Go on," she promised, but it was the following smile that finally convinced him to leave to wherever he had bade the others go a few minutes prior.

Damsy looked down to retract her trident from full length and return it to her belt. As she was working, she muttered, "Take a seat anywhere ya want, if you want."



**
Jenn Kryze

Spoiler: mando'a translations

* = tribe

 

[Jenn Kryze]

"What do you mean, not about that?"
Judging by the sheer confusion behind her words, she was genuinely puzzled by such an affirmation- reinforcing the idea that she could simply not fathom another way to follow the Resol'nare than the one imparted upon her by her Clan. Nobody had burst her bubble yet, her contact with other Mandalorians practically non-existent... until now.

Although she wished to ask more about the matter, something held her back- namely, the fact that she was already intruding on something that clearly went beyond this woman's personal life. Without a word, Jenn pulled up a chair and sat down, carefully placing her blaster on the table, intending the gesture as a sign of goodwill. It would be a lot easier to see her getting violent like this than if she kept it beneath the table, after all.

**
Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy took a seat opposite the woman who's name she had yet to learn. Still, this lady was as no nonsense as they came so far; there was indeed no indication that she would offer up something as simple as an identification if it had no direct impact on the present situation. Even Damsy with her laid-back personality knew to when to stop pressing others' buttons.

The trident joined the blaster, long fork almost touching the latter's barrel. Then the dar'manda leaned back to look up at the ceiling. "They didn't believe it," she replied simply at first. "At least not when my father—blood father—offered me Akaa'kalyr* over his house, the house Verd." She sighed again. That seemed like a long time ago. Damsy glanced back to what's-her-face, expecting more outrage that she had seemingly landed the right-hand station for no reason other than precession. But Damsy did have merit, plenty of it. "I was Confederate special forces before that, so I knew my chit. Had climbed that ladder all the way up to Adjunct-Major."



**
Jenn Kryze

Spoiler: mando'a translations

* = warmaster

 

[Jenn Kryze]

No-nonsense as she may be, Jenn was utterly fascinated by the woman before her. Fascinated... and jealous. The ease with which she spoke and acted spoke of confidence, a laid-back approach to matters- a healthy lifestyle that she envied ever since the realization that she was doomed to remain alone in the galaxy as long as she retained her martial outlook on life. Carefully hiding her true feelings, she listened attentively to the dar'manda's words, very much thankful for the presence of her helmet, all too aware of how her traits twisted at the growing envy that festered inside of her.

"A prestigious rank", admitted the stranger rather dryly. "I'm not sure why your people would ignore such a core tenet of our way, but... clearly the issue finds its roots at the core rather than-"
She abruptly paused, suddenly deep in thought. An entire Clan refusing to follow a rule that shaped the very existence of her own... who among them was right? As much as she desired to call them fools, her people were long-gone, and their ways were carried with her continued survival. She had nothing other than her word against theirs.

"That's irrelevant. I'll deal with this when I return the beskar'gam to the Clan, and there will be pointed questions, I can promise you that. Let's get back on track- why did you leave our ways behind? Was it love?"

**
Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

A laugh there.

"Yeah yeah," she agreed. Love. "Of a sort. I came to care for myself too much to stay. The rest of a life of self-love, as apposed to self-loathing, is worth a few trips to haran*." Though, that assessment was very personal. As if to imply that without saying so, Damsy put her hands up at around waistline. "Y'know, Imma keep saying things I don't expect you to buy—actually, I expect you not to—but you asked. This is just me." She beat an open to her chest then extended the hand as a general gesture.

"Dad's dar'jetii**, specifically a Sith Lord. He, uh, wanted me to be a Sith Lord." Offering a tight-lipped smile, Damsy shook her head. "No, I mean, w-a-n-t-e-d. Really, really bad. Not just as living vicariously through your kids either. He made me for it." She paused there to let that sink in, and to see how much more explaining she would have to do. If this was going to go like it had with Mal, well then they both were in for a mini lesson on the dark side of the Force.



**
Jenn Kryze

Spoiler: mando'a translations

* = hell
** = no longer a Jedi, used here to mean Sith
[/spolier]

 

[Jenn Kryze]

"You've rejected our ways, you know that you will never re-join the Manda after your passing... and you did it for you to enjoy a better life."
For such a no-nonsense Mandalorian who had suddenly intruded in her life, she was visibly trying. Trying to understand the choices Damsy Callat had made, trying to put aside her outrage in order to give this woman a true chance to explain herself without drawing judgement or conclusion as soon as the words left her lips... and, perhaps most tellingly, trying (and failing) to hide the bile in her throat, the gnawing envy that threatened to overtake her senses for each word that left this woman's lips. She was everything she dreamed of being- she was free, able to find joy and friendship! Jenn had never known she would be so envious of one so sinful, and yet... here she was.

The last time she'd cried was after the death of her adoptive mother- something that felt like a lifetime ago. But she was so very tired of the constant doubts, the loneliness, the lack of anyone to turn to... all of it had built up, years after years, and she was beginning to crack under the pressure. Biting back tears was not something she had to do- it was not something she was equipped to do, and so she chose to remain silent, desperate to hide what she blindly perceived as weakness.

The Dar'manda's assumption that she wouldn't "get" any of her words only added salt to the wound. She dearly wished that she didn't- but she did, and her eyes stung as she let out a choked exclamation, raising a hand in the woman's direction to stop any attempt to inquire. Slowly, she began to focus on her breathing... which proved a lot more audible than she realized.

There was a welcome distraction as Damsy kept going... and revealed the nature of her lineage.
"... That is wretched."
Her voice was charged with disgust. The plans the man had for his daughter were far more offending to her than his nature as an enemy of their people- because, in spite of herself, she found it so very hard to look at Damsy and think of her as detached from the whole she was a part of. There would be no attempt to win her back on her side, of course- the ability to make decisions for one's self was paramount to her. The only other tihng that ever came close... was the sacrosanct nature of love in the eyes of such a warlike individual.

"Hunting the dar'jetii is my main occupation. Vengeance for Mandalore, a profitable endeavour, a great challenge... and a service to the galaxy."
Of course, she chose not to mention how her latest encounter with one of their kind had her walking away from her foe. She had been bested in battle, spared, and her entire perception of the Sith challenged by Alina Tremiru - something that left reeling, her entire perception of the world now put in jeopardy.

 

[Damsy Callat]

"... That is wretched."

"Hunting the dar'jetii is my main occupation. Vengeance for Mandalore, a profitable endeavour, a great challenge... and a service to the galaxy."

Damsy rose her hands a little higher, just in case this woman meant to hunt her too after tonight. "Woah, lady! I get it, okay? I do. I don't like 'em either, but I'm not one on purpose. I was literally born a Sithspawn; like not just the daughter of a Sith, but his alchemic creation."



**
Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

"You misunderstand me, vod. I bear no judgement for your lineage- only a demagolka would go around murdering people for the so-called sin of being a so-called Sithspawn."*
Her voice was almost warm, the slightest touch of empathy filling the cold and harsh inflexion to her tone she often employed... and, of course, there was the fact that she had instinctively called her sister. Frustrated as she may be with herself over such an act, the last thing she wanted to do was to convey the wrong impression.

"Do you really think I'm some firebrand zealot who'll put a bolt through your head for something completely out of your control?"
She let the words hang in the air... before placing a hand over her heart, the other one open in a vague gesture of peace.
"We are who we chose to be. Your choices have let you to become dar'manda, but they are your choices, and that is what I judge."

And what I envy.

**
Damsy Callat

Spoiler: Mandalorian Translations

vod: sister
demagolka: someone who commits atrocities.

 

[Damsy Callat]

"I call it as I see it," Damsy replied to the question of zeal. Her tone was softer too, now, though it had been relatively softer than the Mandalorian's since virtually the very beginning of this whole encounter. She wasn't judging either, nor was she angry, just making a statement that the woman was more than welcome to prove wrong.

Actually, Damsy was hoping against all hope she might.

"Right." She didn't think true understanding of her own predicament had landed quite how she wanted to yet, so she shifted her weight as she did her explanatory approach. A folded elbow planted itself on the back of her chair. "Dar'manda. Yeah, that's on me, one hundred. But I pose this to you: was it a choice? I mean, of course it was. I couldda stayed. Sure. But, like, really. 'Cause serving an alor that legit magicked me into existence to do just that sounds to me like some especially smelly bantha poodoo."



**
Jenn Kryze