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The breeze blew through sheer curtains and Ginnie woke up to the sound. Fabric upon itself, tussled in the wind. It was a softer sound than she’d heard yet, even softer then [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"]’s gentle breathing as he slept.
His arm was flopped over her chest, and Ginnie realized she quite liked being cuddled into a pair of warm, muscular arms.
Another sound. Plates moving in the kitchen? Porcelain against granite? Ginnie rose out of bed, nudging to avoid disturbing Rhae. Bringing a woman back from death, through communing with the Manda ought to make a man near as tired as their activities in the refresher.
So it was Ginnie grabbed a robe from the closet and pulled her hair back behind her delicate new ears and padded into the kitchen. Had it been a Mandalorian incursion, there wouldn’t have been noise at all.
It was something she clung to as she rounded the corner and saw a six and a half foot tall raven haired, pale skinned young pregnant woman placing bantha meat back into the refridge.
“Yasha?”
Mand’alor the Infernal dropped the plate. [member="Yasha Mantis"]
“Ginnie?”
She stalled in the kitchen of what used to be her house, the vacant skeleton of the Mantis Family, when it was a family and not a collection of randomly dispersed people, with their youngest tied to a throne.
“Yash, I… I didn’t know where to go.” Ginnie ran her fingers together in front of her, realizing now she’d grabbed Yasha’s deceased mother’s robe and must have looked a sight standing in the Mand'alor's father’s kitchen.
Yasha said nothing, she walked forth and wrapped Ginnie in a deep, warm hug. “Ginnie, you were dead!”
“I was dead.”
“You were dead!?”
“I was.”
"You were dead this morning!" Yasha bellowed, grabbing a broom from the pantry and sweeping up the broken plate.
"Actually, I was resurrected last night."
"... You were dead this morning! How did this happen!?"
"I really shouldnt tell you, Yash." Ginnie bit her lip, hopping up on the counter while Yasha swept beneath her feet.
"Oh you cannot be... Manda, who is it?" Yasha stopped.
"Ummm, not the guy you'd think?" Ginnie grinned, realizing at some point she had to attend to her dental hygiene.
Setting the broom on the wall, Yasha groaned and stuck her hands on her face. ”On a level of Ewok to Palpatine, how bad was he?"
".... demagolka."
Yasha’s gurgle was enough to make Ginnie hop off the counter and place both hands in front of her.
"BUT NOW He's like... a... Thrawn! Or Mand'alor the... the Fett one."
"The Fett one!? Manda to Gin-Gin, are you off your mind!?" Yasha yanked a hand down, and let out a groan of frustration.
"We kind of soul bonded... and then... eheh... bonded last..." Ginnie’s smile turned into a wide grin and a blush. A wistful sigh. "Did you just lose your virginity in my parents' bed?"
"....... the room on th-"
“…………room on the left.. yeah. Wow. Wow! Okay. Your ship's on Concordia. Landed there a few days ago with these really weird Echani droids... please tell me you..."
“Of course we didn't use protection. We were caught in the moment." Ginnie whispered, running her fingers madly through her hair.
"You can no longer make fun of me for getting pregnant on my wedding night." Yasha stuck her finger in Ginnie’s face, grabbing her friend by the shoulder and turning her around to braid her hair.
"......... Sorry Yash."
"Love you too, buddy. Maim you later." Yasha tied it with an elastic from her own wrist. If she hadn’t been through so many nether worldly experiences, could she have believed her friend’s presence here?
"Heh. Maim. Oh, I am not babysitting your spawn, by the way.”
"Sure y'are..." Yasha rubbed her very pregnant belly and smirked. The smirk faltered just a bit around the edges. “Ginnie… I got word you’d been killed by this… Nemonus.”
“Fake news… Isley killed me, Yash’ika. Darth Metus ended my life and I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“Pissed, maybe? Angry? Ready to tear up the worlds he loves? I could call Australis! Maximum Dakka... but then war and more dakka and...”
“He’s my brother… he was my brother. He is and is not my brother?”
“Grammarlicious? Please lay low. I can only protect you if you lay low.”
“You’re going to protect a forcie like me?”
“Shh. I’ve gone a bit soft around the edges. How else could I keep my kid’s future best babysitter? You ah… going to be okay?”
“Maybe… go on. Do your Mand’alor thing. I hear you’re getting pretty okay at it.”
“Eventually I’ll even be good. Gin, please… don’t tell me too much… especially about the sex thing? I really don’t need to know… and might want to get a test, eh? Miss Irresponsible?”
“I’m a dirty forcie, I’d've felt it.”
“Gee! Wow! Right in front of me! In my Dad’s house! Take all the time you need, Gin. And eat up. There's plenty to cook.”
“Bye, Yash.” Ginnie laughed, shaking her head. It paid to save the Mand'alor from the Netherworld when they were kids.
Slowly his arms closed in slumber, the weight that rested against his form missing. Why did he stir? Why did hands willingly reach for something, someone? His existence was a solitary one, and yet he yearned for something missing. Uncertain why he woke his eyes blinked and slowly focused. He was weary in body. Aches and strains in his form. Yet unbidden a small smile fluttered on his lips.
As his eyes focused on the foreign room he remembered. Everything. The mask of Nemesis lay shattered, Rhaegar reborn. His soul, while formerly whole, had lacked an element of virility. But now he was complete despite having a shard of his spirit elsewhere. A battle on Maramere, a pilgrimage into the Nether, a union of more then bodies. His Gin'ika. Raising into a seated position the sheet slid from his torso to pool in his lap. Everything had changed without the careful deliberation of strategic planning. And for once, the man was okay with the random, unforseen events that had upended his life.
Lithely leaping from the bed to land with silent footfall on the floor, he swathed the sheet around his hips as his head turned toward the faint sound of voices. Eyes narrowed. Another unexpected development. He was still not accustomed to the unknown variables that had seemed to permeate his present state with his surrendering to the will of chance. While he believed in neither fate nor destiny, he knew there was something unexplainable at work. Moving from the bedroom he padded through the house as a great predator on the prowl for his prey while protecting what was his, [member="Ginnie Verd"].
But as he made his way down the hall, the rune covered skin stretching over muscles that bunched in anticipation of physical confrontation, the scene before him baffled him somewhat as he heard the last few lines of dialogue between the two women. More then acquaintances, the two women seemed to be friends judging by the playful barbs sent to one another. Friends they may have been yet their appearance was like night and day. [member="Yasha Mantis"] towered above them both, pale of skin, and without doubt with child. Yet the woman exuded an air of relaxed authority and danger, which Rhaegar noticed easily without tapping into the force. Ginnie on the other hand was darker complected, lithe, very very lithe if memory serves correctly , and was more appropriately proportioned when it came to height. And hips... a slight shake of his head cast the distracting glance at his cyar'ika's form before once more observing Yasha.
From the conversation heard, this was the Hell Pup, and recently christened Mand'alor of their people. His eyes narrowed at the two thoughts. Again, Gin'ika's influence of language with their bonding had bled over into his vocabulary. Along with the curious word choice that claimed the mando'ade as his own. Another word that he didn't know, but had a deep understanding of.
Moving forward to stand behind his woman, he wrapped arms around her and pulled her slightly back into his embrace as he carefully watched the woman suffering from advanced stages of pregnancy before him. He didn't challenge her with his gaze, yet neither did he appear submissive. A slight nod of incline to the expectant mother.
"Thank you for your, unexpected hospitality. I am ...."
He paused as he glanced down at Gin'ika. He was at a loss. Was he Nemesis Nemonus, was he Rhaegar Dib? Was he the enemy of Ginnie Verd, was he her lover, was he more? Too much had transpired and he was unsure of what changes the new day had brought to his woman.
“Oh my dead salty mother. Naked. You are officially-unofficially basically naked.” Yasha immediately slapped a hand over her eyes and huffed out an encumbered breath. Seven months into her nine, her lungs surged with all she could muster, what with the baby pressing against them so.
“Officially, I am not seeing this, Gin. Not. Seeing. This. Blind as a Raxis.” Whinnying out a slim whine, Yasha rolled her eyes under her hand. It was the man from the report. Nemesis Nemonus.
The scourge, whose death was worth Ginnie’s in the mind of her family.
“Ba’vodu Silas’ clothes will fit him best… definitely… definitely best.” While Silas was the smaller of the Mantis brothers, his broad shoulders would still make anything he owned fit baggier on [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"] than the man for which they were bought, but it would be a welcome improvement to the sheet.
“Why don’t I go get you some while you snuggle?”
The way he held her, the security of his arms around [member="Ginnie Dib"] reminded Yasha of her husband Kaden. How long had Kaden’s watch over her life gone on now?
This man had the look of a being who went into the Nether itself to save Ginnie Ordo. “You’re welcome. [member="Baiko no Kaho"] insisted we keep the Mantis Household alive and functioning, in case Daddy or Uncle Silas came home. What kind of host would I be if I denied my friend the right to a safe night’s berth and food for your table? Those… tattoos…”
Yasha’s eyes narrowed as she began to walk out of the room toward the bedrooms further off. “… I know what they are.”
She whispered to Nemesis, as she walked past them to get him and Ginnie some clothes. While Yasha was as force dead as the rocks in the Blood Plains, her knowledge of infernal things was not as small as most expected.
Ginnie’s breath caught as [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"]’s arms snaked around her from behind. The woman tensed, balling her fist to strike the usurping form. Rhaegar.
Her fist relaxed and so did Gin’ika, leaning into his chest and snaking an arm up his skin to rest on the back of his neck and shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Thanks Yash… take your time, Mand’alor the Infernally Awkward.” Ginnie smirked reaching up on her tip toes to kiss her man.
“Yeah, yeah, I start hearing funny noises and I’m going out the front door. Send Baiko… dang Echani has it coming… making me walk in on… This is me walking away! Far, far away!“ Yasha’s voice receded and her feet stomped on the stairs. Ginnie chuckled, twisting around in Rhaegar’s grasp to look in his face.
“You’re my Rhaegar. That’s who you are. Rhaegar Dib. The name your soul held onto as tight as it could. The name you fought for and won like a warrior.” Slinging her arms around his neck, Ginnie’s chin tilted, as if she felt the slim confusion roiling through him as a sensation on the back of her neck.
While a second’s flicker caused her to wonder, one stroke of his skin on hers, one look from his face and Ginnie realized their activities the night before were the crescendo, not the climax, to their great acts. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He looked down on his woman, the one who had so ensnared him. In over a century none before had captured his attention, let alone his affection. It was fitting that it was this time, this woman, who had affected him so. Allowing a smile to cross his face his eyes sharpened while leaning down into her embrace. His lips sought and captured hers softly at first, then roughly, before leaning back to his height and separating the lip lock. Eyes smoldered as he looked at and through his Gin'ika.
"I see you cyar'ika. As you see me. What I once wanted is immaterial. What I have now is precious to me. You. What I want is you. All of you. Never doubt this. You are more treasured then breath, more needed then the beat within my chest. The future is always in flux, but what I feel for you shall be eternal."
It became apparent that the thin sheet was not an adequate garment substitute as he looked at the face of the woman he was hesitant to even think of as "loved one". Yet the idea that he would not own her heart filled him with trepidation, for surely she had stolen his. Most assuredly witchcraft. A slight furrow of his brow as he wondered briefly just how inter connected they were. He had felt a seconds indecision on her part, a brief flicker of doubt upon the face of his beloved. It was something he never wished to see again, despite their newness.
Turning his head as he heard [member="Yasha Mantis"] collecting clothes his eyes flickered to the runes intersecting his flesh. The Mand'alor knew what they were and it didn't take a genius to decipher what he was. Where he had been. What he had done. But even as he turned their bodies keeping his Gin'ika between himself and where the other woman would be returning from to keep a modicum of decency for the sake of his woman's friendship, he spoke out, unapologetic yet not flaunting the obvious source of his tattoos.
"It is good you know what they are. I would expect nothing less from the Mand'alor. However, these markings may be a road map of my past, but this woman is my future. We are connected. And I will honor her culture, and her friendships."
He didn't go as far as to say she shouldn't fear him, for she had her own mind. But he wished it known that he did not consider her an enemy, and more then that, would strike off whatever appendage that threatened to offend his Gin'ika. Preferably nothing permanent that would affect his new found nocturnal activities with his cyar'ika.
Yasha left andreturned with a small hamper filled with different items of clothing, belts and shoes. “Hope you don’t mind Panathan leather, Gin, my clothes wouldn’t fit in a dozen eons, but Mama’s will.”
“I have some… brief attachments to the Dark Lord of the Sith. Enough to give you secure passage to his Empire, if that was where you were want to go. If she is your future, then that makes you one of mine. A responsibility and penance of my station, Sithling.” Yasha sighed, setting the laundry hamper on the counter and pulled a frying pan off the shelf, setting it on heat.
Mand’alor the Infernal never got to cook, even though she sometimes enjoyed the act, but nobody would disturb her here, and the woman needed most of all to clear her head. Chopping onions, tubers and raw meat was enough for the Epicanthix.
“Cin Vhetin. Gin can tell you what it means. If you are honest in your desire to make Ginnie your new life, then I am honest in allowing it. Step out of the bounds of a renewed life, and I can no longer protect you… be darjetii no more, or use your forces to protect what is now yours.”
Fire still rumbled in her eyes. While the acts of their night may have submitted weaker women to a subservient role, Gin’ika lost none of her fire. Instead, she expanded it, coiled and fuelled it in this new ideal of protecting what [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"] and she were going to build. Life abundant. Living without fear.
Captured and caught, Ginnie rose up in his embrace, until her feet were off the floor, swaying in his breeze. His strength. His inner flame had the ability to cancel doubt, to destroy and ridicule it utterly.
Completely to ash.
How fitting that the one she chose was one who thundered and roared and survived more than a century’s worth of woe. She felt renewed all over, new of body and fledgeling as a shriek-hawk preparing to plunge over it’s first cliff to the thermals which would carry her forth.
A being of former silence, words vocalized were so new for Ginnie that she could but sit upon the counter and pull him into her, legs parted and robe covering her svelte flesh for modesty’s sake. She could but hold and nuzzle in. To let herself be contained by him, and be set to a path of utter freedom by his protective encumbrance. Hopping down once Yasha returned, Ginnie poked through the collection of garments, choosing for herself a pair of dark leather trousers, and a sleeveless tunic, which tucked into the pants. She spoke [member="Aditya Mantis"]’ name in honoured remembrance that the Epicanthix woman had similar sized feet, and chose a sturdy pair of brown leather boots, which cinched up her shin with clasps. The heel of the boots was welcome, as Ginnie was a mere 5’4” tall.
Despite her friend being in the kitchen, slicing vegetables and preparing a meal, Ginnie tossed off her robe to dress, giving Rhaegar a wink and a grin. Yasha held no disgust of her fellow woman’s body. She had no such luxury where she was raised. She shook her shoulders as she shimmied into the tunic, turning to face away from him as she pulled on the tight leather trousers.
Might as well make him suffer. Might as well make him regret their visitor just a little.
She gasped as Yasha mentioned Cin Vhetin, virgin snow. The act of all one’s past being washed clean.
“Yasha…”
“You and Issie saved my life, Gin. Your father…. I cannot begin to pay the debt of my father killing yours, but I can keep Ordo’s daughter safe. All who come to Mand’alor and declare their allegiance receive cin vhetin. All. Let that ire fall on my head, yet I would rather you both live quietly and avoid a war with the Confederacy over this. I’ll be removed to the Blood Plains yet again if not. He is your riduur, or close to. That makes him Mandalore’s issue. What sort of ruler would I be if I did nothing to defend the lives of my people? Yet, I am also the sort that will not chase across the universe to right your wrongs. Your sins, while not present here, follow you outside my Empire. Consider that well in your ideals of future action.”
Yasha served up a hearty meal of bantha meat, tubers and allium for the pair, sliding out two plates and sighing as deep as she could.
“The way of the Darkside is vast and corrupted. Although I am dead to the Force, I know enough of its’ infamies, Rhaegar. Your marks do you credit to your faith, but ill to many. Yet, if your desire is to remain by Gin’s side, I would no sooner see you end than end Ginnie myself. She’s the first friend I ever had.”
“Aw, it’s just hard to make friends in the Netherworld, Yash’ika. I just got to you first… but thank you. We can disappear. We don’t mean to cause you harm.”
“Just don’t have ad’ike too fast.” Yasha smirked, momentarily holding her belly. “It’s not as much fun as you think. Daddy doesn’t live here anymore. Uncle Silas is… off. Off somewhere. Place is empty. Stay as long as you need.”
A restrained strength powered through [member="Yasha Mantis"]’ words. As with much in her Empire, she knew even this could cost her it all. Yet what was a Mandalorian without the promise of a clean slate, and honest labour?
In the silence of Yasha’s departure, Ginnie slid a plate over to Rhaegar and hazarded a smile. “You… ah…. picked the right warrior to resurrect.”
He silently moved to the hamper of clothes brought by the youthful Mand'alor. Listening to the woman speak of ties to the Sith, his hands stilled in his rummaging. A palpable sense of fury flushed through his body at the words as well as the description "sithling". Mere moments before it passed, his control easily circumventing his emotional reaction. Yet his eyes refused to look to Gin'ika, having a sneaking suspicion she may have picked up on the spike. Giving a nod of thanks he moved to the hall as Yasha prepared a meal.
In the hall he closed his eyes, remembering a line of runes that ran along his left pectoral. A spell woven by the ancients, specifically Taozin. This Sithly played the game that the Sith promoted as an order. Self promotion. That ended in the deaths of half the council of Masters. He had no ties to the Sith, something that they bred into them as a superior attribute. Glorious, undeniable power that could only be wielded by one. He had succeeded better then the order could ever have imagined.
Pulling the pants up he slipped a belt through the loops and padded back to the kitchen, a rough spun, long sleeve shirt pulled over his head hiding his runes. Moving to the island in the middle of the kitchen he lightly leaned against it, yet was greatly distracted by the show Gin'ika was giving him. Swallowing deeply he moved to the refrigerator unit and collected three bottles of water to set two upon the counter and listened once more as the Mand'alor and [member="Ginnie Dib"] discussed the future the two lovers had in Mandalorian space.
Silence as he the conversation between the women flowed, several words echoing out and striking a chord within the man. Yet he held his tongue giving a polite nod as the Young Wolf made her exit. Taking the offered plate from his woman he silently dug into the food, feeling the sustenance refuel his malnourished, energy depleted body. Yet after several minutes he collected a napkin from the counter and wiped his mouth before finally meeting the eyes that burned with fire. A fire that if he got too close, would scorch him to his bones. It was too late, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Cin Vhetin. I heard you. That little intake of breath .... It's a tell you have, I learned that last night. It feels important. But not as important as riduur. That word sounds ... Powerful ..."
A slight curve to his lips as he took another drink. He may not have known the definition, but he felt what it meant.
"A safe haven. A home. Protection. This was not my nefarious plan when I chose to resurrect a beautiful warrior."
He gave her a small smile.
"I do not have a faith in anything but myself. I owe no allegiances to any orders, organizations, or governments. I have nothing save a defunct familial tie with two nephews, Derek and Muad. And you. So what about those "ideals of the future" that Yasha mentioned?"
[member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"] flared with a moment of reproach hot enough to make Ginnie’s fists clench and steam. It burned inside her, threatening the calm she kept with her friend. It passed, and Ginnie focussed on breathing.
The kitchen window fogged. Steam rose, and fell. Easy, Gin’ika. Easy. It struck her that she’d have to watch for that. The ebb and flow of another’s emotions. The clothing Silas had was simple, the fare of a farmer, who hadn’t quite realized he fell on better times. Ginnie glanced at Rhaegar and noted that he looked well in a commoner’s clothes…
.. but something in her wished she could see him once again in a suit. It wasn’t a very Mandalorian sentiment. Seeing Rhae in something tailored and crisp, the gentleman dandy, it broke across her cheeks with a blush. Tucking into her own food, Ginnie continued looking him over.
Yasha’s absence now felt odd. Out of place. The buffer was gone.
There was yet nothing but the food, and the man in front of her. Nothing to distract what happened in the last day.
“Cin Vhetin is a pardon from Mand’alor… The Mandalorian concept of virgin snow. Whoever you were, whatever you did before you came to the Mandalorians is over. Done. You make your mark for what you do from Cin Vhetin and after… how bad of a tell is it? My little intake of breath?” Ginnie leaned over to press her shoulder to Rhae’s, taking another fork-full of food.
When he mentioned the word ‘riduur’, Ginnie dropped it.
“Riduur is… ah… it’s Mando’a for spouse.” Ginnie’s eyes focussed on Rhae’s chest, “I can say with assurance nothing I do follows many plans. Bit of a troublemaker. I'd apologize, but I won't. Nothing wrong with a bit of trouble, pound for pound.”
A moment of self-deprecation was enough to bring Ginnie back to the task at hand… which was… dealing with the joys of resurrection. “No, your nefarious plan was to use me against my brother, eh? Or something of the kind? Face it, you got stricken by me, by my prowess in battle and couldn’t let me go down bleeding in your arms.”
Belonging pushed at her like a force at her gate. She smirked and dipped under Rhae’s arm, cuddling into his chest. “But then the way you resurrected me bound our souls… and this happened… wait. Your nephew… Muad? As in Muad Dib!?”
Ginnie slapped her hand over her mouth and started to laugh. “Muad’s watched over me since I was a girl! Well, we fought side by side a few times, well, he… Rhae, Muad is a friend. He’s going to go crazier when he finds out.”
Leaning up to kiss him, Ginnie brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Nothing is the perfect place. It means you have the luxury to fill it as you will. I think Yasha was giving you the chance to create your future. Or she got the words wrong, her basic is the shebs… what do you want your future to look like, Rhae? I know your heart for vengeance on behalf of Isley is strong… is there nothing else? If my ship is on Concordia, I can order it to us. My beskar’gam was destroyed, I need a new set. You could use some too. How else can I protect your bits and all that goes with it?”
The heat that rose to [member="Ginnie Dib"]'s face was clearly seen, evoking a flush of heat in himself. He found that he liked the look upon her face, and planned on seeing it many times, and for a long time. The permanency of the thought struck a chord within him. He had given to her more then any other, and he found himself acknowledging that he would do so again if the chance arose to replay the past. It was a weakness he had exploited in others many times, but as he reviewed his new outlook he realized there was strength therein, a strength he had lacked the experience before hand to clearly see and appreciate.
"A tell I noticed. But I had a closer look at it several times the night before."
His eyes lit for a moment whilst he remembered specifically what he was speaking of. Continuing to eat he cast his woman a sideways glance as she dropped her fork, then went on to explain the word 'riduur' to him. A twist of his lips as he swallowed.
"You find the word so shocking in conjunction with me that you cannot even hold your own fork? I'm wounded."
The playful tone was indicative of the humor he used, yet the word echoed in his mind. What was a spouse? Merely a description of two people sharing a soul, a bond unbreakable, who were inseparable. Before he had met her, the idea had sounded like fetters that would weigh one down. A breaking of an individual. However, now he could appreciate the title to an arcane tradition. A title that one could carry proudly. Not a defining chain but a descriptive word that revealed the import that one had for another that all could see. The prospect did have it's alluring quality.
As Gin'ika spoke of his nephew, Muad, and her laughter echoed in the kitchen he frowned slightly. The one and only time he had interacted with the younger Dib was .... Strained. Rhaegar had acknowledged the familial tie and had offered a union of vision with his nephew. The situation ended with fire and brimstone with a promise to meet again. Yet he had not tasted death at his nephew's hand, and the opportunity had presented itself. And he had the chance to snuff his blood relative's life from the living world, but had not taken it. At the time he felt perhaps in the future they would find an accord, but the timing for their second reunion never panned out.
"Muad Dib ... He has the curse of madness that runs in our lineage. His was a more immediate flourishing of the affliction. Mine developed over time. Usually our blood line self governs the madness with a finality. Yet I survived the culling, as did he. I would gather he won't be as amicable upon our next meeting. Though I have been proven wrong a few times in my life."
Ginnie's touch, her kiss, seemed to boost his morale upon contact. The feeling of being whole filling him. The witchcraft wielded against him was real. Not necessarily in the obvious meaning of the word, but no less true. She had ensnared him, and he was content to be caught. Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned into his woman.
"You may not know, but vengeance isn't what drives me. An oath is, and the desire to understand what makes a man act. I enjoy studying, and every individual is unique with different driving factors. But I do have a driving factor now, other then being a man of observation."
Leaning his forehead against hers he felt the words swirl about, a saying he was unfamiliar with, but the meaning was starkly obvious. Sentiment he had never though to share.
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. You weaken me and strengthen me. You are my bane and my hope. There is nothing else that drives me but to be complete. And with you, I am. I'm a man who has wore the trappings of many faces, many cultures, many factions. I have done heinous acts, and charitable acts. Yet they were the actions of a man who had no desire. Now, I do. I have desire. It is disturbing and invokes uncertainty. It leads me to a place I've never tasted. Fear. But what I fear isn't having you, what I fear is losing you. I am a man who has done what he wished, yet now I wish to be more. Because of you. Your witchcraft has affected me, and I wish to never be free of your spell."
Clearing his throat of the huskiness that had settled he broke contact to take a drink.
"And yes, you need protection. And not the kind that the Mand'alor spoke of, though that may be prudent. You need armor, and I believe I would accept the gift of your hands, a second time, in the spirit it was offered. I would be honored, though I fear for my wardrobe."
What could two pyromancers do in the face of any threat? In their first foray, Nemesis and Ginnie created a dragon of the inferno. The potential of two infernal beings was one of mutual wavelength and the procuring of an appropriate target. While her experience in Manda was still a resounding chorus in her inner ears, Ginnie had yet to stop and consider what brought them both to this new road.
Yasha’s shocked face entered her mind. ‘You were dead this morning!’
Ginnie gasped in a little breath, another as [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"]’s eyes lit from within, his muscles relaxing at the images in his mind. In the quiet of the kitchen, now Ginnie heard it. She searched his shoulders, the same which held so firm the night before. Power hidden in a lithe form. The curve of his neck, leading to his noble chin. The way it tucked into her in the night. In the shower…
“Shocking. Undoubtedly shocking. This is my shock. My total shock.” Ginnie plucked his fork from his hand and used it to scoop another bite of food from his plate. “A word with that much power is too desirable when placed in conjunction to your person, Rhae. I’m afraid I’m caught.”
Rhaegar’s strain was not lost on his lover, nor was it encased within her without consequence. The Dibs were not a happy family. Could one be so, the way things were? Pulling at her thought of Muad. He was entirely mad. A honourable, yet off-kilter anti-hero, who both cared little and too much… usually dressed in plaid and with some form of new giggle which could shift at a moment’s switch.
“Yep, he’s loopier than a tank’s rotors, Muad… you… your family killed its’ own members?” Ginnie started, feeling the chill of Nemesis’ infamy at the edge of her Rhaegar. “You saved my life, Rhaegar. Muad is a friend. Even insane, I would take him by my side in battle any day. Perhaps your reintroduction should be planned, c’yare. Let me go in first, open you in once he’s finished blowing something up… I know he longs for Mandalore. So did I, before… but the Infernal changed so much, we force sensitives can come back. We can come home, that’ll mean something… that… and this..”
Placing his hand on her cheek, Ginnie nuzzled in and let Rhaegar’s newfound footing find a foundation in her. Ginnie was steady as beskar, as unbendable as the black iron. While there was no assurance around her, no fixed point for her to build upon, she became a fixed point. The tenacity inside the woman was immutable.
The occurring sensation of stability within their two person microcosm struck across her. Here, a whisper said.
Here. Rhaegar and Ginnie both needed a mutual star to orbit around and their communion of soul gave an explosive fusion to the formerly lonesome pair.
“Sounds like you were walking in the fog. Too busy inspecting others to find your own. I know why you have to continue your oath… now you have life without fatalism… I… I had nothing left, when I agreed with Isley’s pleas to come to Ryloth. My adopted father died in the civil war, my mother left, I… tried and failed to make a life. Because of my powers, I had to leave the culture and empire I loved with every fibre inside me. Lingering in space, getting older and thinner… then Isley called me home. He offered me a home, me. His sister. His ruined, deaf sister…”
Nose close to his chest, Ginnie curled her hands across her stomach and shut her eyes. “… home should never be a paper building, tinder dry. It’s a wellspring from which we receive and give energy freely. A bond that carries us through life and the hereafter with the vehemence that together we are mighty and never alone… yaim’la yaimpar darasuum, c’yare. Our eternal comfort and home.”
I love you, he said, leaning his forehead to hers. Ginnie’s hands slid up his chest, anchoring on the muscles of his shoulders. “Jatne cyar’ika. Jatne…”
He broke away and Ginnie leaned up to kiss his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist in an utter refusal to remove herself. Never had one put such meaning into the abandoned, lost Mandalorian. Never had one called her his answer, or his strength, or his fear.
No one would but this man. No one could love her like the man who surged through the afterlife to bring her back and discovered himself in the process. “Let me carry your fear and turn it into armour, love… so I may never be rid of you. Never.”
Swaying in the flow of their tandem declarations, Ginnie eased herself to sit once more on the counter top of the island. “I think Yasha spoke the true word…” Ginnie admitted, hands rubbing on the leather of her borrowed pants.
“I feel naked out of armour… but mine was destroyed… fitting… Rhaegar, I have beskar on my ship, but I’ve been hesitant to use it… will you help me? I think with you by my side, I can.” The beskar of which Ginnie spoke was nothing less than the beskar-clad bones of her father, Ordo, which survived the fire of his cremation. To build beskar’gam forged of her own father’s body…
It was a task Ginnie stumbled upon, even if she knew it was direly necessary. “Oh no, the suits.” Ginnie tried to laugh, but the sensation slipped. A well of water passed over her eyelid and down her cheek.
Ordo was not in Manda… Ginnie could not understand why her father was absent in the flow. “You insult my talents of the forge, if you think I cannot work in the bounds of your suits… Give or take. Maybe fix the lapels… armour vest that lays flat. I’ll protect you Rhaegar. I’ll protect you or die trying.”
A flicker of amisemencrossed his face at her words of being caught. There was a difference though, to being caught and being a prisoner. And in this instance he believed he would accept being caught any day by his woman with the soulful eyes. For he was not just the desirable but the one who desired as well. A slippery slope without secure footing. A dangerous position. If you didn't have trust. And oddly enough, though initially enemies and within just a short time, the two had gone from opponents to something that was tangible.
As she commented on Muad, he had the distinct feeling that his moment of reverie may not have been solely his. The connection between the two approached the unexplainable, however he had no fear of judgement from Ginnie. And Muad may be ,"loopier than a tank’s rotors", as she put it, but there was still something there. Shared madness, shared pain of family trying to end your life. A tightening of his face was his answer to Gin'ika's question. The Dib line strove for balance. Unbalance was to be cut from their ranks. It had been his other nephew's initial duty for searching out both Muad and himself. Another pawn in the struggle for power.
The cold fury burned in his bones. The desire not just to end his enemies, but to destroy them first, echoed in his being. It was something he had grown quite proficient at. And with every success his power and infamy grew. Yet even as these thoughts crossed his mind, Ginnie opened up a part of her that was being held back unknown from him. He felt her acceptance of him, not just in her life, but a part of it. They were both willingly caught in each other's orbit, the gravitational pull bringing them together. A foundation of stone. The cold monster and unbreakable mando'ad. Together they united and became something more then the sum of their past.
"Isley called me home. He offered me a home, me. His sister. His ruined, deaf sister…” He say in silence as she continued speaking, registering what her words reflected. Even as a line of tears escaped and travelled across her cheek, the conflicting emotions bottled within the beskar spirit spilling out with her statements. Pushing the plate away he stood and moved into his woman, her perch upon the counter allowing him to slide between her thighs. Though a thought of the previous night did dance through his mind, it wasn't for physical fulfillment that had him embrace her, his arms encircling the feminine form before him.
"Even when you were in your other body, you were never ruined. Never deaf. What others may have seen as restrictions, I see as strengths because you refused to be cowed by circumstances. You chose to overcome them my love. Your beauty and spirit was never dimmed."
A hand rose to her chin in an attempt to raise her face so his eyes could meet hers. Gently a callused thumb swept the track of tears from her face before leaning in and lightly kissing the trace of her sorrow away.
"You are my home, though the word feels foreign on my lips. And you will never be free of me, nor I of you. You speak of fear and temble at the prospect that awaits you on your ship. You reveal that you need my strength, but that isn't true cyar'ika. You are a wellspring of strength. The mother of dragons. You breathe fire and rush into the unknown. You may say your are weak, but you are unbreakable, unshakable. Your spirit is indomitable. Even in the face of death you rebel against your fate."
He smiled down at the woman, a reflection of sadness he felt from her. Never again would she be forced to sojourn alone into the unknown. He would be there, by her side, a partner in life as they were in her death.
"It was not my intention to wound you with my words. I know you are a woman capable of whatever you set your mind to. And I will be there for you in the darkness, as I was as we traveled the Nether. I have no doubt that you will protect me til death, but I do not wish for that. Protect me in life. Share my life. Do not part from this, from what we have. For I will never leave you, abandon you, not cast you off. We have both felt the sting of betrayal from our blood. Never again, no. We will forge our own home. With one another."
There was, Ginnie discovered, a varied landscape to desire. She’d loved D’ral heartily, yet there had been no desire, no passion to sustain it. He faded and disappeared, lost in the tumult, their promised child in tow. Grief once again pinged at her heart. However young she was, Ginnie remembered the joyful weight of the infant in her arms. D’ral’s memory faded, fabric in the sun bleached and brittle.
With [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"]’s plea and affirmation, it turned to ash and disseminated with Ginnie’s old bones, scattered across Mandalore when Cynthia found what was left of her corpse. Gone. Never to be reassembled.
Dejan pressed into her hip, clumsy infantile hands clasping around her shirt or hair for purchase. Shutting her eyes as Rhae kissed her tears from her cheeks, Ginnie prayed the empty sore away.
This was her future.
She had no business grieving the weight of a borrowed child.
At least her death gave her that kindness. Let it pass, she expressed to herself, let that pain conjoin with the agony of dying and be gone. As the real presence of Rhae’s place in her spine consumed and created their bond, Ginnie knew her inner emotions were Rhae’s to explore if he chose... she should feel no shame in them. No danger in their express.
His arms cradled her, tugging her in as she shifted to allow him within her personal space. Her lips quirked briefly as her mind flickered to their night. She could almost feel the water on her back, the steam created when two being's of Fire bonded in a confined, wet space. Rhaegar's embrace brought more than carnality to their table, it brought a security and comfort Ginnie may have known existed, if she was truthful, never thought was real.
Once again she was stricken by a mute tongue as Rhae praised her for overcoming the adversity of her dead state, of the perpetual casting off of the girl by her parents and loved ones. It wasn't weakness, it was indomitable will which kept her going. Eyes closed as he kissed her tears, Ginnie wove her arms around him and rested in the might of this untempered and villainous thing. She was no fool, Ginnie knew a fraction of what Nemesis Nemonus had done. And now she knew Rhaegar, the sleeping prince awoken by a valiant knight of the realm.
To connect with Rhaegar was to connect with the Manda once more, a piece of the collective dreaming left behind from her experience of death. Death, while painful and agonizing of spirit, was not a cold and drained experience, when one became the many in paradise. His joint exposure to the Manda, secured to her back, gave Ginnie the perspective to leave it, to join with his soul and find the cleansing fires of Manda wrought away the dross of these wicked beings. An unparalleled delight stole her, a home like the heavenly one he pulled her from. A home without limits.
"I sound pretty karking special when you talk about me like that. Never been someone's home... I'll do my best, you at my side." Ginnie found it in her to smirk and rub her eyes, tucking her head onto his shoulder in the embrace. "Never harvested beskar from bone... Don't know how it'll take to being stripped."
The cargo in her ship's hold haunted her. How could she commit to such an act if not for the greatest of desperation?
“You are forgiven.” Ginnie smirked, fiddling with Rhaegar’s borrowed collar. “I believe you.”
One person wanted her life. He lingered in her, body and soul. The essence of his truth bathed her in a new form of light, surging past the betrayal and aching sores of their histories. A resting place more righteous than the Manda. Leaning to put her forehead on Rhaegar’s, Ginnie broke into a gasping grin. She kissed him ferociously, claiming what was hers. Her legs cinched around his waist, ankles locked together to hold her against what would always be hers.
“Yes. Yes, I will share your life. Yes. We will create our perfect place. I will be your home and your armour, as you are mine. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mh...” A single thread pulled at her scalp. She was moving too fast, she was encompassed by a villain, she... was ready to give such promises to this man. Her reviver. Her lover and enticer. Still, the last words of the riduurok, the promise to raise warriors, fell clumsy and unspoken out of her mouth.
He felt the walls crumble as Gin dropped the barriers from her innermost thoughts. An act of complete vulnerability and trust. A reality that humbled Rhaegar deeply. Delving in gently he submersed himself within the flickering memories of the woman, the heartache and pain palpable even to him. Sharing in the reverie he felt , as did she, the clutching at his shirt, the pang of a child not her own that was now gone. An innocence borrowed for a time. It was disconcerting to him as he tried to decipher the emotions rolling from them both as they collided and intermingled. Where did she stop and he begin? He could not answer.
A child in his , no in her arms, the sweet cooing that flared instincts he could not label, the emptiness of loss, something that wasn't inherently hers, yet desired all the same. It was a weight that pulled at her and, via the connection, himself. And though that was gone, like a flame upon a candle, still the remnants of the fragrance accosted their combined senses. Something that should have been hers was gone, and it caused a hurt that echoed within himself.
His own inability to understand the loss combined with the need for something that was never his slowly swirled out, should she wish to sense his own turmoil at her memories. The stimuli was too great to clarify, yet despite it nearly overwhelming him Rhaegar held to his Gin'ika, an anchor in the storm that sought to batter her.
Then thoughts turned to the manda, the all encompassing arms that both welcomed and shared in eternal peace. The peace Ginnie had earned, and one that would be forever denied him. However in that moment of conjoining with her spirit in the Nether he was given a glimpse of something he never would be faxed to have. Serenity, a sense of belonging, acceptance. And as they crossed the Void he still retained a modicum of the feeling that rivaled the exposure of the manda. Gin's spirit communed with his own and salved the wounds that festered there. He was not damned, not yet. He could still obtain a place, the cin vhetin offered by Yasha still reverberating in his mind. The chance to start anew. With his woman.
The echo of sorrow permeated his soul, the shard within her ever sharing. The loss of her buir, a man named Jasper. His bones resided within her ship and the despair seemed to settle for a moment. His mind skimmed her own and found memory of a fire. Bellows pumping. Sparks leaping from hammer rained blows upon steel, the sparks seemingly a heartbeat as life was breathed into the piece being forged. Father and daughter, side by side. It was bittersweet, it was aay'han. Even as the word crossed between them he knew it's meaning, the word sparking an understanding of the language he had seemingly borrowed from Ginnie.
The voracious kiss broke him from the line of thought that was previously experienced. The grip on his body tightening as both arms and legs pulled him into her giving and hungry embrace. A part of him wanted to pull back, to slow the maddening vortex he now found himself in. But the man surrendered to the force he had no power or desire to resist. His hands gripped her hips as he returned the kiss. She parted their lips, her words sweeping through him like a cool summer wind that soothed the fevered flesh. He knew and understood the words and importance that she was saying. As her words drifted to silence he leaned back slightly to look upon her.
This woman who had loved and lossed, who had been broken and reforged, who had experienced the failings of those who had left or betrayed her. She stood upon a precipe, her unfinished vow swaying between them. As he gazed upon her his mind flashed over the words. One when together, one when apart. We will share all. The words were a solidarity of what they shared. The prospect frightened him. And filled him with a hopeful joy. His sins stained him, his skin reflected his choices. His scars were testimony to his life, his monstrous actions had defined him. Yet with her, he found he could be more then just monster, he could be a man. A man who wanted his woman. A man who had hope for their future. A man who wanted what she desired, the very thing he had experienced earlier in her sorrow. Aliit. It could start this very moment with an utterance, the beginning of a life and home in her. Quietly he spoke, his eyes a other wavering from her gaze.
" ... Mhi ba'juri verde. Ner cyar'ika, ner runi, ner riduur."
The peak where she stood swaying in uncertainty at the rapid development that had occurred since their battle on Maramere, the edge where she stared down into the unknown and paused her foot that hovered above the future. She was not alone there. Rhaegar was on the mount staring into the abyss of the future. The madness that ensnared her also had him caught in chains that gave them each pause. Yet he would not be fettered by fear when the greater fear would be to lose this woman of his because of the unknown that gripped them both. And so he shook off the shackles that gave them pause, and leapt. His hand rose from her hip to caress her cheek softly, gently, possessively.
The unspeakable desire for her adopted son laid bare before [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"] and was neither rebuked nor reproached. It was felt deeper, into its’ most intrinsic instinct. Sorrow spared no moment.
She, and thus momentarily he, wanted a baby in their arms... not now. Her mind inspected the deepest pain of all, that of a failed mother, and discovered the reality beyond the temporal suffering.
One day, Ginnie wanted a warrior to raise. One who was theirs, half of each, one who delighted their mother’s eyes and their father’s heart. One day. She would continue the work Jasper Ar’klim invested in a scared, deaf child who had no home. Was it hard then, to picture Isley in the Void? The brother who gave her a home was dead. The man in his skin was the shamble-demon filtered like spoiled stim-caf. How else could he have left her behind? Let her body disintegrate, where the only kindness in her death were the words of a stranger? One who promised much and now, tucked into her embrace, gave more without ceasing.
Her mental stumble was caught up by Rhaegar, and she stood beside him on the precipice. Fear, and chains. Losses of the past, marred with past sins and decisions clung to them like wet clothes. Nemesis' sins were many, vicious and unforgivable by sentient beings.
Yet.
The beauty of the Mando'ade was in the Manda's introspection. The Manda asked not for perfection or an aescetic's monasticism. The Manda asked for naught but the loyalty of shared blood, shared battle, and shared family life. Mand'alor the Infernal understood the gravity and release which occurred from one coming to Manda for peace, and she understood keenly the terrible cost of the uninitiated. Yasha denied a Mandalorian belonging to none who came on desirous, penitent wind.
What was Mandalore but a second beginning in physical synthesis? What were Mandalorians but being's who clung to their warrior spirit and collective familial becoming? There, in an empire reborn, the same potential awaited a few horrifically beautiful words.
We will raise warriors.
His whisper-soft conclusion of the Riduurok bathed Ginnie in joy. Another becoming, another equalization. Even now, Rhaegar too could allow the virgin snow to cover his past, and eradicate it. Oaths still required fulfillment, and Isley required his peace. Methods would change.
Gin'ika's feet left the cliff top. She plunged onward to this second resurrection and new life.
An enemy was defeated in the brush of a husband’s fingers upon his wife’s skin. The Mandalorian way desired no more than this, and no less. He willed for a life shared, a consistent becoming and thorough desire for aliit, for their bond to continue. Ginnie cooed. Another new sound for her collection, nuzzling into his possessive, ginger hand.
Her legs tightened around his waist, arms winding around the back of his neck. She lifted herself into him, an omniconsuming sea on his shores.
What a blessing that Yasha departed, and the house was empty of all but two. What a blessing the synthesis began of a villain’s quarry became the holy and sacred station of two spouses connecting and sharing their most vulnerable selves.
Ginnie caught her breath and rolled to her feet, padding through the house retrieving her clothing and putting it on. She hummed to herself a piece of music she’d never heard but through the slip of her in Rhaegar’s mind. Music.
He knew so much of it.
“Yash said my ship showed up to Concordia. Bits and Sprocket must’ve caught the panic signal and rushed back to Mandalore. If my ship is there, I can rebuild my forge and make us armour. Aditya might’ve had good taste in leather but I feel naked as the day I was born without Beskar’gam. You didn’t happen to take my lightsaber as a trophy, did you love?” Ginnie hopped back onto the bed, landing close enough to lean an arm over Rhaegar’s chest.
“My Tuk’ata, Wembley... he’ll be with the ship. He’s an adolescent, so he only speaks a few words in Basic, but his Sith is fluent. Don’t be alarmed when a twelve foot monster of a hound lunges out of the cargo bay. He’s been my companion since I was ten, and he was a pup. I don’t know what he’ll make of this, so...” Ginnie’s voice drifted off. She kissed Rhaegar’s collarbone and a flush came to her cheeks.
“I don’t sound like a little deaf girl. When I speak, I sound... whole.” What was more, Ginnie had taken on Rhaegar’s accent, as her own experience with speech was limited to the lips she could read.
He lay upon his back once more, eyes staring at the ceiling. The texture of the tiles designed to resemble a wave, the soft curves accented by the ambient light. Waves. Why did his mind turn to the turbulence of the ocean? He knew without giving it much conscious thought. His past was a violent one. And he had left a long trail scattered in his wake. But like the tide upon the sands of time he had the opportunity to watch his past disappear. Cin vhetin.
The word rolled in his mind. A new beginning. A clean slate. It was odd to imagine that Gin'ika's people would offer such a thing. And yet her friend, the Mand'alor had done that very thing.
Shifting slightly on the mattress he felt the harder feel of the bed. Amusement flickered on his face at the broken frame that now allowed the mattress to lay upon the floor of the room. A satisfied smile crossed his face. New emotions were filtering through him. Something akin to happiness.
The tune reached his ears, one he recognized from his childhood. Turning his head he watched as his lover re-entered the room and join him once more upon the mattress. He felt an elation as her arm draped over his bare chest. His eyes crinkled slightly at the smile on her face. She was happy and he was not immune to her charm. That spell again.
"I did not take your lightsaber at the time. But I returned after ... Afterwards and collected the weapon. As for your tuk'ata, I have experience around such. And I'm sure the hound will know the woman he may not recognize by sight. You have the same spirit, aura. Vibrant and fiery."
He momentarily lost his train of thought as her lips brushed his body. Heat flushed , especially as he saw the tint in her cheeks. Stirring from his phone position he rose up on his left arm and leaned over his lover. Tenderly he stroked her brow as he gazed upon her face.
"You were always whole cyar'ika. You just didn't know it. You have never been missing anything, what you see as incomplete merely made your even stronger in other ways. Ever the fighter."
He leaned down and stole a kiss greedily before he deftly hopped from the bed and strode from the room, his nakedness neither shaming him nor embarrassing him. Collecting the clothes he had been given he pulled them on as he returned to the room to lean against the door jamb. A brow arched as he watched his woman.
It was still difficult to believe the events that had transpired. But what he felt inside confirmed the change. One he once would have raged against, now he embraced. Retrieving his cane from it's resting spot against the wall he spun it lightly in his hands.
"To rebuild a forge, for the future. I can think of nothing I would rather do in your company."
Oaths and vows would wait. For once he would do what he had denied himself for so long. Live his life.
What was a Mandalorian if not a warrior within the graces of Manda? The only security in a Mandalorian’s life was the salvation of a good death and the love of family life. The willing came to Mand’alor’s table and received. The unwilling or the vocal decimated remained not among the planets and peoples of the Mando’ade. The smug glint to Rhaegar’s eyes caused Ginnie’s skin to flush as she concealed her body with clothing. They broke Mantis’ bed. [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"] and little Ginnie Ordo broke his bed. Yasha would never let Ginnie live this one down.
Not that she’d want to. For a second foray into the delights of married life, breaking a solid wood bed was a badge of honour topped only by the flutters in her stomach as she felt the output of elation from Rhae. Thought of death and dying expelled from Gin’ika while she cuddled into her new beloved. Let the oaths and tempests which brought them to these borrowed moments die their own deaths today, and perhaps tomorrow. Let them live.
Love was sweet and unbearable. It was a lightness of being which tempered the loneliness out of Gin’ika’s mind and stole all sense of panic or fear. Fear did not exist in the safety of this place and the man within it.
Ginnie Ordo leapt through the crucible with a warrior’s death, and this was her reward. Life abundant. Life without easing. Life laid upon a pristinely decorated table, overflowing with the truth Rhaegar saw: Ginnie had never been a wanton, stricken little thing.
She fought for her bread, her place and her senses. She was then, and was now, whole.
“It was my first mercenary job. I was eleven, dressed in my pink beskar’gam guarding scientists as they searched the radioactive wasteland of Barab I.” Ginnie’s smile widened as she thought of the days, the diligence she pushed forth to protect the scientists, who by rights probably thought were helping her more in return. “I shot off bandits and found my very own barab ingot encased in ore. It called to me, that stone. And to my foot, I think I broke a toe trying to kick it. I moulded the beskar on the handle with my bare hands and a hammer. Took weeks. I remember… heh… hiding it in the knapsack under my bed. Everything I owned was in that bag.”
Laying back on the ruined bed, Ginnie grinned up at Rhaegar, her eyes fluttering closed as he touched her face. So gentle. Her face nuzzled into his touch, “Thank you for rescuing my lightsaber, c’yare. You’re right. Wembley will recognize me… he might try to eat you at first, but he’ll recognize me.”
Back arching off the bed as they kissed, Ginnie mewled and sighed into the affection. A loose grunt shuddered out of her as Rhaegar leapt out of bed. Licking her lips, Ginnie found belief of her luck a hard won battle to win, perhaps tomorrow. She whistled out a low sound, hands on her expanding and contracting stomach. Eyes shut, she rolled over, incapable of giving up the grin on her face.
Especially when her eyes opened and dined on the view. Giddy with the last days, Ginnie flipped off the bed and braided her hair in idle hands, tying it back with the hair tie Yasha gave her.
“If I knew no better I would think there was a content and pleasantly relaxed gentleman in my borrowed door.” She pirouetted and gave Rhaegar an eyebrow raise of her own.
“We shall have to call for my ship, or get to it. My question is one of location. Where shall we rebuild my forge, and our home? Concordia? Aquaris? Dathomir? Myrkr? There is a new Mandalorian settlement on Bandomeer. I feel light as an atom, we have choice. Opportunity. We can have a home, Rhae. A forge and a home.”
A place of belonging. Ginnie’s first home of her own.
"Then perhaps your definition of 'gentleman' may need to be placed under review ner runi. Yet content and relaxed? I believe those are understatements."
Her words stirred a longing within that he did not believe existed. A home. A hearth. A place that wasn't his, but theirs. Not a house, but a home. Comfort, peace, serenity. Because of this woman who gave her love so freely, he had a chance at redemption. One that he craved. The remembrance of longing flickered in his mind, a desire that was manifested in [member="Ginnie Dib"], one that was unexplainably mirrored within him. A family. Those that he would die for, bit more importantly, live for.
Moving from the doorway he crossed the room and caught his woman up in his arms, lifting her in his arms weightlessly. A half hearted spin with her in his arms, Rhaegar smiled up into the face of his soul. She had given him his life back, by keeping his soul. The witchcraft was real. He was bewitched by her. And he would have it no other way. Slowly he lowered her feet to the floor and lightly brushed his hand across her face, memorizing the curves and softness of her countenance. Yet she was not a fragile flower. She was a warrior tempered in the fires of battle, forged by the pressure she had not only endured, but had overcome. Her strength amazed him.
"A home. If we are to build this together, perhaps we must also mend fences of our past. I know that family is more then blood, yet family is still family. I have a reckoning that I must face with my own. Nephews I owe apology to. What of your Ordo Clan? Other Verd you may wish to strengthen bonds to?"
On his mind he remembered a large man, a buir at a forge. A visage he had stolen during a battle a lifetime ago. And it was. This was a new chance at life, a fresh start. One that he would embrace with his riduur tightly, and refuse to relinquish. He captured her chin in his right hand and gazed at her in silence that stretched for moments. He needed no word to express the hopes he had, they were reflected in the adoration and passion that shone from his eyes. Gin was a warrior, a smith, a lover, and even friend. He was an open book in the moment, his emotional surge breaching his defenses.
Reluctantly releasing her he snagged his cane once more and took on the limp as he moved to the doorway. A flicker of a smile danced upon his lips.
"First perhaps we find more fitting clothing. Then, the future awaits us. A destiny that we choose together, always together."
“Mandalorians don’t have gentle men. We have warriors. You dress like a dandy, thus, you’re my gentle-man.” Ginnie grinned and raised up on her elbows to watch the tensions removed from the man float about, gone for the beloved atmosphere of their new becoming. Their constant and glorious life.
Yasha’s momentary caution of unprotected nights and pregnancy flashed across her cheeks as [member="Rhaegar Nemesis Dib"]’s inner sensations consumed her conscious thought. It filtered away as he came to her, lifted her up and spun the petite woman in his arms.
Ginnie squealed in delight, laughing into their borrowed place. Her hands memorized the feel of his skin, the cords of muscle hidden by Silas’ sweater and clothes. Eyes shut as he touched her, Ginnie took his hand and kissed it, then smirked and bit at his knuckle, shaking her head in growling, predatory jest.
“I have sisters left, Maeve and Arla. I don’t know if my mother Rianna would want to see me after… after…” Ginnie turned her chin from Rhaegar, leaning against his chest. “… I stole his body, Rhae. And her son, the baby. D’ral and I stole Buir’s tools and armour when we escaped with Dejan. It wasn’t safe! Raising Monroe’s baby at the ranch. I don’t think Rianna will want to see me again. Me, the orphan who stole her only son, who left me with the baby we… it’s in the past. All past. Kiera and Amaya will want to know what happened. They may join us, although I believe Anastasia, my niece, will side with her father in all things. I wonder if Aedan would listen… Muad will want to know. He is family, to both of us.”
Fiddling with his sweater, Ginnie was stricken by his eyes. Passion eternal, affection and hope shone within what once were cruel and terrible harbingers of violence. While the violence remained, guided by the need for family, Ginnie celebrated within it. She needed not a dandy, but a man of strength and might. A man who would live and claw for the home they built brick by brick.
He was perfect, as their moment and synthesis was perfect. A gift of Manda. They would build a home, they would love each other and they would raise warriors to take on those battles which their parents had less time to handle.
There was no fear, no worry about ‘going too far’. There was only the peace of knowing all security in the universe stemmed from a sacred hymn, and her man’s embrace.
Cupping her backside in the leather trousers she wore, Ginnie checked herself out in the mirror. “I like these trousers. They fit my curves. I won’t be able to build armour until we get to my ship. It’ll take time, I have to process the ore, and build the electronic systems. Might need to purchase some silicar, for the armourweave. Controls temperature... we'd be safer if we used it.”
Heaving up on her tip-toes to check her backside one more time in the mirror, Ginnie twirled and spun out a quick kick to test her range of motion.
“Yes, these’ll do for now. For me… and how are we going to pay for our fitting clothes? Are you made of credits, love? Perhaps you have wealth stashed in your pockets?” Ginnie dug her hands in his pockets, running her fingers along the fabric protecting his skin before hopping out the doorway and into the domed splendour of Sundari.
She stretched and breathed in the desert air, feeling all at once in amazement and comfort at seeing her beloved homeworld from a fledgeling angle.
“How did you get to Mandalore? Do you have a ship? Or did you barter passage like a thief?” Trotting through the city streets, Ginnie hopped up on a low wall and tottered on the top of it, trying out her new feet before jumping back down.
“There’s an Atrisian Quarter east of here. They might have some proper arueti tailors. A two buttoned jacket, and three buttoned vest, c'yare? I seem to have that idea in my mind... I've never seen a suit up close before. Not of that flimsy aruetise fabric.”
