Su'cuy gar. I am Karlii Alor'ade. A woman of many names and faces: Daughter of Mandalore, Former Republic Intelligence, Proto-Hand, Commander-in-Chief of the Milky Way Mandalorians, Council Ambassador for my people and Galaxy, as well as a expatriate resident of the Milky Way.
Oops: I will write our characters getting into some trouble. Night: For the two am text/call
[MSG:] r u still on ns
[MSG:] cuz i could use help
[MSG:] duros sector
Sleep, which usually eluded her had almost come to her when she was disturbed by the chirping of comlink informing her of new messages. Checking her inbox, she simply sighed, threw off the covers and got to her feet, pulling herself together in some nondescript outfit, her weapons all concealed and in reach, some extra goodies in her utility belt. Save for during the war, a message at this time of the morning from someone usually meant there was dead body, and being a former black ops assassin had made her quite informed when it came to corpse disposal.
Run! : I will write some action with our characters involved.
"I don’t understand how you can be so calm at a time like this." Erin looked over a the Mndalorian woman, dressed in a uniform of a Ceberus Operative, looking oddly serene in the chaos as they attempted a hasty exit.
She was silent for most of the time they were together, more absorbed with the ‘pad than anything, even more so than usual. This silence was different than expected from Kar, the air had a thick undercurrent of tension, not unlike facing a caged animal.
Kar despised the snow, being trapped in it was hell. She tried to avoid it as much as possible, keeping the memories at bay…
The crunch of boots would bring back memories of broke bodies, the stench of burned flesh, of ozone, stark in the crisp, cold air. The screams of Jedi and Mandalorian alike as they were wounded or killed in the melee, the nearly similar crunching sound of her father’s body hitting snow in his final fight, the world turning red, and subsequent snap back to reality after killing two Jedi— being bodily thrown over a shoulder kicking and screaming to the ext ship offworld…
She felt the crawling feeling, partially aware she was going catatonic as it all replayed in her head, the cold feeling in her stomach as panic set in— panic at things that had passed. A desire to run, to escape, to rend bodies long since dead…
She hadn’t heard the other woman getting her attention until about the fifth peal of her name.
"Are you alright?"" Mesh’la asked, feeling concerned, but unable to put her finger on the problem.
Kar smiled shakily, lying. “Yeah, just getting antsy.”
"Well," the other woman replied, attempting some cheer in her voice, "They’re saying the storm should blow over by tonight— transports should be able to pick up by the morning."
Our muses have been set up on a blind date, yours has taken this more seriously and mine notices; feels a little under-dressed and tries to make some sort of amends.
"I’m going to wring his scrawny little neck if I ever see him again." She hissed, half audible to the man before her, mentioning the third element to this party who conveniently so was likely hiding under the protection of his superior.
She sighs, looking down, up, then around her, thinking. “Welllllllllll…we could just go back to your place and I just cook for you, or I think some of my stuff’s still there, I could change…?”
It’s the middle of the night and my muse is woken by yours knocking on the door wanting attention
It had been one of the rare nights she could manage more than few fleeting hours of rest, settling in the bed that had been used far less than her couches. She’d finally settled in, dozing slightly as she tried to finish the chapter of her reading. Until Sophia mentioned there was an unidentified person at her door.
With a groan, she rose from the bed and down the stairs, through the living area to the door, side arm ready and punched the panel to open the door. Kar scowled, more out of annoyance than dislike, disheveled, armed with a blaster in nothing but a large men’s shirt— the previous owner unknown,
"This better be life or limb," she finally says, "Or I’ll make it that way."
He grudgingly accepted the ministrations, shedding his jacket as requested. Even so, he slightly flinched at her hands as she placed them upon his shoulders, kneading away tension, tension built upon their work. It was no less stressful behind a desk than it was in the field, each did their part for an assured success.
This act was to busy herself during the downtime, the gesture intimate, caring, a friend seeking out to help the other.
"You don’t have to do this."
“K’uur. I am.”
He continued his work and fell silent for a few moments, allowing her to work, feeling infinitely better as she worked out a few knots. Finally he spoke up again, more musing than complimenting,
"You have surprisingly gentle hands."
Kar said nothing, merely smiling faintly and continued.
Andri felt something pelt her head and bounce to the floor. At her feet lay a stale mealbread cracker, standard dry fair found in places like this. Whipping her head, she founed the redhead preparing a second volley.