Throwing her control around her, Baiko waited until they got to her room to answer. She answered with the rustle of fabric, as she pulled off the over-layer of her kimono and remained in the full length sleeved underlay, a smooth silk.
[member="Gray Raxis"] was the closest to a real Mandalorian Baiko experienced, and she had need of experiencing him. Of discovering what the Mando’ade were about. As she tugged him closer, fingers reaching across the breastplate of his armour, Baiko realized for the first time…
… she would miss Mandalore, when she left.
“I’ve never met a man like you. Most would hold to their pain or gather in the maddening crowd to lash out at the dark in their unseeing eyes. Gray, your… your prosthetic. I did not mean to glean images from it, but… what has happened to you… I’m sorry.” Releasing herself from him, Baiko bent to pick up a sash from the ground and lay it over the back of her chair with her dress. She fluffed the pillows on her bed, and turned down crisply folded sheets, as soft music began to play unbidden from speakers triggered by her proximity. The table was set for two, yet only one ever ate at it.
“Nonsense, I cannot have my guest sleeping on the floor. I will do fine in the chair, as I used to do over Yasha’s bedside. I would doze off in that chair, on the nights where her father didn’t cuddle his daughter in his arms… holding her hand while she slept. So prone to nightmares… I blame genetics and experience. Oh, she slept so haggardly during those days. I would shush and soothe her brow, sing a lullaby from my mother’s people. It quieted her… I don’t think she ever knew how many nights I spent watching over her, alas those days are done. Kaden thinks he’s stealthy when he’s been sneaking away to cuddle her up in his arms. Oh, I’d find them anyway, back to back as they’d been these past seven years. Nobody needs their nanny at this age. My time is passed.” Baiko busied with her small kitchenette, pulling out four steam buns and putting them up to reheat. Her voice softened, wistful and a little sad. What was a mother, without relevance of time? What was a mother without a child to raise? She was a woman with a life of her own to live, a woman with a destiny outside the hearth. Yet, what was Baiko’s destiny now?
“You must be hungry, I have no great feasts of meat and bread, but I do have some food of a more Atrisian leaning. I can cut some irli if you like, they’re ripe and I should use them up. Please, make yourself comfortable. That armour cannot be the most enjoyable garment to wear. I can make more tea if you like.” Busying herself helped with the sore of desertion which fluctuated through the area and was sensible in the Force. She prepared the simple meal and set it on two plates. Fruit and buns filled with meat and vegetables. Setting out two cups and a decanter of wine, Baiko set the meal on the table. “Please, Gray. Be comfortable in my room. It is the least I can do.”
