Private Revelations

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Jhira Mereel
LOCATION: Kaddak, shortly after the Enclave Takeover

He clutched a bottle of Chandrilian Whiskey in his hand, his blue eyes inspecting the bottle. He sat atop Gaddamoku's club on the roof, his legs dangling over the edge as he glanced up momentarily. The Enclave had all but entirely pacified the criminal resistance on this planet, with a handful of his kin escorting prisoners through the streets as he sat in repose, his helmet sitting idly at his side. 'It is done' he thought to himself. Gaddamoku had been a part of Faison's life for several years, in truth. At first, it was during his career as an agent in Cor-Sec, but he had known the crime lord far longer as a 'colleague'.

'Colleague'.

That was a nice word for their relationship. Did colleagues often blackmail their partners into doing things that would haunt them thereafter? Did colleagues laugh when stripping others of their dignity, or their honor? A part of him felt like he was being a bit melodramatic. Gaddamoku rarely was ever so overt as to ask Faison to blatantly do something criminal or otherwise. It was always subtle; always in a way that granted him some level of plausible deniability. 'It'd be fortuitous if that guy was taught a lesson... or perhaps his family.'

'It would be a shame if people knew who you really were, Faison.'

Although his words were often false, and purposely designed to inflame passions, they still struck Faison all the same. But that was in the past. Even though Gaddamoku had only been dead for nearly an hour, and the information he held over Faison's head was safely in his pocket, it was in the past. It had to be. If he couldn't put that part of his life behind him, then what was the point of living? As the thought touched his mind, the liquid gold in his hand became all the more alluring.

'No.'

All of a sudden, the bottle was flung from his hand, arcing several dozen feet until it erupted in shards of glass on the pavement beneath him. Hard drinks weren't the answer to everything, contrary to what many of his kin were quick to believed. 'Kin?' It felt strange to even think he had kin anymore. He wore the armor, he was raised in the life. Heck, he was drawing ever deeper into the Enclave by virtue of his knack to always be near where they were. But were they really his kin? The only kin he really had left was his mother back on Corellia, and his sister who was gods knew where. Sure, he enjoyed the company of a few different men and women within the Enclave, but that didn't mean he belonged. He honestly didn't know where he belonged anymore.

It was that thought that made him sober enough to throw the bottle across the way, and sober enough to regret it just as it left his hand.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

LOCATION: Kaddak, Roof of Gaddamoku's Club
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar'gam | Weapon load out | The Echoy'la Sun
Tag: [ Faison Kelborn ]

The wind whistled through the buildings, a faint chiming ringing from the vast crystal structure. The planet was more bearable at night, the lurid pinks and blinding oranges of the crystal muted to purples and grays. Perched upon the roof of the nightclub sat a lone Mandalorian warrior. Whatever haunted him seemed to weigh heavily upon him, judging by how he cradled his whiskey bottle.

With a sudden, violent gesture the bottle was violently discarded, exploding upon the street below. Jhira radioed an all clear to those still dealing with prisoners or returning evacuees, still studying the stranger who had so reluctantly joined her Hunt.

Or, more precisely, decided to share his hunt with her.

Who he was and why he was here was less troublesome to her than the misery in hm. Where was the joy? The triumph of revenge or a hard task well done? Why was he drinking alone, when he'd had a squad to celebrate with? Recovering from her lean upon the spire's wall, she finally crossed to sit beside the troubled man. Dangling her armored feet over the edge of the roof, she watched the movement below. Leaning far enough over the edge to advertise her complete confidence in high places, she waved to a few friends below.

Her armor was still battered from the day's battle, though she'd rinsed the worst filth from her gear and had her wounds seen too. The preternatural grace from earlier in the day was inhibited by the bulky bandages and lingering pain, yet the face revealed with she pulled off her helmet was peaceful. There had been good work done today, and she was content with it. Gesturing to the shattered bottle down below, she offered a gentle. "Why do I have the feeling it's not really the bottle you wanted to toss off the roof?" Jhira pulled a small, vacuum-sealed flask from one of her many pockets, and offered it to him. "Chai Tea; I've Tihaar with me as well, but I'd hate to see it meet the same fate as the whiskey."

 

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Jhira Mereel

For several moments, it appeared as though Faison was somewhere else entirely based on his gaze - some far off world deep in his past. When one has lived a life like the one he had, eventually all the memories seemed to chain together like some bad loop on a rerun holo channel. It was pathetic really, a grown man such as he wallowing in self pity. He loathed himself for it, but despite himself, never failed to indulge in copious amounts of said pity regularly. Honestly, that was probably why he often sought solace at the bottom of a bottle. It dulled his emotions which always led his mind to wander on what he'd done in his life, both good and ill (and who are we kidding, most of it was ill). It was only the arrival of one of his newfound companions that shook him out of his stupor. T'was not born from any alcohol or other substance, but rather a state of a man who had been broken and reforged several times over. Her gentle voice was as soft and soothing as a silk bandage upon burned skin. Her words brought an involuntary and truly genuine chuckle from his lips.

His eyes met hers ever briefly, a faint smile on his lips as she offered him a flask of tea. He accepted the flask and regarded it for a moment. At the mention of the Tihaar, he replied casually: "That's probably a safe bet. Thanks." He met her gaze again, his deep blue eyes look into her soft, dark brown ones. He didn't linger for long though, instead taking a stout pull on the flask before returning it back to her. "Let's just say I... don't always know when to stop when I start. So I prefer not to even begin these days..." He gave her a nod before peering back over at the streets of the city. It had been a while since he had spoken with a Mandalorian woman, or any woman really, for longer than a few moments. To say that he felt a bit out of place in doing so would have been an understatement. But rather than allowing said awkwardness to prevail for too long, he spoke again: "You and your companions fought well. I... I suppose i'm fortunate we stumbled across each other."

He knew her questions were coming soon, he just didn't know exactly when. 'Why was he here?" "What was Gaddamoku's importance to him?" He couldn't fault her for asking, and if she did; he wasn't going to refuse. He owed her and her companions that much at least. Normally he preferred to be a little less sober for such a discussion, but what was the point of throwing that whiskey off of the roof of a building only to turn and grab another? No, as much as he was uncomfortable now, he would get through it. Somehow.