Ask [Tol Amn] Despite Everything

[Kotii Solus]

Once again Kotii heard his enemy make assumptions about him. But there was no point in further protest. Trying to convince them with words had never been his strong suit. Actions and results were what mattered just as much as intentions did. Sometimes even more-so.

He had given his warriors a warning after the events on Mandalore when Darth Raze had arrived. Over Hypori, he had told them to give no mercy and to expect none. Hypocritically he wasn't allowing himself to fall into that mindset. Hearing her say as much reminded him to not take it easy on her all the same.

She deflected his thrown blade well enough and he made a mental note of where it glanced off to. The two wounded warriors clashed fiercly in the deluge. Kotii brought his remaining vibroblade down to block the slash and deflect to glance off in a sparking impact with his reverse angled grip. At that point jumping would risk getting his leg slashed or cut so he remained on the ground in close reach. That was what he needed.

The Alor in Exile took another sweeping step forward and spun to face the lithe fighter. Kotii expected her position and the next likely strike if he were in her boots. But when the badger came about as swiftly as he could he halted. The lost knife would return to his left hand's grasp in due time but right hand continued to clasp around the hilt of his knife ready to plunge forward with the attack or defend. His free hand extending towards the lost knife and activating the magna-glove on that hand.

His body remained tense wondering if this was a ploy. His chest was heaving beneath his armored plating. The thought that they were just saying such things to try and maneuver themselves into 'suicide by dar'manda' had crossed Kotii's mind. Well he knew one way to try and make sure she would not attack him without killing her.

Relaxing only slightly, he kept both blades at the ready and approached her from behind. If she came at him with the sword of wren, he would do his best to block her weapon attacks with his own. But instead of striking her with either blade, the badger reeled his helmeted head back and launched it forward into a headbutt.

Kotii expected the ringing pain and the wracked skull sensation. But it was the fastest and most Solus way to knock someone out. Rather than throw a knife or drag this out longer than it had to be, he wanted to firmly knock the Mandalorian out. Hopefully in her weakened state and maybe a bit of surprise would help have her fall unconscious.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

Song stumbled against the impact of Kotii’s headbutt. She nearly tripped over a tangle of mossy roots and fought to regain her footing. Once she did, sure that the Mandalorian wouldn’t press the attack, she raised her sword at him, appearing not in the least troubled by his blow. “Nice try,” she said, teetering slightly. “But I’ve dealt with worse headbutts from better badgers.” She turned to face the Solus, but the sheer movement made her stagger like some street-side drunkard. “You should have killed me there, but you wasted your opening on sentiment. Why?”

She shook her head, as if that might dislodge the sudden headache she was feeling. Blood sang in her ears. The pain in her wound had become startlingly clear as well, and she grit her teeth in irritation. His answer didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Song had traveled the Rim to find and kill the former alor, and spending more time talking—and exhausting what little energy she had left—would get her nowhere. If there was a compromise to be found, she had long already burned it along with the rest of the forest.

“Forget it,” she said in a growl of frustration. “You won’t stop me, Kotii Solus, and it’s going to take more than a simple headbutt to…” She paused, standing there for a long, agonizing moment. Rain fell around in sheets. It felt like the whole world had come to an unexpected stop, and as black began to crowd the edges of her vision, she let out a little laugh. “Oh.”

Then her eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she collapsed.

Unconscious, Song met the ground with a soft, wet thud. She’d severely underestimated Solus' blow to her head, and on top of her injuries and lacking strength, the concussion that followed had been more than enough to silence her last words. Although she’d moved like a flowing river, Kotii was the boulder in its center, unmovable and unwavering. No amount of crashing water would erode or displace him. Fighting him on even ground, perhaps, had been pointless from the start.

The victor had been determined the moment Song had stepped into that empty clearing. Like an animal lured into a trap, she’d been ensnared, wounded, and now, she could do nothing but lay and await her fate.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

The hard clang of his helmet cracking rattled Kotii's brain. If he had not done it countless times before to other enemies, he would have been more dazed by the attack. But it seemed the Wren was as tough as they come and only staggered a bit.

His shoulders were rising and falling and the Mandalorian's chest was heaving, trying to recover from all the exertion and adrenaline from the fight up until now. "Because it doesn't have to be -" It was cliche, Kotii realized even as he said it. It earned him a dismissive interruption from Song.

The shaking of her head, the imprecise movements compared to how she was acting earlier, it all led him to believe she was concussed or succumbing to some other injury. A pause in her speech, the woman's body language and an exclamation was all the badger needed to move into action. Or at least he tried to, but only managed to reach out to grasp her arm before she fell into the muck before him.

Standing there with one arm half extended in the rain, Kotii looked at the prone form of his foe in the mud. The Solus's hand returned to his side, balling momentarily into a fist. The Mandalorian's shoulders seem to sink lower, lamenting that his attempts to reach Song both with reason and reach had failed.

Kotii would sigh deeply, relaxing his hand as he stood a moment longer before kneeling down to the prone form of the Wren. A wince followed as the injury in his leg flared. "AHh!...You're not the only one who's stubborn in their beliefs." He muttered to himself and pulled off his right hand's glove. Reaching under her helmet and touching her throat, Kotii checked for a pulse. The man's head bowed and his eyes closed behind his visor as he felt life still flow in the Wren. <"Thank you.">

Looking to her side, the glint of the beskad of clan Wren sat reflecting the orange and yellow flames around them. A blue flash of lightening from above and behind Kotii backlit his silhouette in the reflection in the sword. For a heart beat the half corellian stared, not at the sword, but at himself. Shaking himself out of his thoughts he picked up the sword and its sheath. The same would happen with what items he could find nearby. But he knew he could not stay out in the open long.

In the clearing his starfighter still remained. Smoke still curled from the vehicle where its nose was still buried in the ground. Pools of water had filled in the gouged earth and patches of fire gave him enough light to work by. The next few minutes would see Black Hand dismantling and taking what was left from his ship to rig a hover sled.

The nearest town was a few hours away on foot, less if he flew on his jetpack. But Kotii was not going to leave the Wren out in the open to be fed on by AMS or death by exposure. She deserved better than that. Putting a pair of stun cuffs around her wrists and making sure her ammunition in her armor was emptied as well as relieved of all weapons. She could wake up at any moment and decide to attack him.

The scatterweave clad Mandalorian would grunt in pain as he lifted his Song onto the hoversled. Some supplies were taken from his ship and added to the hover sled but it wasn't much. Grabbing the cable and pulling it over his shoulder, Kotii would begin to drag the Wren towards what used to count for civilization. You and I may just end up spending the rest of our days here He thought to himself. But he pushed those thoughts away and instead tried to be productive. Maybe he could rig a signal or find a ship, possibly even parts to repair his or the Wren's ship. <"I'm going to find a way off this rock."> He vowed to the forgotten gods of Mandalore.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

When the dark claimed her, Song dreamt of her second hunt.

Snow in her boots. Frostbite at the tips of her fingers. Ice dusting her hair like powdered sugar. And gods, she wished it was sugar, because for the last two weeks she’d been feeding only on ravens and wood bark, using just a single knife to skin the trees and dead, ensnared birds. She was lucky she was good with a blade, else she’d have died on the first day of her trial. If she intended to become a true Mandalorian someday, a Wren, then she needed to survive this. Survive no matter what.

When she did survive, when she’d earned her place among her people, those words had followed Song throughout her childhood. Survive. She’d said them while climbing mountains, while fending off wolves, and especially when facing down her mother after she’d been caught stealing biscuits fresh out of the furnace. Survive. She repeated the demand like a mantra. Somehow, it never failed her, not even into adulthood, where she was twice as dumb and a hundred times more reckless. Survive.

Even now that word rang in her mind, screaming at her to wake.

And when she did, she woke like a corpse right out of its grave.

Song jolted, sitting up straight, ready to punch someone in the throat. Problem was, her hands were cuffed, and worse, she'd been immediately met by the worst headache in her life. She cringed. “Facefuckery…” she muttered, raising her bound hands to her skull. She squinted, trying to blink the stars out of her eyes—and not the ones in the sky above her, white pearls in an ocean of black. The storm must have finally lifted. For now, at least.

Song examined her cuffs, then the odd sled she was seated upon, and then, at last, to the Mandalorian who’d done it all. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, not especially pleased to see the former Solus’alor. “What is this?” She gestured to the makeshift sled. “Planning to cart me off to some secret base to interrogate me? If you think I’m going to tell you anything about the Mand’alor or Clan Wren, you’d be dead wrong.”

It wasn’t like she knew much anyway. Fenyang had been missing for weeks, and the other clans had been working in their own corners during his absence, acting as if he’d never left to begin with. Kotii would learn nothing from her, and whatever information she did possess, she would sooner bite off her own tongue than give it to the likes of him. An exile. The enemy.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Spoiler: Music

The night had come and gone as had the storm by the time Kotii came into view of Murkport. The town lived up to the name and had a forboding air. The abandoned streets and hollowed out speeders overgrown with grass and weeds told a sad story. Some vehicles still had skeletal remains on the interior or splatters from violent events, having since dried long ago into dark stains.

The ex-Solus'alor switched to his thermal vision when he drew closer to the town. The Wren was still being pulled behind him on a the makeshift hoversled along with limited supplies. The Mandalorian knew that those infected with the AMS, or suffering from PNE-2, had higher body temperatures than average, especially when first succumbing to the virus. But from what he knew, the planet of Tol Amn had been afflicted with the undead masses for years.

He did not want to go too deep into the city. First things first was to find a good defensable possition where he could stash the Wren safely. Sure enough, Black Hand caught sight of over a dozen infected figures down the street from where he was. Looking to either side, he saw a three story building nearby and tried as best he could to evade direct confrontation. Fighting them would probably only bring more that the badger could not see.

Kotii entered through the back of the building, arriving at the rear stairwell. There was a complete absence of activity as all surfaces seemed to reflect nature taking back the area. A lack of consistent civilized traffic or habitation also meant there was a complete lack of artificial lights, power and all the normal amenities one normally takes for granted. This will do

The Mandalorian would drag the hoversled up the incline of the stairwell since the elevator wasn't an option. Kotii checked the rest of the building, finding only one infected in the building and eliminating them with a knife to the back of the head. With two floors between them and the ground, Kotii felt a bit safer.

Kotii grunted as he dropped onto a desk stool. The man removed his right shoulder plate and his left thigh plate with care. Maybe he had made enough noise or perhaps the light peaking in through the windows was the reason the Wren snapped awake.

Hearing her mutter a curse, the black armored Mandalorian's helmet tilted to one side while his eyebrow raise quizzically behind it. There was a bed in the room but Black Hand had chosen to leave Song on the hover sled for the time being. She sat up looking back at him with her stylized yellow and grey helm and emotionless T-visor. But he could tell she was still somewhat hostile towards him.

"You really don't think much of me do you?" It was a rhetorical question that was followed by a shrug from Black Hand which he almost instantly regretted. He inhaled sharply and winced before continuing. "I'm not interested in that. Instead...tell me, ahh, mighty bird, do you have children?" Probably with the current circumstances that sounded like a threat but that was far from what Black Hand had intended. "I have son, Hauron." He volunteered that information, hoping to encourage Song to answer.

The edges of his mouth curled into a smile as he thought of the mikkian's young face. He's probably grown a few inches since his Buir had last seen him. Kotii continued to work on the damaged circuitry of his armor but the blaster shots had done some significant damage. Even the scatterweave had been flash-burned away at the center of where the bolts had struck.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

She raised her head at him, feeling fire swell inside her at the sight of his armor and that badger sigil still imprinted onto his left shoulder. Anger was an old friend. It helped to numb the pain in her own shoulder, the ache in her legs, and the tug of old scars and new. It was perhaps the only thing that kept her alive so far, and at the same time, probably the reason that would get her killed. She tended to be rather loose-lipped when it came to getting captured—and a little blunt.

Next to a man like Kotii, it was impossible not to be.

“This may come as a shock, but it’s hard to think fondly of a man branded as dar’manda by his own clan.” She leaned against the concrete wall, a blade of sunlight catching the edge of her visor, hands flexing against her cuffs. She glowered at him at his next question. Phrased like a threat, yet asked like a harmless curiosity. She might not understand just what Kotii wanted from her, but she wouldn’t so easily give into whatever game he was playing.

“You have a son?” she repeated with a snort. “I didn’t take you for a father figure, although I’m more surprised you managed to find someone sober enough to get into bed with you.” She tilted her head. “Or a kid so lonely and desperate that you were the only option they had left.” Song knew she was being unnecessarily harsh, but given the fact she was bound and still plagued by a headache courtesy of the former Solus’alor, she didn’t really care about hurting his feelings—or risking her life.

“But if you must know, I don’t have children. None you can steal away and indoctrinate, at least. Sorry.” She shrugged, her smile apparent even with her face masked. Song might not have been able to beat him in a straight fight, but she could still fight him with a few ugly and pointed words.

She swiveled her head, taking in her surroundings. The room was small and cramped, only with a single bed and a desk layered in dust and old papers. Through the window, she could tell they were a story or two up from the ground, but seated on the floor it was hard to tell just where she was or how they’d got there in the first place. Gods, and how long had she been knocked out? Had Kotii really dragged her on a sled at such a distance, over an entire day, and on his own?

An impatient muscle ticked in her jaw. She needed answers. “If this is your secret base,” Song continued, “then it could use some serious renovations.” She sniffed and her nostrils flared. “And Mandalore, it smells like a graveyard in here. That, or you clearly need a bath.” She paused. “So, where are we?”

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Good thing I've never much cared for the opinions of others He thought to himself after Song's reply. She had a point. If Kotii had come across another Dar'manda there would be little in the way of hesitation if any at all in attacking them in the way she had.

"Mhm." He nodded when she questioned his fatherhood. The Wren was full of spite and her words were sassy to say the least. "Sometimes...I surprise myself." He admitted out loud. Words hurt but the man did not show it. If someone had told him he would be raising a boy a decade ago, he would not have believed them. But now he was glad for finding Hauron. Perhaps he would count himself even blessed.

The Exile paused in his work and looked at Song after implying he would kidnap children. He stared at her in silence for a heartbeat longer than customary. "I'm not a Sith." His temper rose to the surface in his tone, displaying his hatred for the dark siders. "We're supposed to be better than they are." Kotii added before turning back to the repair work.

Kotii took in a deep breath and sighed. Both to calm himself and to audibly react to the complaints of the Wren. "I'm not planning to remodel." He quipped back before she continued. His helmet tilted up to look at the reinforced window allowing light to come in and then moved back to the Wren. "I'm not stripping for you, heh." He gave a slight chuckle at his own humor. "But if you've got a complaint about the smell, that's probably because of the horde outside. Just be glad your voice doesn't carry." He hoped that Song was aware that Tol Amn was infested with the AMS undead.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

The mention of the Sith made her brows furrow. She knew what Kotii meant. They were monsters, conquerers responsible for the genocides committed on multiple, defenseless worlds over the last several years. Then there was the Empire she’d been raised to hate, the one who’d ravaged Mandalore in the Night of a Thousand Tears. History said plenty about them. To know that both she and the Mand’alor had aligned with those same people… it troubled her more than she wanted to admit.

But she’d never admit that to Kotii. She wouldn’t be swayed by whatever silver tongue or gilded words he had stuffed in his mouth. She was better than that.

And yet, to her surprise, the Solus didn’t push the subject further. Instead he let out a ragged breath and continued working on his ruined armor, answering her questions with the kind of vague attitude she expected. Not so much his crass humor. The thought of him removing his armor, revealing his face, piqued her curiosity. She was tempted to press, but her better judgment kept her lips sealed and she just snorted and rolled her eyes.

The real issue was what he said next.

“A horde?” she repeated, careful enough to hide her unease at the revelation. “You brought us into the den of a horde?” In spite of her shock and outrage, she’d kept her voice to a low murmur, obviously taking heed of his advice. “I can tell we’re a story or two off the ground. How did you even drag the both of us up here alone without alerting them?” Suspicion crept into her tone as she glowered at him. “Unless you’re not alone.”

Song leaned back against the wall. It didn’t matter if he was or not. She knew that was a question he wouldn’t answer. Instead she relaxed, flexing her wrists against her cuffs once more, testing them, while giving the room another sweep. She might as well cut to the chase. “So, what now?” she asked him. “Do you intend to feed me to the infected outside? You won’t have my death on your hands, so you’ll see how long I last against an undead mob?”

There was no malice or disgust in her voice, just a distant coldness. An understanding. “If it’s entertainment you want, you could always release me from these cuffs and I could show you some myself.” She knew how that would go, considering her injuries and lack of weapons, but what else was there to do? Rot?

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

"The hoversled I rigged helped and....you're not as heavy as you think." He shrugged like it was no big deal. The man was a bit tired after pulling her across the wilderness as he had yet to rest. But he would be dealing with his wounds momentarily. With his damaged plates removed, Kotii could try to apply bacta patches in the areas Song had hit. At least that could begin the healing process and prevent infection on this Manda forsaken planet.

Song was suspicious of him still and imagined him to be so cruel as to send her to the damned. It was hard to not take it personally but the badger just focused on his work. "No." He answered stoicly as if it were the thousandth time she had asked him.

But Song's next offer made him hesitate in his patching of his thigh. He expected her to give a follow up of, just kidding. His head noded slightly at first. "While I'm sure it would be..." It then shook from side to side. "...once again, you misunderstand the kind of man I am." First it was followed by another sigh and then a shrug of the Mandalorian's shoulders. "Another place...another time...perhaps." His tone was genuine. But even putting aside the fact that he felt devoted to Mysha already, it was one of the easiest ploys to kill someone by trying to get into their pants. Not to mention he would have an easier time believing her interest in him if she would ease up on the conspiracy. He needed to believe she trusted him and there was no way he felt that. He doubted he ever would.

The ex Solus'alor would bring the medical kit over to the Wren seeing as she had been injured. He stopped out of reach of her for a moment a looked to give her a moment to think before he got closer. It was clear he had already made a decision of some sort. "My plan...is to look through the surrounding area for a ship. There's no guarantee I'll find one that can fly or even send a message that won't get us picked up by pirates. I could use your help." He was not agreeing to let her out of the stun cuffs yet. But the echani offshoot was also offering to treat her wounds if she accepted.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

Not as heavy as you think? Song repeated internally, unsure whether to feel insulted or not. She was on the lighter side compared to most Mandalorians, but only because she focused more on speed and agility, not muscle and brute strength. Perhaps that was why she’d lost to begin with. She might be a Wren, with flight and the wings of a bird, but once you were caught in a badger’s claws, there was little else to do besides wait to be squished.

Except she hadn’t been, and she wasn’t dead, yet.

She huffed, and at his response, shrugged carelessly. “What, was I too obvious?” she said and snorted a laugh. Song figured he wouldn’t have fallen for a trick that easy, even if most men would. Because Kotii wasn’t like most men. He might’ve been dar’manda, but he was a Solus at heart and not some third-rate bounty hunter with the libido of a spice-addled sewer rat. As much as she despised him, she could at least cut him some credit in that regard.

While he shifted closer to where she sat, Song stared him down. By now, it was obvious he meant her no harm, what with his constant ‘badgering’ about how good and generous he was, but she didn’t quite trust him enough to start planning an escape together. “Stench of dismembered corpses notwithstanding, I don’t think this city’s the kind of place where you can find a working ship just conveniently laying around. Even with my help.”

She looked at him for a long moment, a hundred thoughts warring in her mind. Gods, just what was she about to get herself into?

She rolled her eyes and released an exasperated breath, as if she had no other choice than to listen. Which, technically, she didn’t. “Go on, then,” she told him. “Patch me up already. We don’t have all week, and between the two of us, I doubt we even have the rations to last you the day.” She angled her wounded shoulder toward him, not lost to the needles of pain that spread down her arm. “I just don’t understand what you want me to do if you’re not going to remove these cuffs. Flap my arms like some porg?”

Song glowered at him. “I am not acting as bait, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

"I share in your optimism..." He snarked in response. Underneath a slight quirk of his lips turned into a smug grin. "...which is why I'm wanting the help." Eventually she gave a frustrated huff and he could see her relax a little further as she then gave permission for him to tend to her injuries. Even if there was complete desire to kill Kotii, Song could understand the shared interest in survival.

She continued with her 'optimism' as he took a closer look, starting with her left shoulder. It was the same shoulder that he had also hit with a stun bolt later. The Hunter was glad to not be on the receiving end of heavy blaster weapons too often. He too had felt their sting on rare occasion. Still, he did not regret shooting the warrior. It was a necessary act for his own survival and in self defense. It was one of the resol'nar, to defend one's self and one's family.

"Day and a half..." he corrected to but knew it wasn't much better. "...for the both of us." He addded as he had managed to scavange some from his crashed starfighter before leaving. It was enough for three day alone, but he was fully intending to split it half way with Song. "Unless you managed to pull extra off your ship before you ditched it." He was pretty sure she had crashed and her ship was out of commission. The supplies were all still on the hoversled that he had pulled the Wren in on. Along with it was also the sheathed sword of clan Wren and Song's other trappings.

"I plan to remove them. I'm just...not sure I trust you not to throttle me at your first chance." He said honestly despite being within choking reach as the red armored Mandalorian looked into her injuries. If she wanted to, she could begin the fight again in their state. But Kotii was being idealistic and hoping she wouldn't take advantage.

"If we can't find an intact ship then we'll scavenge the parts from others." He wasn't the type to stop pushing for a new objective. Giving up was never an option for a Solus. There was always something to fight for. His voice intensified as he continued. "If we can't get a ship to work or find the parts, then we'll find the means to send a communication signal to someone." Kotii wouldn't allow himself to accept anything else than getting off of this planet alive. It was more than that. He would fight for the Wren against the undead, against enemies unknown to her. But Kotii couldn't very well say that. Instead she would only believe it in time when he showed her so he remained silent.

"Is there pain anywhere?" He asked for the purposes of any non-obvious injuries that could be concealed beneath the armor. Her shoulder was applied the same sort of bacta patch as his own wounds had. He was confident she had mostly avoided the wrist flame projector from earlier. But second and third degree burns might still be worth looking at. Maybe she had even taken some damage in her crash and had yet to succumb to any sideaffects thanks to that famous Mandalorian resilience or focus for violence. Her plates would be set aside but remain within reach of her. "You'll want to leave that off for at least the next fifteen minutes. Keeps the adhesive from coming loose."

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

A flush crept up her neck as Kotii inched closer and checked her wounds. She found his ‘never-give-up’ attitude, his back-up plan, and his insistent desire to help her rather amusing. Strange, too. It was not something she was quite used to, not among any of the Mandalorians she’d worked with and known in the past.

“You’re just brimming with optimism, dar’manda. Have you ever considered motivational speaking?” She smirked, obviously joking. She’d never known someone who could carry so many ideals on their back without fracturing under the pressure, but the badger served as living proof. Refusing to shoot her. Sparing her life. Tending to the wounds he’d given her and asking for her help in the same breath. She couldn’t believe just how unrealistic, how naive, he could be—and yet, the worse thing was, she found it incredibly difficult to hate him for it.

She found it hard to hate him in general.

A sting of pain touched her shoulder and she grunted as Kotii applied the bacta patch over her shoulder. At his next question, she glowered at him. “There’s pain everywhere,” she answered honestly. “My legs and arms ache, I’ve got minor burns on my hands and wrists, and I think I still have a concussion from when you smashed your head against mine.” Song scoffed and rolled her eyes. “But otherwise, I should be fine. I’ve dealt with worse wounds before, and by better men.” A lie. She hadn’t felt this sorely since she started training with a sword.

As Kotii cast aside her worn armor plates, she glanced down at her body, feeling a little exposed, even though she had bantha hides bound around her chest and a comfortable amount plating down her waist. While she should have felt colder without them, the tips of her ears felt hot, and she chalked it up to the fact that the room, tattered and ruined as it was, must have still had a working heater. “I’m not an idiot,” she snapped at him, “I know how to treat my own wounds.”

Another lie. She was an absolutely terrible medic.

An awkward silence settled in the room. Which, at this point, seemed to be becoming a habit between them. It was only a minute after juggling his idea of a plan in her mind that she finally sighed, and loudly, like an agitated little girl. “Oh, for Mandalore’s sake,” she said. “I’ll help you. Just… can you take these off already?” She extended her arms out to him. “If you don’t, I’m taking them off myself, and I would prefer not to dislocate my thumbs trying.”

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Kotii's jaw clenched behind his mask when he was called Dar'manda. It wasn't the first time he had been called that and it would not be the last, by her or others. But it served to refresh his estrangement from his people. Whether the Wren knew what it meant to the Solus or not, it reflected his position from other Mandalorians. Nowadays he debated whether he was truely an apostate or just an underdog fighting the greater foe.

Kotii was born and raised among the greatest warriors the galaxy had seen. His whole life had been one of survival and serving his fellows. House Solus had been fractured and so had the rest of the Mandalorians. Ironically it had been similar to how he lived now. Feared and hated by the rest of the galaxy regardless of his intentions, Kotii still wanted to lead other clans to a better status in life. Rising to the rank of Alor and subsequently losing it so that others could serve the oppressors that had abused them time and time again was perhaps his greatest shame and worst nightmare. Squashing any 'others' and slaughtering innocents just because they could was not his idea of what being a Mandalorian was. That just made them a different shade of killer and one step away from the evil that was all too present in the galaxy.

Leaving Mandalore and being labeled dar'manda had given him a chance to reflect. With time, the badger had contemplated on the nature of his tribe. They were warriors and among them were an array of perspectives and opinions which did not reflect the whole which. Kotii could not hate his people for casting him out. His own ideals and morals were not shared by his kinsmen. The ex-solus'alor wondered if fighting for peace was a fool's errand. In the end he had come to the conclusion that he could only do good when and where he had the opportunity. That way he could at least die proud of his choices. Whether his family lived on Mandalore or some other backwater world did not matter to him. The where was inconsequential so long as they were safe, strong and happy. There was more than enough galaxy for them to live. But Kotii would not be worn down and broken by his enemies. Not as long as he still drew breath.

"Can you check yourself for a concussion with your bucket on?" He retorted when she implied she did not need his help. His tone then softened after the rhetorical question. "Do you follow the Way of the Mandalore?" Kotii referred to the religious sect of Mandalorians that never took off their helmet. It was their way of life to be the hunter and the hunted. In that regard, they weren't so different.

Over the course of a few minutes he was able to treat Song's wounds. Piece by piece he doffed her armor and exposed the flesh where she was injured. Normally a person would be confined to bed rest in a hospital for a week at least but Kotii knew Mandalorians were a different breed. Not to mention Song seemed particularly determined to tough it out regardless of any medical advice he gave her. They did not have the luxury of being idle for long.

The sounds of nature occasionally reached the quiet room after the Wren ceased her protests. The two Mandalorians were alone in the room, both hurt from one another and healing. At least until Song spoke up again, asking for him to unbind her. A pause hung in the air between them as he scrutinized her, followed by a deep breath and subsequent sigh.

Producing the key, he drew closer and unlocked her stun-cuffs. They clicked open, allowing her to remove them herself if she wanted to. He tried to think of something to say, to fill the awkward silence that filled between them. But it all came up to being pointless small talk, the likes of which would probably earn him a smart aleck comment. The badger returned to his side of the room and pulled out some rations to begin preparing their meal for the evening, no it was getting to be morning, or mid day perhaps.

"When was the last time you visited Krownest?" he finally asked in a slightly somber tone. She was a Wren so he assumed that was where she came from. It was where his own covert had resided until Darth Raze had come to Mandalore that day. No doubt the warrens and tunnels he had called home were now empty with his family leaving. That, or they had stayed their ground and been killed. The armored warrior balled his hand into a fist as his mind thought of the lost lives and confiscated beskar.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

“Are you trying to coax me into removing my helmet? Typical dar’manda.” With her cuffs taken off, Song rubbed at her wrists and, in the exact opposite of what she’d just said—carefully reached around her helmet. “You’re not wrong, though.” Then, she lifted the heavy shell of beskar to reveal her face.

Pale skin. Dark eyes. A long, coal-black ponytail. The air was stale as she shook in a deep breath, and her gaze scanned the room once more, as if expecting to find some new detail her magnifiers already hadn’t. She pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. For some reason, Song felt uneasy, her nerves jangling, knowing that she was showing her face off for the world to see. For someone like Kotii to see.

She shook the thoughts aside. It wasn’t the first time she’d removed her helmet in the presence of a Mandalorian, let alone an exile. She was not afraid to show who she truly was. “I suspect you follow the Way, like most of your former Solus brothers?” she asked, then after looking him up and down, added, “Not that I care whether you do or don’t.”

A small lie. A tiny part of her wondered just what might be hiding beneath that helmet, with its smattering of black and blood-red paint: a scarred old man, or a boy-faced warrior, or a corpse with sickly white skin. She had no idea. For all she knew, nobody had any idea, only those closest to him—if he had anyone close to him. But he probably did. He seemed soft-hearted enough to have fallen for some Rim outsider with more pearly teeth than brain cells. Again, not that she cared. Of course not.

She cracked her neck, moving onto his next question. “It’s been six months since I last visited Krownest, I think, but it feels like an eternity.” She sighed, reminiscing of the old days again, thinking of her homeworld's white mountains and snow-capped peaks. “Crusading for Mandalore takes a surprising amount of work, although I doubt you or your allies could possibly understand—given you chose to run and hide instead.”

Song knew she was being too harsh, especially after he’d done her the courtesy of removing her cuffs, but she didn’t want him to start thinking they were friends, now. They were just partners. Temporary, reluctant companions.

“You must take a lot of comfort knowing that my father hasn’t yet found any of your old friends among Clan Wren,” she added dryly. “I know Minerva has been missing for sometime. Is she out there… working with you?” The look on her face was cold and searching, but there was a thread of genuine curiosity in her voice. The want for answers. Truly, she and Lady Fhirdiad had been good friends, and her absence had left Song deeply anxious, and worse after Kotii’s exile.

She almost hoped Minerva was still with him. At least there, she was safe. Alive.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Kotii expected her to react the way she did. But Song still removed her helmet. The Echani offshoot turned away, keeping her in his peripheral vision but not looking directly at her as she did so. Kotii wanted to be considerate of her beliefs since he understood the reasons behind The Way even if the creed had evolved to be upheld to an almost unnecessary zeal.

When she asked if he followed the Way he did not answer with words. Instead his black gloved hands would reach up to the seals on his helmet and disengage them before lifting his scatterweave coated helm from his head.

Song was not an aruetii and if anyone deserved to know what he looked like, it was a fellow Mandalorian. Underneath the helmet he considered his second face, Kotii revealed a strong jawline masked by a second face covering, not unlike a medical mask which he would pull to the side and out of the way. Criss crossed scars down the right side of his brow and across the bridge of his nose marred a once handsome face with an Echani complexion. Above them were a pair of crimson irises that slowly panned over to meet the Wren's gaze. His pale skin was only a slightly pink hue thanks to the contrasting stark white hair cut short and made slightly a mess from being underneath a helmet for so long. His left hand came up to run through his sweaty hair to try and make it somewhat presentable and cool off in the stuffy interior of the room.

"No. But I can respect the reasons behind following such a creed." He replied and finally looked across the room at Song. The two of them would need to eat and drink at some point. Rather than try to sneak bits of food when the other wasn't looking it seemed sensible to show her his true face.

Many times he had gone without his helmet or mask in certain situations. But the ex Solus'alor had allowed others to assume he followed the Way and many likely still believed him to be a descendant of Death Watch. But that sect of Mandalorians did not properly align with his beliefs either. Thus he was a black sheep even among outcasts and extremists. Mysha was a follower in the Way, or used to be. But she too had shown her face to him, forsaking her belief for the ones she care about. He wondered if she would approve his actions.

His knee jerk reaction was to complimented the Wren, not sure what else to say in the moment but instead scratched the beginning of stubble at the back of his jaw. Maybe it would have sounded like he was fishing for a compliment himself. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck before cracking a few joints. Song answered his question about Krownest, keeping him from pondering other troubling thoughts or saying anything he would regret.

"It's still ours then..." He murmured about their homeworld. It sounded like the Sith had not come to lay waste to it like they had Mandalore.

Clearing his throat , the exposed badger posed another question. At the same time he also realized he had not properly learned Song's name and defaulted to calling her by her clan name. "Help me understand, Wren. Are you happy, as a crusader?" Moving across the galaxy in a vast and mighty army felt empowering. "What about after your done?" The worlds crushed and the defenders stamped out, few Mandalorians gave a moments consideration for any lives other than Mandalorians. Even those that had joined Kotii wanted to conquer and rule without involvement of the Sith or other parties. But Kotii knew that achieving such a feat was unrealistic. There was still nobility in living a humble life that did not require the subjugation of entire cultures. But he wanted to hear and genuinely understand why so many had chosen to follow Fenyang and in turn Nox. It spoke of a larger issue among Mandalorians that he wanted to resolve.

His head cocked to the side when she spoke about her father. Kotii's expression tried its best to remain neutral and non-judgemental. The Wren clan had resisted the Galactic Empire and Sabine had even earned the Dark Saber at one point if rumors were to be believed. It was crushing to think of so many others choosing to hunt down the ones they once called family because of their chosen methods of survival. "I do. They're alive, I think. They wouldn't give up without a fight. I don't know where they all are. But I hope to find out, eventually." The edges of his mouth quirked into the hints of smile as he thought about them even if they were scattered to the four winds. His eyes came into focus again and studied Song's face, wondering how she would react to hearing his belief in her kin being alive.

His hands would produce a canteen from his belt and bring it over to her along with a pack of dry rations. They were nothing fancy and almost entirely lacked any taste or smell. It was intentional, to prevent any additional trail that might help hunting dogs or the like from finding him. But all the same, Kotii would share them with Song while they had this relative moment of respite.


@Song

 

[Song Wren]

So, he was neither a boy nor an old man, but she wasn’t wrong about his almost sickly complexion. Noticeably Echani, his skin was like porcelain, with grave-white hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He was crushingly handsome—a fact Song pretended to ignore as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling—but it wasn’t that, or any one of his features, that caught her attention first. It was his red eyes and the criss-crossing scars over the one on his right. She found it strangely fascinating, and struggled not to stare.

She ignored his mention of ‘ours,’ as if Krownest was still his home. She was tempted to throw another jab at him and dispel his feelings of nostalgia, but she thought better of it. Her cousin, Rand, had been exiled from Clan Wren before she brought him back into the fold, and she knew how much he’d missed their mountains. She understood how much it meant to them.

“I’m content,” Song told him. “I don’t need to be happy, as long as I’m serving my family and fulfilling my duty as a Mandalorian.” She hesitated. Truthfully, she wasn’t always happy being far from home, especially when her corrupt father sat on the count’s seat, or when her fellow Mandalorians rampaged on innocent worlds, but there were plenty of positives. “There’s good in what we do. I’ll admit, Lothal was a mistake, and what Fenyang did there was… wrong. But the new Mand’alor is different. Better. Open to negotiation and to keeping the peace.”

One of her latest missions came to mind. “Like Horuz,” she said. “That world was plagued by in-fighting, and it was thanks to our efforts that prevented an all-out civil war. We didn’t tear down their government and seize everything. We worked with them, and even now, we continue working with them. Mysha Kelborn intends to serve on their council, and knowing her, she’s no tyrant.” She shrugged. “That’s what happens after. We plow the field, then we tend to it.”

“Just because the Sith came to us first, doesn’t make us like them. And believe me, I am not a friend of the Sith.” She dusted her hands and grabbed her sword from the hoversled. With an old rag she’d found on the table, she began to slowly clean it of dirt and dried blood, returning it to its usual, silvery shine.

“What about you, Solus?” she asked, reflecting back to his earlier question. “Are you happy living like this? Like an exile?” She gestured pointedly to the room: the overturned shelves, peeling walls and smudged windows. “I’m sure you have better hiding spots elsewhere, but what else is open to you? Tatooine, maybe? Doesn’t sound very cozy, and I say that from experience.”

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

The ex Solus'alor stared at her intently when she gave her answer. She had traces of uncertainty in her voice but whether she realized that or not waited to be seen. He resisted the urge to point it out or argue for fear of seeming combative. It was his desire to hear what she had to say.

His eyes narrowed for a moment as Song mentioned his lover's name. The Armorer was the only person aside from his own son whom he cared for the most. It was news to him that she was taking a position of leadership on Horuz. But the two had been busy and separated from one another lately. Still, he trusted her and her decisions. Just as quickly as the expression had come it left his face.

"You sound like you are trying convince yourself just as much as you are trying to convince me. Fenyang was one man. His mistakes don't erase the wrongs those that followed him perpetrated, nor those that refuse to prevent the same from happening again. We are all of us responsible." His jaw clenched at the end of that sentence as heat rose to the tips of his ears and along the back of his neck. His nostrils flared and he took in a deep breath to calm himself and lean back against the cool wall of the shared shelter. "I hope you're right about Nox. I do. But he has made choices that I can't accept..." His eyes dropped and his voice calmed during the confession. "...I don't know if I ever will be able to." Blindly following a Mand'alor just because someone bears that title wasn't a reason enough for him. Even with a legitimate claim, Kotii wasn't certain he would fall in line like some brainwashed stormtrooper.

He remained silent and mulled over a question but decided to save it for later. He instead took his canteen and drank from it, followed with an aggressive bite from the dry rations he offered. So what if another Lothal happens? I wonder what you will do then. Blindly obey and disgrace your ancestors in the name of duty? How far will each of you go until it's too far? Is there such a thing as long as you serve Mand'alor? The implication of the alternative was Song would labeled dar'manda like him. He was getting angry and he could not hold back his rage towards the insurmountable odds ahead of him. He was angry at his own weakness which was why he stayed quiet.

His jaw worked on the ration and his red irises rose to look at Song. "No." The half-Echani shook his head as a matter of fact. It almost made him want come back with a sassy response of his own. But instead he replied in a more serious manner, a hint of sadness coming forth as he spoke. "How can I be happy when I see my brothers and sisters marching toward their own demise blindly? I am at least proud of my choices and I don't have any regrets. My son will grow up healthy, strong and have a chance at happiness more than I ever did." He was more than just a man. He was also a father and he needed to set an example for his child.

The specifics did not matter much to him. The Way of the Mandalore shared similarities with his upbringing. Hiding his face to protect himself and others from being targeted, never taking off their armor to never be vulnerable and always being on the move had gotten them this far. But he still saw his child smile and find time to be a kid. Sure there were more comfortable ways to live, but those seemed trivial compared to the need for survival.

"There is something fundamentally wrong with our people. Independent thought combined with loyalty to one another used to be our strength. Now you sit across from me, having hunted me down at the behest of another, because I refused to obey a false Mand'alor given station by our sworn enemy. Tell me Wren, what is right about that? What's to stop it from happening to you or anyone else?" Maybe he had said too much but the Solus felt passionately about it. Kotii decided to finish his rations rather than continue. He was tired from the fighting but kept a wary eye on the polishing Wren.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

Song wasn’t lost to the sharp look he gave at the mention of Mysha. She had suspected the two had known each other before, but only ever as old friends. Mysha had always been the sympathetic type, that much had been obvious back on Horuz, and she wouldn’t have put it past her if she sympathized with a man like Kotii Solus. She knew many people loyal to the Mand’alor who were.

Thinking little more of it, Song chewed through her own rations, hiding her unease as Kotii spoke. She hated to admit he was right. Fenyang had been only one man, and while he’d murdered that defenseless mother live on the HoloNet, the warriors around him had stood there and said nothing. She’d done nothing, too, instead stewing alone on Krownest. She might’ve ignored Fenyang’s call to Lothal, but she hadn’t tried to stop or convince him about a new path, or questioned him about his relationship with the Sith. She just pretended it never existed.

Looking at Kotii now, at the haunted look in his eyes, she wanted to agree with him. She wanted to believe he had a point. But at his final words, she only felt the burn in his gaze— that harsh, red-hot truth—and she hated it.

Her face hardened. “Don’t lecture me about choice, Kotii Solus. Not when you chose to abandon Mandalore at the first sight of a Sith fleet.” She set the blade aside. “It could have been you we propped up instead of Fenyang. It could have been you who led the conquest of Lothal, who kept the others in line, and spared that child’s mother. But it wasn’t. Because you ran.”

She rose and pointed an accusing finger at him. “And you’re wrong about Nox. I’ve known him since before he’d replaced you as the Solus’alor, and he’s a good man. Strong. Honorable. Just because he chose to pretend to care about our pact with the Sith, doesn’t mean he trusts or respects them. Just because he expands our borders, doesn’t make him a tyrant or a monster. It makes him the Mand’alor, as our history and culture demands.”

She turned away from him, trying to bite back her frustration, but her voice rose at a fever pitch and she spun back. “What else would you have us do? Stop crusading? Return to bounty hunting? To the Syndicates? Or back into isolation? Before things changed, we were nobodies to them. We were a dying breed. Now, they respect us. They know to stay out of our way. Maybe if they had before, my brother would still be alive today.”

Song paused, realizing what she’d just said. For the first time, she looked almost afraid, but that expression quickly disappeared, replaced by a new resolve. “I wanted to believe you were still the Solus’alor Minerva told me about. I really did. I thought you were a badger when we fought, but all I see right now is a weasel.” She let that insult hang, only to immediately regret it. It was unfair—untrue, even—but it was too late. There was no taking it back.

A bang came from the barricaded door, then a snarl. Song bristled at the sound: an almost moaning keen, like a dead man’s croak. The Infected had heard her, and they'd come.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Abandon was a strong word for the Solus. One that he did not feel was appropriate. In his mind he had moved to fight the Sith on their own terms. But the point wasn't what he thought, it was how she felt. That was how many Solus clan members felt towards him. His shoulders sank slightly and his head tilted back at the accusation as if he had been struck by a physical blow in the chest. The badger would never have allowed himself to be 'propped up' as she put it and had every intention of fighting the Sith or those that committed the atrocities Fenyang led. He wanted justice for the Mandalorian people which was another reason his armor was the shade it was. His jaw clenched in anger when Song made it sound like he was no different than the ones he despised. But the alternative would have been suicide and condemned the life of others in the process.

Before he could get a word in and make it just more noise, she continued and pointed at him. He stared defiantly at her, wishing she could think about the families that did not have the same luxury as they did. The rest of the Wren's words were not lies. But he could not wholeheartedly believe her. Not when so many people had done the same as Nox and led to disappointment.

Perhaps most surprising was what came out as her personal vendetta. Song had lost her brother and she blamed Kotii for it. That silenced him from making any rebuttal. Her pause and his shock hung in the air for what seemed like minutes. His passion for their heated argument of views evaporated and was replaced by an expression of remorse. Kotii's eyes looked down, moving from side to side in contemplation as she added insult to injury. When she finished, his eyes rose again to look her in the face with the same fire as before. He did not let her insult to his pride get to him but was already thinking about the numerous more lives that would have been lost if he had made a different choice.

There was no chance for him to apologize about the loss of the Wren's brother because the undead made their presence known. It appeared the two Mandalorians had been loud enough to attract the attention. In one practiced motion he grabbed his helmet and donned it over his head without first putting on the black mask he normally wore underneath. "I'm not done with this discussion." He growled finally, letting her know he had more to say on the matter once they were out of there. But first they needed to deal with the infected on the other side of the door. It was probably for the best anyways considering how bull headed the two of them were getting.

"Are you ready to move?" He asked with a hint of consideration in his voice. Kotii would not open the door until Song was able to walk or run. Otherwise they would need to fight the clawing mass making their way into the building from the commotion. The stun affects on Song's leg and arm should have worn off by now and the bacta would be working. Song had enough energy to stand up and yell at him, and she had her family bes'kad as well. His left hand drew out his heavy blaster pistol and kept it pointed roughly in the direction of the door. But there could be a dozen or AMS infected on the far side of the obstruction. He looked towards the window and knew he could blast it, allowing the two of them to make an escape with his grapple launcher pistol. But another part of him felt motivated to work through some of the built up aggression. Not to mention a part of him felt tired of running and wanted to prove to the Wren he was a fighter even if his methods were different from hers.

@Song

 

[Song Wren]

“Neither am I,” Song replied, the anger in her voice not completely yet gone. The argument had ended prematurely, but honestly, a part of her was grateful it had. If the two of them had started a shouting match, it probably would have ended in another duel, and while close quarters combat favored her sword and acrobatics, there were still her own injuries to consider. Nothing good would have come from killing Kotii, anyway. As long as they were stranded on Tol Amn without a ship, they needed each other. In fact, right now they needed each other.

She sighed, throwing on her helmet first, and then donned on the rest of her armor. “I’m ready,” she said. Mostly. The gash on her shoulder stung, her fingers were shaky and there was a crook in her back like someone had sandsurfed down her spine, but she was otherwise alright. She had fought against worse odds with worse wounds. With Kotii to one side and her trusted sword on the other, she felt more than comfortable battling a few Infected.

Until the door cracked, of course.

Rotted wood splintered as a hand broke through. Another followed, and before long, she spotted the face of an Infected, molting, the skin almost peeled back enough to reveal flashes of bone. The creature shrieked and snapped its teeth at them. The door’s hinges began to whine against their assault, ready to snap, but Song answered one of the monster’s snarls with a hard jab of her sword. It cut between the Infected’s eyes like she’d simply dipped it into water—or blood, really, as dark liquid bubbled from the wound in their head. The creature fell back from the door.

Still, as one head was removed, two more took its place. In seconds, the only way into the room burst open and half a dozen Infected swarmed through. Song kept plenty of space for Kotii to work his own magic. Last thing she needed was for him to ‘accidentally’ shoot her a second time with that blaster of his. She might have decided not to kill him right now, but who knew if he thought the same after everything she’d told him? She didn’t trust him yet either, and as she slashed into the mob of Infected, Song kept a wary eye in his direction.

She was anything but paranoid. “Solus,” she called once she caught a glimpse of the hallway outside. More Infected were coming, and fighting their way downstairs seemed less and less likely. “Please tell me you still have a working jetpack—or a stash of rope.”

@Darasuum