Ask Private Lessons

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

A ghost wandered the back alleys of a certain city on a certain planet, blood seeping through durasteel armor and mingling with the pouring rain.

The blood wasn't spectral in any way, leaving behind a trail of red against the ground until the rain washed it away. The ghost leaned against the wall to catch their breath, helmeted head bowed as their body shivered from the cold and blood loss. Slung on the ghost's back was a set of Mandalorian armor comprised of beskar chestplate and helmet, while the rest of the medium armor was of durasteel make.

Pulling away from the grimy wall, the ghost gulped in a deep, raspy breath before resuming their trek. Their free hand blindly reached for a commlink tucked into their bandolier, but the device slipped past trembling fingers. The ghost grunted in annoyance and decided that the picking up the commlink wasn't worth their time any longer. Instead they plowed on, gait steadily growing unsteady as blood continued to pour from their injured side.

Perhaps the ghost ought to stop for a few moments to stitch up the stab wound. The ghost, however, knew that their pursuers could close in on them at any given moment, and stopping now would only prove to be troublesome.

Gritting their teeth and determination gleaming in their honey brown eyes behind the transparisteel of a T-visor, the ghost put one booted foot forward then another. And another. And another.

They only had one destination in mind. One place they knew they would be safe.

One person in this entire planet who was allowed to see their face.

And so the ghost walked on, the rain hammering mercilessly against their armor.

—·—
​

Reiel Mal Crowholde was a reckless idiot.

When she'd been given the order to pursue a chaku'pel'gam – skin stealer – by the Alor she was quick to follow the command, even more so when the thief's location was revealed. It was a blessing that the skin stealer had been holed up in Tinnel IV, and it was one less problem for the small Mandalorian. Even if the stolen armor wasn't from a Crowholde it was still her duty to reclaim it and to bring the armor back where it belonged.

Mando duties, as she'd called it.

She recalled a time when she'd been brought into the same mission back in Ord Radama once upon a time. She wondered how Gett'se was doing these days, and hoped that her vod was safe. Maybe the Viszla warrior was spending time somewhere on a jungle moon, gazing up at the stars?

Reiel stood bleeding on Carrick's kitchen, vision turning fuzzy as she dropped the stolen armor on the floor. Water and blood steadily grew into a small puddle where she stood, memories of how she snuck up behind the guards she trained so she could make it inside the Senator's residence already fleeing from her grasp.

Maybe she should've asked for help before she decided to follow the skin stealer's trail. Maybe she should've planned more carefully before storming the building the thief was holed up in. But Reiel Mal Crowholde could be a reckless idiot when treated to the sight of the Iron Skin of one of her vode getting turned into scrap.

Stealing Mandalorian armor to use as protectiom was one thing. But trying to scrap the whole thing?

The sheer, karking disrespect–

Reiel leaned against the counter as black spots danced on the edges of her vision, one gloved hand shakily pressing against her bleeding side. Kad.

Here's hoping that no security personnel walked in on her bleeding in the Senator's kitchen floor.

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

Reiel had asked for some time away from her contracted duties in pursuit of what she had called “Mando Duties” in the same kind of way that some women uttered the dreaded term “feminine issues” when they wanted their male supervisors to stop asking them questions about their time off. Carrick had responded with a smile and a fond wish of good luck – he had pencilled it in as a religious holiday for his chief of security.

She would probably find some amusement in knowing she got holiday pay for doing her Mando Duties since they were not officially classed as a religious holiday.

It hadn’t stopped him from being concerned, however.

As much as his mask as the unflinching politician was being put under the test by the locals before they sent him off-world to represent their opinions in the Galactic Senate, he wasn’t the mask he wore. At least, he wasn’t just yet. No, underneath the veneer of calm, he had been concerned for Reiel and he had done his best not to let it show for her sake.

She probably would have worried more when she was leaving if he had been stood there with handkerchief in hand like some kind of wailing widow. Of course none of that mattered now since he had just walked in on her in the kitchen of his apartment. Turning the lights on was more for her benefit than his since his senses in the dark were so good with the Force.

It… it didn’t help him to be able to see the crimson that accompanied the pain he had sensed through the Force. Instead of pushing him into action, it caused him to freeze up for a few seconds as he just stared at her, his eyes wide.

Reiel was bleeding all over his kitchen floor.

Focus… focus on the most important part of the situation. That was what he had been trained to do when he was still a Jedi and under his uncle’s instruction when becoming a politician.

Reiel was bleeding.

Surging forward from his momentary paralysis, Carrick caught the small woman as she slumped against his kitchen counter. Sweeping the random appliances and clutter from the kitchen island with a thought using the Force, he bodily lifted Reiel off of her feet and laid her down on the kitchen island.

It let her lay down without her needing to be on the ground… it was better than her being on the ground or stood up. Reaching up, Carrick removed her helmet with fast-moving fingers, setting the helmet off to one side without the usual care as he cupped her cheek gently.

“Reiel… Reiel are you awake?” he asked quickly, “Reiel I need to know where you were hit. Where? How many times? By what?”

She was bleeding through the joints in her armor but that didn’t help much – without stripping her entirely of her armor it wouldn’t make a difference. He stood a better chance of helping her if he could get to the worst affected areas immediately and he needed her awake for that.

That her laying there, bloody and silent, made her look far too close to death was another factor he could admit.

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

Everything hurt, and it was a miracle that she had managed to remain upright even as the light flickered on and revealed Carrick who had just walked in on the kitchen. He must have been alerted of her presence through the Force and went away from whatever he might be doing to check who it was that barged in on his apartment.

Or maybe he already knew that it was her – of course he did – and wondered why she didn't simply announce herself in like she usually did.

Reiel bit back a joke about dirtying his kitchen floor with a puddle of blood and rainwater for his benefit. She was used to seeing Carrick calm and focused, in control of the situation. The small Mandalorian felt bad – guilty, even – upon seeing him freeze at the sight of her, no matter how momentarily. Maybe she should have just looked for a private place to crash and tend to her injuries, but also knew that she couldn't do that. Not in the state she was in. And Carrick was the only one she trusted in this whole planet, the only one she would ever allow to see her face. She didn't exactly have a choice, and yet it wasn't much of an excuse to make up for the look on his face as he gazed at her.

Her knees gave under her, unable to carry the combined weight of her and her armor any longer. Carrick caught her before she hit the floor, however, and she was a tad too late to bite back the gasp of pain that escaped her as she was bodily lifted off the floor and laid on the kitchen counter. The surge of pain that bloomed throughout her torso was what prevented her from curling in on herself, her breath coming out in ragged pants at the feeling of warm blood seeping past her flightsuit and armor.

Her eyes scrunched shut, and when she opened them again she caught sight of Carrick looming over her, the absence of her helmet making her properly see the sudden paleness of his face.


She relished in the warmth of his hand against her cheek, her mind almost drifting off to blessed unconsciousness. Only the urgency in her beloved sorcerer's voice was what kept her determined to stay awake.

“L-Left side, three inches below the r-ribs,“ she managed to rasp out, her breathing growing heavier. “Once– no, twice. Knife g-got stuck in the space between armor... had to snap the blade... bastard can't... use... again... still inside the armor... must have been slicing me open...“

It wasn't slicing her open, thankfully. Just stuck and in danger of burying itself deeper in her abdomen. She was already clutching and taking off her chestplate while she relayed the information, her own concern about the blade digging in her abdomen already trying to override the pain and fatigue she felt. The reason why she was so roughed up in the first place was also of great concern.

Front half of her cuirass finally off, Reiel would attempt to get up in search of the stolen Mandalorian armor that lay on the kitchen floor.


“Do I have i-it here? The– The armor? I didn't leave it, d-did I?“


Bringing it back home where it belonged was currently more important to her than her own life at the moment, and she wouldn't hesitate to comb the city and beyond in search for it – her injuries be damned.

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

The armour?

She was bleeding, badly, with the blade of her attacker still embedded within her body and all she seemed to care about was the damned armor? Carrick knew well enough that he wasn’t a very emotionally expressive man. It was something he had cultivated purposefully as a Jedi and continued to do as a politician for its practical benefits.

But he could feel the anger creeping into himself even as his hands were moving, even as he was opening her armor to let her properly breathe for the first time since the injury. Using his hands, he pulled her damaged armor off of her even as he used the Force to keep the pressure on the wound to keep it from suddenly gushing with the lack of pressure from the armor itself.

Tossing her armor plating aside, Carrick pulled the remains of the enemy’s blade out in one quick motion before pressing his right hand against the stab wounds. One someone as small as Reiel, his hand was able to cover both close-together stab wounds without issue. The Force lurched at his instruction as he tried to channel healing energies into the wounds.

It was the anger making it difficult and he needed to let it out.

“Bu’nas’a beskar’gam, bal bu’nas’a gar giaragr, dala!” he hissed out in Mando’a at the woman, his woman, bleeding all over his kitchen counters, “Reiel… was it worth it?”

He wasn't getting anywhere with the Force, the anger and frustration he could feel bubbling inside of him making the Light side of the Force hard for him to grasp, let alone form it properly to heal her. Instead he used his free hand to rummage around in one of the drawers for the medical kit that was kept there. Pulling out a set of gauze, he pressed them against the wounds as he fumbled around for the bacta injector that came with the kit.

"How is a suit of armor made for someone you've never even met, worth this? You could have died over... over... over scrap metal!"

He knew what it meant to her people, really he did. But there was just something about her literally risking her life for it that just made him want to shake her by the shoulders.

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

Reiel made a half-hearted noise of protest as her chestplate was carelessly tossed aside. She would've let out a verbal complaint had she not caught the hardness in his gaze and the tense set to his shoulders. It seemed that on top of his concern towards her, her sorcerer also felt angry. Given that she was currently lacking concern for her own well-being in favor of someone else's armor, there was no refuting that Carrick had every right to be very, very cross towards her.

She didn't bother muffling the pained gasp that escaped her when Carrick pulled the blade out and subsequently pressed a hand to her wounds to stop the bleeding. She wanted to make a joke about how big his hands were but thought better of it, accepting his anger and his words with as much grace as she could in her injured state. Reiel would have flushed at having him rebuke her in Mando'a but the blood loss only served to turn her skin pale. Exhaustion was beginning to get the better of her but she fought it off for his sake, not wanting to black out so as not to worry her dear sorcerer further.

But damn, it was hard to stay awake when she knew she was somewhere safe. Protected. Looked after.

One gloved hand – still wet from a mix of her own blood and rainwater – would find Carrick's, the one pressed against her wounds. Her thumb brushed gently against his knuckles, a soft "Not scrap metal" slipping past her pale lips without an ounce of heat in them. If he was someone else she would have been harsh, indignant, but Reiel was biased understood why he would call the armor that despite knowing her peoples' culture.

This was the man who studied her language behind her back, the man who respected her culture and their differences. How could she get mad at Carrick when all he ever felt, despite anger, was concern for her?

"'M sorry," she whispered, eyelids fluttering shut and her hand slipping from his. "I should have... explained... more..." Reiel fought to keep her eyes open but they were already blurring from exhaustion, pain, and blood loss. "Sorry for... making you... worry, cyarir. Guess I'll... have to... elaborate further when I... wake up..."

Mustering a soft, grateful smile for her sorcerer, Reiel nodded off but not before muttering something else.

"...love you, Carrick. Please be here... when I wake... up."

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

Gods... Gods and Force be damned that this woman was the one he'd grow attached to. To be so stubbornly connected to a hunk of metal worn by someone she had never even met. As far as Reiel knew, the person who had last worn this armor could have been an Imperial who had taken it from the corpse of a Mando they had shot in the back while they were sleeping. Hell, it might have been made by an Imperial in one of their workshops during the occupation of Mandalore for all she knew and yet she was treating it like it was some religious icon.

As though the stupid set of incomplete armor was worth her nearly dying for, all because of what it was made out of. Because of the shape the metal had been beaten into either by skilled hands or a cold, heartless, machine that didn't give a damn about her people or her culture. A culture that she was adopted into even, not even her's by blood or birth!

That last part... was unfair and he knew it.

Carrick took a deep breath and used his left hand to push his hair out of his face, not noticing that he streaked some of her blood along his forehead to do it. He was just so tired all of a sudden and he couldn't bring himself to really react.

"No, no you're not sorry. Because if this exact same scenario came up again?" he shook his head, "You'd do it again."

Of course she would - more pride than self-preservation instincts in Reiel Mal Crowholde after all. He couldn't bring himself to smile but he did rest the back of his left hand against her forehead to try and ease her worries.

"I'll be here."

Of course he would be.

**Several Hours Later**​

Several bacta injections later, some anti-inflammatory drugs he'd found in his medical kit as well, and Reiel was looking a lot better. The cuts in her side were still there but they were much shallower after the bacta injections. He'd bandaged them up as much as he could before moving the Mandalorian into his spare bedroom, letting her rest in the single bed.

While she rested there he waited and watched over her, keen to make sure she was alright.

He had too keep busy though so... he scrubbed and cleaned the armor she had fought so desperately for while he waited for her to wake it. If he had been waiting for it to give him a sudden appreciation for the armor he would have been disappointed. The metal was rather interesting for it's properties if nothing else.

But still nothing but beaten metal... just happened to be cleaner now, even if there was still dried blood on his hands.

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

—·—​

No, you're not sorry.

You're lucky he didn't turn you away, stupid, prideful little thing.

You'd do it again.

He knew her all too well. And for that he would leave her.

I'll be here.

The first thing she noticed when she finally regained consciousness was the soft bed beneath her, and the blanket atop her. The familiar, comforting weight of her armor was absent, and it took every ounce of Reiel's self-control to stop herself from panicking, to remind herself that she was someplace safe.

That's right, Reiel, she told herself, taking one deep breath after another. Breathe. Remember where you are. Carrick's apartment. Remember? Good.

She closed her eyes again, basking in the silence and the warmth around her. Adjusting her position on the bed, the small Mandalorian winced a little as her wounds throbbed with dull pain, reminding her how she acquired them and who had tended to them. Her gaze met the ceiling when she reopened her eyes before finally settling on the man occupying the seat beside the bed.

The first thing she noticed wasn't the armor Carrick was cleaning, but the dried blood on his hands.

For once all thoughts with regards to the beskar she had recovered fled her, replaced with nothing but her sorcerer and how she had upset him. Terribly so. Anxiety and guilt mingled in her voice when she finally found the strength to speak.

She had asked him to stay before she lost consciousness, and he had been kind enough to keep his word. He shouldn't have, not when he knew that she would risk her life again to reclaim what rightfully belonged to her people. He shouldn't have, because one day she would end up worrying him again to the point of anger, and maybe that could finally push him to leave her, to stop wanting anything from her–

Her voice came out wobbly against her will.

"Carrick."

Maker, she really was a selfish woman.

Reiel moved to sit up, fighting against the pain flaring in protest at the movement. She didn't wait for him to help her or to put the armor down. The small Mandalorian would move to the edge of the bed until Carrick was within her reach, small hands grasping the piece of armor he was cleaning and taking it from him. Reiel would then place the piece on the bed in favor of taking her sorcerer's hands in hers, gaze locked on the dried blood on his hands.

Her blood.

He'd tended to her injuries, placed her on a bed where she could be comfortable, and watched over her while she slept on.

No, Reiel, don't cry, don't cry, don't–

"I'm sorry," she whispered, vision blurring with unshed tears. Reiel didn't bother hiding her face. She was upset because she made him worry, made him angry. They were not misplaced. And he was right – if this kind of scenario came up she would do it again. If that time would come, however, she promised that she would be more prepared.

Mind over heart, as Buir always reminded her.

"I really am." She squeezed his hands once, twice, then thrice to convey what she had told him before she passed out. "This... thing will happen again, because of my duties as a Mandalorian. But I won't let it end like this. Not anymore."

And she meant it.

Reiel met Carrick's gaze, smiling in assurance despite her tears.

"I made you worry for me. Made you angry. Will you..." The small Mandalorian looked down, crimson dusting her cheeks. "Will you forgive me? I meam, not immediately, if you don't feel like it! I understand, really! It's just– is there anything I can do to, um, earn your forgiveness?"

Whatever he would want, it was the least she could do to make him feel better. As much as Carrick looked cute when he was angry, it was still an emotion she never wanted for him to dwell on.

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

She was awake.

He knew it as soon as she did because of how her body naturally reacted, how the Force seemed to swell slightly at her return to the waking world. It slowed his work for a second as his hands paused in their motions before he forced them to start up again. His actions were jerkier than before, lacking their previous fluidity as he used a little bit more force than before. He knew he was letting his emotions bleed into his actions, the physical actions, in an effort to work through them until they were gone.

Or, if not gone, then more manageable.

Again, his actions ground to a halt as she spoke his name. This time he didn't force his hands into motion again, instead turning to look at her with just his head. His body remained slightly turned away from her, his entire body language clearly and precisely turning him away from her, closing himself off slightly. She moved but Carrick did not, head still turned to her and body still turned away.

Closed off.

Distant.

He didn't say anything, though his lips did tug down into a severe frown as she twisted and moved herself to the edge of the bed. That she was putting such undue stress on her injuries was not pleasing to him, was nothing but concerning despite how he was trying to shy away from her. His instinctive reaction was still there plainly for all the see and he wasn't able to do anything about it.

She looked like she was about to cry, he realized, and his frown softened ever so slightly but it didn't become a more sympathetic expression. Instead it simply became less disapproving. She took the armor from his hands and he let her - he hadn't held onto the armor out of any sentiment. He had held onto it to give his hands something to do while he was waiting for her to wake.

Carrick... let her speak.

She needed to say these things and she needed him to hear them so he did her the courtesy of listening as intently as he could.
As she wound down from her rambling speech about how she was sorry, but also entirely unwilling to actually change what had made him upset in the first place, Carrick watched her in continued silence. At last, when she didn't make any move to speak again, he let out a small breath before speaking.

"I accept your apology - that you're sorry that you have caused me distress." he acknowledged, his voice slightly clipped before it hardened ever so slightly, "But if you are apologizing for what you actually have done? In some misguided attempt to appease me? Save your breath."

He reached up, running his left hand through his hair as he let out a longer breath and looked up at the ceiling. Blood transferred from his hand to his hair without much issue, staining his hair as well.

"Why does it have to be you, Reiel?" he asked, genuinely now trying to understand, "Why do you need to drop everything, including your common sense and practicality, to go rushing off after a lone thief? Corellian Hells, Reiel! We have a PLANET!"

The emotions poured out of him and he threw his other hand out in an expansive movement to encompass the whole planet.

"A planet's worth of resources to get what you want, what your people demand you protect... but no. You went alone and if you didn't know me on this planet, you'd have bled out in an alley somewhere and nobody would have even known. So why? Why does it have to be you, devoid of any resources or sense?"

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

She had no idea where she was getting the strength to keep smiling despite the very obvious fact that he was distancing himself from her. He might be staring back at her, but his body language simply screamed otherwise. Reiel couldn’t fault him for it; wouldn’t fault him for it. The added displeasure from the way the corners of his lips tugged down when she attempted to move close to him only served to make her feel worse.

Reiel was an awful human being, and she was well aware of the fact more than anyone else. The fact that she was apologetic for hurting him and not for upholding her duties – and that she would do it again – was enough proof to showcase her pride for who she was and the people she belonged to.

It still stung, however. To see and feel the worry, anger, and displeasure from the one person who she thought would understand why she had to do what she did. Why she had to go alone. As prideful as she was for her own culture, Reiel was also a stubborn, stupid little thing who assumed that Carrick would understand without her explaining why in the first place. Why did she have to go alone? Why didn’t she ask for his help, use the resources available to her? Because he was right. And as much as Reiel wanted to argue, to find non-existent holes in his logic, she knew all too well that there was no winning this argument against him.

She might not have been the smartest of all the bucketheads in the whole of creation, but even someone as dumb as her knew when not to fight when logic and reason were all rounded up against her.

The small Mandalorian visibly flinched when Carrick’s voice rose, one of her hands immediately clasping the other as it curled into a fist. She averted her gaze, her smile long gone, as she anxiously worried her lip between her teeth. She never expected to see him lose control of his own emotions, and she mentally berated herself for even thinking about being surprised. Who wouldn’t, when the person you care for (he did, he wouldn’t be this mad if he didn’t) showed up in your house and was bleeding all over your kitchen floor? Who wouldn’t, when all said person cared about was some item that nearly cost them their life taking back?

The more Carrick spoke, the less Reiel found any will to fight back to defend herself. There was nothing to use, except her need to prove to the Alor, to her grandfather, that she was still the same Reiel who supported the clan by her own means without ever relying on an aruetii – hell's her aruetii's help. Because the Alor was beginning to doubt her as her visits to the covert – then to the Citadel – dwindled, as her duties seemed to lean away from her identity as a Mandalorian. But they were the main reason why she was here, why she accepted Carrick’s offer of employment. Sure, it made her closer to the man she had fallen in love with, but the Alor was beginning to doubt about her priorities not being aligned to their people any longer.

She might not have been the sharpest tool in the kit, but why didn’t she ask for her sorcerer’s help, even just a tiny bit?

Reiel prided herself on knowing herself more than other people ever would, for kriff’s sake. So why, why did she cave to that pressure that could’ve been non-existent? Why did her answer to Carrick’s question end up about proving herself?

We have a planet!

We. Not I. It made her heart skip a beat, but she was too caught up in her own disappointment to even acknowledge it. Srucayr had already explained to her who was rightful enough to call one of their people dar’manda, but she had been too afraid to be seen as such by her own grandfather.

Where the kriff was all this pressure suddenly coming from? And why did she let them affect her? Why did ba’buir, of all their clanmates, doubt her priorities, her loyalty?

Growing mad at herself for all reasons, Reiel slowly moved to lie back down on the bed, her hands flying to cover her face as she struggled to keep the tears at bay, feeling even more awful about being the one who needed to be comforted when she should be doing it for Carrick herself. She couldn’t end the night with him still feeling mad and worried towards her. He was being honest with his feelings, and the least she could do was to answer his questions.

“Because I’m scared!” she replied, voice rising along with her own emotions and tears. The small Mandalorian pulled herself up in a sitting position again, her whole body turning to face him as she wiped every stubborn tear that spilled down her red cheeks. “I-I know I should’ve asked for your help, but– but I’ve been stupid, terribly so, to think that asking for your help would prove that my Alor… my ba’buir’s doubts about my priorities were true! That– That I’m not the same Reiel he knew! That if I went by myself, I would be proving that he’s wrong… that I'm still loyal to the clan and our people, not someone else, b-but I…”

She shouldn’t be crying. She should be answering to make Carrick understand. And she was, except she was afraid that all she was doing was painting an awful picture of her own grandparent for him to see. She felt even worse, but honest at the same time. Getting her own unwarranted fears out in the open felt… cathartic.

“I-I had to go alone… to prove something I shouldn’t even bother proving because I know where my priorities lie. I know that he’s wrong to doubt me, that he shouldn't even doubted me in the first place, but I’m stupid and scared enough to let it all get to me. So I… I had to go alone. So he won’t tell me to go back and stay. I had to go alone… I had to do things all by myself like I always did before I met you…” Reiel sobbed, wincing as pain flared from her injured side but she fought against it. “I had to, so I can keep staying here… with you.”

Maybe it wasn’t enough to answer his questions – hells, they might not even be the answers he wanted to hear. And while Reiel wondered how this mission to retrieve a stolen Mandalorian armor ended with this, it still made her chest lighten a little to finally have let those fears out. The only thing she now worried about was how Carrick would look at her from now on. Would he want to do anything with a woman and her petty doubts and fears? Would he get even more disappointed, more mad, with her? Reiel didn’t want to care, but she did.

She always would.

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

It was hard to engage with her like this, knowing that she was hurt by what he was saying but knowing that none of what he was saying was wrong. That it still had to be said regardless of how much it hurt her that it had to be said in the first place. She was the reason it needed to be said but he couldn't bring himself to feel any satisfaction in the fact that she was obviously caught up in that.

Because she was scared?

He... he didn't understand. His first thought was that she was scared of him, of his reaction to her asking to use the resources of Tinnel IV to help her on her mission. That first thought stung but she continued and explained herself. It was strange to him that she was afraid of her family but he didn't have much experience with family so he wasn't entirely sure what to say.

His family was all but gone aside from his uncle after all and their relationship was hardly happy families. Taking a deep breath, Carrick reached out for one of her hands and held it tightly in his left hand. The blood was still there but he doubted she currently gave a damn.

"Family should never make you feel afraid or scared." he muttered quietly, "I... will admit that I don't quite understand it."

He gestured with his free hand.

"Do they tell you that you must uphold the traditions of Mandalore with your bare hands? No, they let you use blasters and blades and everything else. How is using your other resources any different? They're tools being used by a Daughter of the way of the Mandalor - what matters is why you are doing it and if you succeed or not, surely?"

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

She should have stopped crying now that she had explained herself, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. If only her stupid fears could be washed away by her tears, then she would only stop once they have all run dry. Except they didn’t, and the knowledge only seemed to spur more tears out of her.

How could she still say that she was sure with her priorities, sure with her own self, when she was easily floored by a singular expression of doubt from one of her family? It shouldn’t have bothered her, but knowing that that doubt came from someone she loved and treasured deeply hurt more than any injury she could ever receive. Reiel looked at Carrick, then to their adjoined hands. Trying to quiet her sobs while he spoke, the small Mandalorian found herself squeezing his hand to offer him what comfort she could.

“You’re right,” she replied, sniffling. “It shouldn’t have mattered what resource I use or who it came from as long as they’re not the enemy of my people and as long as it helps our cause. But…”

Reiel rubbed at her eyes with the back of her free hand, the other squeezing Carrick’s again as if asking for more patience and strength.

“I don’t know if it would matter to you, but… Clan Crowholde hailed from House Viszla. Cin Crowholde, our clan’s leader, was a foundling of a member of the Death Watch. Ba’buir never liked to talk about it, but he’d seen enough of what happened to our people during the Clone Wars and beyond that.” Reiel let out a wry smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s a really old guy. Species advantage, perks of being one of those races with their awfully long lifespan, I guess. Don’t tell anyone I just told you that.”

The reminder was half-joking and -serious, but Reiel knew that Carrick would keep the information to himself.

“After the Siege of Mandalore, what remained of the Death Watch were either captured or scattered, according to Buir. Ba’buir was fortunate enough to escape, with only the name of his own father and the Way of the Mandalore in his heart. It took him decades upon decades before he broke off with what was left of his own clan to start his own, and even then it took him quite a while to find people who would be willing to embrace the Creed and follow the Way. We became the Children of the Watch, but my buir – not wanting to repeat whatever mistakes our people have done in the past – decided to make me choose between being a Child of the Watch or upholding the Resol’nare for what it really stands for without the influence of the Watch twisting it.”

And she had made her choice back in Sundari a long time ago, baring her face for the first time to show the path she chose. Reiel would’ve been dar’manda by now had she continued to live as a Child of the Watch. It was also with Srucayr’s help that she now fully understood what it meant to wear the helmet and armor, and the cause that rallied their people. No Death Watch, no divided clans, but hopefully Mandalore united. One day. Someday. She wondered if she would even live to see that day come.

Ah, but she was getting sidetracked, wasn’t she?

“You’re right,” Reiel repeated, meeting Carrick’s gaze and giving him an apologetic smile. “It shouldn’t matter what resource I use. But my grandfather thought that – and it’s pretty stupid of me to let it get the better of me, I admit – my time away from the clan was making me think more like an aruetii than a Mando’ad. That my priorities didn’t seem to be leaning towards our people any longer. To him, stuck in whatever old Viszla way he wants to preserve, asking for an outsider’s help is something like a betrayal to our clan. He’s old, experienced in ways I wouldn’t be. But he really shouldn’t be thinking like that, and I shouldn’t have let his doubts on me weigh me down. And yet I let them, out of fear of disappointing those I love. It’s scary, and it hurts. I don’t care if someone else felt that way towards me, but having your family, those who love and care for you more than you could ever do for them feel that towards you...”

Reiel shook her head, as if to physically remove any negative intrusive thoughts that dared linger in her mind.

For a clan who prided themselves on learning from the mistakes of their people in the past, her ba’buir seemed to be leaning away from what he and the other elders were trying to teach the younger members of Clan Crowholde. The realization prompted a snicker from the small Mandalorian, the action out of place from what had just transpired between him and Carrick mere moments ago.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I got myself stabbed for pretty stupid reasons in order to appease my silly ba’buir and to prove to him that I’m still me, not some buckethead leaning in too close to being dar’manda in his eyes.” Reiel squeezed Carrick’s hand again, this one harder than the last. “I’m sorry, you’re saddled with an equally silly woman who lets her family’s doubts pressure her into doing something so dumb. It won’t happen again.”

She placed her free hand atop his, gaze resolute.

“I mean it. I know where my loyalties lie as a Mandalorian. The next time something like this happens again, I won’t let anyone’s doubt hang over my integrity like a dark cloud. The next time something like this happens, I won’t go out alone and without help to try and prove myself. The next time something like this happens again, I’m going straight to you and ask for your help.”

The smile she gave him finally returned most of its brightness, and the red on her cheeks weren’t from her tears this time. Bashful, and bordering being flustered as she remembered what he had told her earlier, his own voice raised and his emotions rampant.

“We… um… h-have a planet, after all.”

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

As much as it was hard for him to truly understand what the Code demanded of the Mandalorians, he was the kind of person who knew what stress looked like when others bore it. He knew what a person looked like when they felt like they had the weight of the Galaxy on their shoulders and that was how Reiel walked far too often, most especially before one of her missions for Mandalore. It was fine seeing that in most people because he honestly, frankly, didn't care about too many people and he only cared about 'people' in a rather abstract sense.

That it was effecting Reiel was what managed to get to him and he knew it. He didn't need to see her crying to know that all of the pressure that she had been under had finally caught up to her and she was venting. So that was why had held her hand, squeezing it gently, but also why he didn't make any move to stop her crying. There was a quality to her crying that cut him deeper than he expected but he could tell that she needed to have the cry.

She needed the therapeutic release.

So he listened.

The history of her house and clan was interesting in an academic sense for you. Without having met any of them aside from the one she called her father, Carrick didn't feel much of a personal connection to them. That had everything to do with the fact that they were, apparently, the kind of clan that would not appreciate him as an outsider. His history lessons taught him that the Watch barely tolerated other Mandalorians so he had no illusions how they might see him.

That one of them was old enough to remember as far back as the ending of the Clone Wars was... staggering if he was being honest with himself. Species with long lifespans still tended to die from accidents and malice. And one who was a Mandalorian during times of strife and war? Well he was honestly surprised that the man hadn't died a dozen times over.

"You've already proven yourself before you even get your armor - that's my understanding of Mandalorian culture when you are a foundling - so what is this need to prove yourself again to be Mandalorian? The tests have been past, why are there more every day to 'stay Mandalorian' when no other clans seem to have that?"

He had seen Mandalorians out in the Galaxy who disrespected their culture and heritage far more than Reiel did and they didn't seem to be worried about being labeled Dar'manda. Carrick had heard of that phrase in his research and it was seldom in anything but a bad context.

In the end he just sighed a little bit and reached out with his free hand to poke her in the forehead gently with his fingertip. She was still crying but nowhere near as much as she had been before and she seemed to have calmed down enough to see where he had been coming from. He smirked ever so slightly when she threw his own words back at him and he was forced to examine what he had said himself.

They had a planet.

He had included her without meaning to, on instinct, and he found that he didn't think it was incorrect even as he literally examined his own words. No, they hadn't been wrong at all had they?

"Indeed, we have a planet." he agreed with a wider smirk before pressing his fingertip against her lips, "Next time? I'm coming with you. Understood?"

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

There was no way she could put her gratitude and utmost appreciation for his kindness to her and understanding, and Reiel could only hope that those feelings that threatened to make her heart burst reach Carrick through the Force. She honestly had no idea that she could fall even harder, deeper, for him, but his presence right now – the emotions he showed her and the words he spoke were more than enough proof of the small Mandalorian's love for her sorcerer.

The smile she gave him was made much brighter by the tears of happiness that now blurred her vision yet again, tension bleeding off of her shoulders. Her wounds still hurt, but compared to the pain from earlier it was now tolerable. Reiel placed a hand over Carrick's hand, kissing the finger that was lightly pressed against her lips before gently pulling it away.

“Understood, sir,“ she told him, the usual cheer in her voice returning now that she had let the pent-up pressure that weighed in her chest out. He wasn't a Mandalorian and yet his understanding had never been more accurate. She had been a Mandalorian the moment she accepted the Vow of Adoption spoken to her by Buir, and when she had passed her own verd'goten and crafted her own armor. Only she had the capacity to render herself dar'manda, aside from the Mand'alor, of course. But Reiel had no plans of throwing away the Creed that made her into who she was today. She might have been adopted into the culture but she knew, long before her rite of passage, that she was meant to be a Mandalorian.

Reiel never wanted to be anyone else.
“Thank you for knocking every bit of sense into my head, Carrick,“ she gratefully told her sorcerer, wiping away her tears with her free hand. “I guess it's clear who has the brains between the two of us now, huh?“

Chuckling lightly then wincing as the action reminded her of her injuries, Reiel's free hand rested on her bandaged side and feigned disappointment. “I bet they're gonna scar,“ she complained with a pout that did not linger on her face for more than a few moments. Then, unable to stop herself from reverting back to the sunshine smiles she always bore for him, Reiel told Carrick softly, sincerely, “Vor entye, ner cyar'ika.“

He'd done so much for her, and thanking him wouldn't be enough in return.

“You know, I've been wondering where you're learning Mando'a from. And behind my back, no less!“ Reiel then mused, eyes glinting with amusement as she gazed at Carrick. “And you're doing great so far, I admit, but...“ She leaned towards him, one hand brushing against his hair to try and get rid of the blood stuck there. He needed to take a shower to get rid of the blood in his hair and hands. “I suggest you learn straight from a Mando'ad.“

Reiel winked at Carrick, her cheeks turning pink while she shot him a rather flirtatious grin. “Care for some private lessons, ner bare?“

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

She was smiling wider than he had pretty much ever seen her smile before and it was beautiful. That it was also a sign that she was less likely to slip back down into her self-pity and self-recrimination was also a good sign. He liked it better when Reiel was aware just how much of a badass she was and she acted liked it, not when she was being stupid because someone else might not believe in her.

Reiel didn't need other people to believe in her or her right to be a Mandalorian. She was, by far, the most worthy of the title that he had seen. Certainly he had only seen a few but that didn't diminish who she was or what she had accomplished - what she deserved - no matter what anyone might say.

He smiled a little more.

"Good - I'll make sure not to do too much so the captures will still be yours."

Best to avoid doing too much of the heavy lifting considering he was now supposed to be a reputable member of society these days. He chuckled a little bit when she thanked him for knocking some sense into her. If it took being stabbed almost to death every time then that was going to be a big issue for him. So instead he just shook his head.

"You'll learn." he teased her before waving off her thanks with a hand and defaulting to a Mando'a expression he knew, "Kih'parjai."

Ah he knew she would ask him this question before long but he had no intention of letting her know just because she asked. He liked the idea of making her work for the knowledge, it amused him. Smirking ever so slightly, he leaned in to steal a kiss while she was trying to be coy and flirtatious. He enjoyed it when she was but he wasn't above taking advantage of it from time to time either.

"Ni malyasa'yr taylir ibic ranov'la, bare." he teased her with a smirk, "Katkta va gar liser atiniir teh ni."

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

Laughter, bright and appreciative, slipped past her before she could stop herself. It seemed that Carrick had been learning the language more progressively than Reiel had anticipated for him to slip so easily back into Mando'a almost as if by default. If someone else heard him now, she wouldn't fault them for assuming that he might have been a Mando who had long shed his belief. After all, her people really weren't that keen hearing outsiders speak their language – more so fluently like her sorcerer was doing.

If Carrick wasn't going to tell her who or where he was learning from, then she would just have to find out one way or another. Reiel didn't fancy herself a sleuth, but doing some investigative work was fun. She was going to tell him exactly that but was stopped when he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. The small Mandalorian's reaction was as expected, eyes widening in surprise and face turning red. They'd kissed more than she could count with her fingers – and done way more than that – but it still never failed to make her blush as if every kiss was her first.

"O-Okay, if that makes you s-sleep better at night!" she huffed in an attempt to tease him back, but the touch of crimson on her skin belied her suddenly flustered state. Damn his charm and... and stupid kisses! "Ni malyasa'yr mar'eyir dayn ku waev nirau'av!"

Small hands found the lower half of his face, covering his mouth in a measly attempt to stop any further sneaky kisses he might have had in store for her. Reiel then scooted closer to Carrick, removing her hands from his face to wrap her arms around his shoulders. The small Mandalorian then buried her face on the crook of his neck, letting out a content sigh as she clung to him, basking in his warmth.

"I'll still be a better teacher than whoever's teaching you. You don't have to pay me in credits, even. Just kisses and hugs," she mumbled with a pout. One hand drifted down to take one of his, still stained with her blood. Reiel shifted and looked down at his hand with a light frown. "We gotta clean this up," she muttered, letting his hand go to card her fingers through his hair, "and this, too."

Pulling away from the hug – and reluctantly at that – she moved to the edge of the bed to get up on her feet, hands finding purchase on Carrick's shoulders to steady herself. Her injuries throbbed dully in pain but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She hadn't properly thanked him yet for looking after her and staying by her side, and it was her turn to look after him. She took his hands in hers and would pull him up on his feet.

"C'mon, cyare. I know I'm gonna be out of commission until these wounds fully heal, but I don't want to slack off and just stay in bed." The small Mandalorian shot her sorcerer a grin and another wink before she would pull him with her to the bathroom. "The blood of yor enemies might look good on you, but mine doesn't!"

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

She was lightening up and Carrick felt a tension in his chest beginning to unwind at the sight of it - that it was a tension he hadn't even been aware of having was mildly concerning but not enough for him to make a big deal out of it. Instead he just pushed that thought aside for now and focused on the moment, the present. Some of his training as a Jedi was useful for situations like this, actually, for times when it was better to focus on the present than it was to try and divine some kind of future from the feelings and actions that accounted for the present.

Sometimes he envied the Force-Blind for the way they didn't get shattered splinters of possible futures when they didn't concentrate their minds and thoughts before sleep.

"One can keep a secret, but two can't my dear." he teased her right back with a small smirk, "You can try and find out but I assure you; you will not be able to figure it out."

Because the way he was learning didn't actually involve another sentient assisting him with the translation at all - he was learning it all from audio logs and writings that had been discovered and made public. Of course it had been made public by the Empire so he wasn't exactly about to brag about that to Reiel, not given what the Empire had made sure to do to the Mandalorians and their culture over the course of dozens of years.

He smirked ever so slightly.

"Well I feel like that's a better deal." he agreed, "Is it one word per kiss, I wonder? What about... those little moments... when I can make you... forget everything else?"

Each pause was punctuated with a kiss along her neck, getting closer and closer to her ear until he was able to gently tug at her earlobe with his teeth.

"That worth more?"

She had a point though - bloody wasn't a look he was particularly enamored with. Shrugging, he pushed himself up to his feet before pointing at her.

"Well you got me this messy in the first place so I blame you. You going to help me clean up?"

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

Sign her up for a gunfight or even toss her in a fighting pit as long as she had her trusty blasters and vibroknives with her, but not in a conflict that dealt with emotions. Reiel never liked starting or being the cause of those, and she considered herself lucky that Carrick's anger and worry for her safety didn't escalate into a fight she knew she would not win. To be fair the small Mandalorian didn't even like the idea of coming to a physical fight with her sorcerer when push came to a shove, either, so she was glad that the issue with her being stabbed and being stubborn over the fate of a set of Mandalorian armor was resolved with her gaining more confidence in her identity as a Mando'ad.

And while he was back to teasing her Reiel felt even more happy that things were going back to normal between the two of them. There was no way in hell she wouldn't take him to her next bout of Mando Duties now – as long as he wasn't busy with his own senatorial duties. It wouldn't be fun nor nice to make him choose between her and his job.

"You're really challenging me, huh, mesh'la?" she said with a smirk. "You know I can't turn down a challenge – more so when it comes from you. You're gonna regret this once I find out who's teaching you."

Her mind was already picking up on things he'd mentioned in passing with regards to learning Mando'a. There weren't much in the first place, but the one that immediately struck her was that one time he said something about reading Mandalorian poetry. Curious – if he had been reading Mando literature then he had to learn how to read the characters first. Or had he found someone who translated it in Basic? Because as far as she could remember she had called him "love" in Mando'a and he said it sounded familiar...

Carrick's lips left a blazing trail on her neck, causing Reiel to stumble through her thoughts. For half a moment she forgot the info she was trying to construct in an attempt to uncover the secret of who was teaching him her people's language. Those were just kisses, they shouldn't even be affecting her this much–

Teeth followed, tugging gently on her earlobe and Reiel swore her face would explode from how hot it felt any moment now. Lips pressed together in a thin line and eyes wide, the small Mandalorian took the hand pointing at her and began to pull her sorcerer out of the guestroom and into his. His bathtub was large enough to fit the two of them and... and...

Those were definitely worth more than she had initially asked of him for payment. And she wouldn't even fight to disagree – not when he'd upped the bargain she would reap a ton of benefits from.

Maker, she really was a pervert for this man, someone send help–

Face bright red and brown eyes flashing with sudden impatience, Reiel glanced at Carrick over her shoulder and shot him what she hoped was a seductive smile.

"I wouldn't mention it if I wasn't going to help, Carrick," she purred at him, trying to fight the embarrassed laugh that threatened to escape her. Turning to face him, she stood on her toes and pulled him down to her level, pressing her lips against his in a quick and light kiss. "And as you said, I'm to blame for getting you messy. There's the issue of bloodstains on your kitchen floor as well..."

Pulling away from him, the teasing grin on her face belied the way she innocently blinked up at him. Upon reaching the bathroom she made quick work of plugging the drain, bending down to do so, and turning on the tap to fill the tub with water before turning to face him again.

"I made a mess on your kitchen, bloodied your hands and hair, and made you worry. A bit angry as well, perhaps," she whispered, head tilting a little to the side to bare her neck at him. "That's not very nice of me, no?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

Carrick was, inside, still quite upset about what she had gotten up to during her Mando duties and the fact that she had almost killed herself over the stupid things. But he was doing his best to try and move past that for now. He enjoyed teasing her and being more intimate with her and if he switched focus to that then he wouldn't have to deal with the root cause of her worries about her.

The fact that he was only angry because he had been worried and he had only gotten worried because... well, because he cared. Examining how much he actually cared about the small Mandalorian? That was something Carrick was in no rush to do, not wanting to really examine his emotions like that. They came to him slightly differently because of his training after all and he didn't want to be overly analytical when he felt things.

"If I didn't challenge you, you'd have left by now." he declared boldly with a smirk, "Off to do some more Mando duties or the like. But as I said - you can try, Reiel, you can try."

A comment from his training about the word "try" floated into his mind and he did he best to ignore it.

He was enjoying the more physical side of teasing her after all and that left little room in mind for the ramblings of long-dead Jedi. They were always mood-killers too so they could be very safely ignored in his books. The way she lit up bright red was something that both amused him and made him feel accomplished as it did something to awaken the hunger inside him.

"So proactive..." he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist to pin her to his front lightly as she turned to kill him, allowing himself to lean down to meet her, "Let the cleaning staff deal with the kitchen. It's what I pay them for."

Well, their cleaning and their ability to keep secrets.

Moving into his bathroom behind her, Carrick made sure to keep himself silent as he moved. Rather than touch her again, despite the show she was definitely putting on on purpose, Carrick instead took the time to strip himself out of the clothes he had been in when he found her. The clothes that had taken on different colours since that he found... distasteful. Tossing his bloodied clothes to one side, he leaned into her from behind, kissing her neck, knowing she would be able to tell that he was no longer wearing clothes now.

He couldn't very well bathed clothed after all.

"Not very nice at all." he all-but growled into her ear, "Worried and angry I was... you're going to have to make that up to me."

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Reiel Mal Crowholde]

There was no reason to leave, nor had she found any reason to. She'd remain with him – challenge or no challenge – for as long as he wanted for her to stay and even then Reiel honestly couldn't think what she'd feel if he told her to leave. Or if he didn't want her around anymore, for that matter. Considering the fact that she already loved him, leaving permanently would be karking hard and she knew that it would break her heart.

She shook those thoughts off, silently berating herself for even entertaining them. Worrying about the future would only make her miss the present, and in her books the present was more important than the future. It was the former that will dictate the latter, after all, and hadn't she declared a vow to make Carrick fall for her? She chuckled lightly as she placed her hands on the arms that were now wrapped around her middle, squeezing a little hard as her chuckles melted into giggles when he placed a kiss on her neck. That tickled!

The small Mandalorian had heard the rustling of his clothes as he took them off and let them fall on the floor. Knowing that he was already naked only served to make her even more flustered, and she swallowed a little too audibly for her liking when he all but growled into her ear how worried and angry he had been.

Reiel looked at Carrick over her shoulder, brown eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him through her lashes. Her grip on his arms tightened a little, her cheeks displaying a lovely shade of red for him to admire alone. She felt warm, too damn warm, and one of her hands wandered down to toy at the hem of her shirt.

"Of course I will," she whispered, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his jaw. Keeping her eyes on his Reiel deftly loosened his arms off of her so she could turn around to face him. Small hands smoothed over his chest down to his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under her touch. Reiel pressed a light kiss on the center of Carrick's chest before moving away slightly to lead him into the tub. "Told you I'd help you get cleaned up, didn't I?"

With a tiny smirk the small Mandalorian began to undress as well, slowly, almost teasingly, as she removed one article of clothing after another while stepping into the tub. Once the last piece of her clothing was discarded Reiel sat down, grinning at Carrick and beckoning for him to join her, knees tucked up against her chest in a lazy attempt to hide her nakedness from him.

"Come on in, cyare. Let me give you a bath."

Laughing a little, she stretched out a hand forward to splash water at him, her eyes bright with mischief as she gazed up at her sorcerer.

@Nefieslab

 

[Carrick]

Innocence was often not a look that people would associate with Mandalorians but it was something of a common label for small women. In the case of Reiel, who was both, it seemed that her innocence was more of a carefully constructed lie. Because no one who was innocent would have thought up something like this.

Truly she was a devious woman.

Reaching up, he ran his fingertips through her hair gently with a smirk as they stood together and ducked in to receive a light peck from the small woman.

“Give a Mandalorian some bacta and she starts acting like you’re the one injured.” He teased her, giving her a small kiss to the forehead as she stepped away from him, “I should be the one taking care of you…”

Of course his objections didn’t last as neither did her clothes.

Strange how those two were connected.

With a put upon sigh, Carrick stepped into the large bath with his back to Reiel’s knees. The water was enjoyable but he was a little bit confused as to what she was going to do in this position. This was his first joint bath – such a strange thing to have as a first.

“Going to wash my back?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her with a small smirk, “I would have thought I’d be behind you, not the other way round. We know my way is a lot more fun…”

@Forsythe Crowholde