"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
Lao Tzu
About half way through the afternoon, Drali shooed the males out of her kitchen. Everything that could be chopped, sliced, diced, stirred, and peeled had long since made its way into whatever dish it had been destined for from the beginning. Most everything for the evening's meal had been assembled. Pots were boiling gently on the stove; pans were sizzling gently with delicious bits of this and that; the double ovens were stuffed full of baking pans and casserole dishes. The table itself groaned gently underneath an array of yet more pans, pots, and dishes patiently awaiting their turn for either stove or oven. Several barrels of various alcoholic content were lined on a far wall and the whirl of bodies moving about the kitchen had settled into a quieter rhythm.
Rowin seemed a little miffed about being asked to leave the kitchen, but Cody was more than happy to finally take his leave. Fives, too, seemed pleased with the chance to finally change out of his sleeping clothes. As the bustle of activity in the kitchen had slowed down, the tone of the conversation had become decidedly more...female-friendly. Cody, for one, was happy to take the cue and leave his female compatriots to their private world. To be fair, as he and Fives left, Drali and Sheresh were pleasantly bickering over the best way to field dress one of Tor's horned beasts - but the conversation was most certainly from a Mandalorian and female point of view. The former commander was quite okay with admitting that maybe he had finally outstayed his welcome.
He and Fives walked down one of the halls of the vheh'yaim in companionable silence. Being thrown into unfamiliar territory and forced to work through it together, had eased some of the hostility and uncertainty between them. At the very least, Cody didn't feel awkward walking along beside his "younger" brother, as he had when running for safety through Cree'dee's shell-shocked streets.
Their casual pace through the vheh'yaim hallway lead them past several hide-covered doorways. As they passed one such doorway, the leather partition raised to reveal a bustling Kix. The medic jerked to a stop when he caught sight of his brothers over the top of the folded blankets he was carrying and his face lit up in a broad grin. Cody couldn't help but grin back himself - even Fives cracked a brief smile of wordless welcome. Before a conversation could be struck, however, another form - burdened down with a stack of sitting cushions - stepped out into the hallway after Kix. Orar's white hair was a dead give-away to his identity, even though half of his face was hidden by brightly colored fabric.
"Ah,I'm surprised Dra'buir didn't wring every possible drop of usefulness out of the two of you," the pale Mandalorian's words were rather dry, but his light-colored eyes were teasing.
He did, however, turn abruptly around so he could steady the stack of cushions against the hallway's sturdy patched canvas-and-wood wall. The Arkanian huffed a little under his breath as he lifted a knee to hold the cushions in place and tried to readjust his grip around the awkward bundle.
"Need some help?" Cody stepped up to the young man's side and held out a willing hand.
Orar glanced over his shoulder and eyed Cody thoughtfully from head to toe. There was something in his eyes, but discerning the unusual Mandalorian's mood was practically impossible. The youngest Kelborn's eyes lingered briefly on the bacta patches that peeked through Cody's half-opened flight suit.
"It can often be insulting to offer unsolicited aid to a Mandalorian," Orar spoke honestly and Cody could feel his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment. "However," the Arkanian's tone softened as soon as he noticed his guest's uncertainty. "You could help by grabbing more."
"This is the communal linens closet, basically," Kix piped up, noting the confusion on both Fives' and Cody's faces; the medic tilted his head toward the doorway next to them. "I think we're good on blankets, but we'll definitely need more pillows."
"Works for me," Fives moved immediately into action; he bumped shoulders with Cody as he passed the former commander and the ARC's brief grin was saucy.
Minutes later, Cody and Fives had been redirected from their original destination and were now following their hosts back past the kitchen toward the gathering room beyond. Cody was pleasantly surprised to find that the cushions were much lighter than they looked - which explained why Orar had been slightly aggrieved by his offer of help. The cushions were, however, rather awkward, stacked as they were rather haphazardly and not at all according to size or shape. Fives accidentally dropped his entire armload just steps away from the gathering room doorway, which prompted Kix to ask about his hand.
"Ah, it's okay," Fives rolled his naked shoulders as he knelt down to patiently stack the cushions up again.
"Were you chopping up vegetables with it in the kitchen?" Kix demanded wryly as he stopped just shy of the doorway and angled himself awkwardly in the hallway so he could look disapprovingly down on the kneeling ARC.
"A...little," Fives had the decency to look at least a little abashed and Cody could have kicked his own self in the arse.
He had forgotten all about his brother's injury. Fives hadn't done much chopping with his wounded hand, but he had done some lifting and had even helped Saa finish rolling a barrel of booze into one of the kitchen corners. Cody admitted as much to Kix, too - which earned him a bit of a dirty look from Fives that he pointedly ignored.
It wasn't the first time he had ratted one of his solders out to the medic when they had failed to take care of their own injuries. It also wouldn't be the last time - of that, Cody was quite sure.
"Fives, stop fiddling with those cushions and get your ass in there," Kix scowled and jerked his head toward the gathering room with the full force of his authority. "When I put these blankets down, you can help Orar drape them over the cushions. But so help me, if I see you - or hear about you - doing any sort of moderate labor with that hand before it's healed, I'll strap it down in a sling!"
Fives grabbed two cushions just to spite Kix and stalked moodily past the medic toward the waiting Arkanian. The ARC kept his chin high and his gaze defiant, but just the tiniest hint of color high on his ears gave him away. Cody glanced over at Kix and chuckled - Fives might not like either them too much at the moment, but he would thank them later. Better to baby his hand now and have use of it later, than to be a fighter with a bum trigger finger.
It fell to Cody to gather up Fives' pile of discarded cushions, after he had set his own down in the appropriate spot beside Kix's stack of blankets. After bringing in all of the errant seating arrangements, Cody hung uncertainly by the gathering room wall and watched Orar bustle industriously about. The Arkanian was so particular about how to set up the room, in fact, that it was wasn't long before Fives and Kix joined him on the sidelines.
"Is he always like this?" Cody murmured under his breath as Orar pondered a few cushions and then kicked them into each other.
"Like what?" Kix raised an eloquent eyebrow.
"Well...like..." Cody paused, at a momentary loss for words, and puffed out his cheeks thoughtfully.
He didn't want to offend the proud Mandalorian any further, but he had to admit that Orar - with his willowy stature and fine skin - didn't exactly match the mold of a "typical" Mandalorian male. Not that Cody was all that certain of what constituted a "typical Mandalorian male"...though the likes of Saa, Tor, and Sol were closer to his own personal expectation. In some ways, Sheresh was more "typical" than Orar, with all of his soft tones and physical delicacy.
"Well..." Cody realized that there really wasn't any "good" way to make his point, so he just shrugged and gave Kix a sheepish sort of look. "He's not really what I would have expected of a Mandalorian."
"Second that," Fives agreed sardonically, as he crossed his arms over his still-bare chest.
Kix was quiet for a few moments, as the three patiently watched Orar arrange the gathering room in preparation of the night's anticipated activities. Cody couldn't help thinking that the Arkanian was...well...nesting, for lack of a better term. It would have been funny even, if there wasn't a blaster on Orar's hip and a vibroblade in his boot.
Despite the weaponry, Cody had trouble trying to imagine the sinewy youth in Mandalorian armor - it was a curious image to resolve. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Kix chuckled softly and shook his shaved head.
"Orar's not really what anyone expects, I guess. But, then again, neither is Sol. Or even your Sheresh," the medic arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "There's as many different kinds of Mandalorians as there are members of any other culture in the galaxy. Not every Mandalorian is a fighter."
"It would be impossible for our culture to survive, if that were so," Orar startled all three clones by his abrupt entry into their conversation.
The Arkanian had apparently overheard them, as he walked around the curve of the rounded room toward their section of the wall. Cody felt his ears redden, but the young Mandalorian didn't seem at all offended by the suggestion that he wasn't what one would have expected in a culture of warriors. He knelt down next to Fives and carefully rearranged a blanket over several nearby cushions as he spoke.
"Actually, it would be more accurate to say that not every Mandalorian is a warrior. We are all fighters - we must all pass our own verd'goten in order to be welcomed into the clans. But, just as the jetii can be Knighted through the passage of different types of Trials, so an outsider can become one of the Mando'ad through a variety of verd'goten."
Orar paused and leaned back on his heels. His brows furrowed, deep in thought, as he carefully considered the weight of his next words. When he spoke, he didn't look up at his companions, but stared straight ahead, past the wall in front of him, into a memory he could only convey in words.
"Arkanian offshoots often have genetic abnormalities. I myself have a heart condition - it is difficult for me to keep up with the physical rigor demanded by many Mando'ad. By the standards of many, I am 'delicate' - to the most extreme of our culture, like the Death Watch, I am a disgrace to be eradicated.
"But thankfully, that is only the opinion of a choice few," Orar reached up and tucked an errant lock of hair behind his pointed ear; Cody realized, for the first time, that the Arkanian was the first Mandalorian male he had met with long hair. "Even in culture of warriors, there is a place for those like me - I have proved my worth by being light of foot and sharp of ear."
The Arkanian then stood to his feet and his smile was almost feral. His blue eyes flashed and Cody finally saw the edge beneath the young male's seeming softness. Orar was deceptive - a weapon of great power, in his own right.
"My verd'goten was mostly accidental - but that has been known to happen. After being rescued by Sol'buir, it was Bev'ba'vodu who realized that I have the gift of persuasion - much like your own Saa'buir, Cod'ika," Orar inclined his head toward the clone in question. "Toward the end of the Wars, I was sent to Coruscant on my own, to see if it would be possible to find a voice within the Senate for the Mandalorians. While Clan Kelborn has wished no ill-will toward Duchess Satine's faction on Mandalore, it has long been felt that she did not represent the Mandalorian people as a whole. With the loss of our Mandalore at the First Battle of Geonosis, there was a growing concern among many of the more moderate clans to find a voice that could be heard politically."
Orar's smile widened when he saw the shock etched on Cody's face; the Arkanian even chuckled and shook his head gently. Like Sheresh, he braided his hair, and the thick plait swayed gently in time with his movements.
"You will find that there are many factions within the Mando'ad, ner vod.The loudest in recent history, however, have been the Death Watch and the New Mandalorians. They were so loud, in fact, that many of us felt that perhaps it was time to do what we had never sought to do before - to speak in the Senate and play our own hand in aruetti politics. You see, the clans have been dying slowly - splintering in the loss of a Mandalor and struggling not to fall into the galactic fringe.
"What you see here," Orar turned and waved an expansive hand toward the gathering room. "Is rare, now, outside of Mandalorian worlds. There are Mandalorians scattered all over the galaxy, but since the tragedy of Galidraan, so many Mando'ad have become loners - forsaking clan and family, like the Fetts," the Arkanian's face twisted as he said the name and Cody realized that his progenitor - for having been Mandalor - hadn't been the most popular by virtue of his ill-fated choices. "Driven by greed and credits, instead of by a great culture that has withstood bravely in the face of all the ages.
"In retrospect, I'm not sure how we could have thought that making a voice for ourselves in the Senate would have made a difference. But, we were desperate for solidarity. Clans Kelborn, Par'jain, Jendri, Cadera, and Spar convened on Ordo - on the offer of Clan Ordo, who supported our cause - and selected me as a tentative representative for the Senate. I was to speak to certain Senators and find out if we would even be allowedto speak - if not, then it was my duty to convince the Senate to let the voice of potentially Republic-friendly Mando'ad be heard against the clamor of the New Mandalorians, the Death Watch, and the Separatists.
"Order 66 happened before any of this could be put into motion - I had managed to speak with Senator Amidala of Naboo and Senator Dur of the United Anobis Coalition and had gained their endorsement to address the Senate as a whole. But, when Coruscant erupted into chaos, I was by myself, just outside of the Senate building."
Orar's eyes had gone distant again and his hands clenched against his thighs. Cody leaned his back against the wall and listened intently - this was a side of Order 66 that he had never heard before.
"Order 66 was my verd'goten. I did not fight my way out of Coruscant. I talked my way off-planet and though I had arrived alone weeks before, I escaped the chaos with four. I found Rys, wounded, as he tried to defend two jetii younglings caught outside of the Temple grounds. I also saved a Mirialan smuggler, who was unjustly profiled because of his natural Force Sensitivity. I never once fired a blaster, I never once engaged another sentient in combat, I never once ran. It was my calm under pressure and my ability to save four separate lives - one of whom was Mandalorian by blood - that earned me the right to join the ranks of the Mando'ad.
"As such, as a Mandalorian, I am a diplomat. A politician. A scholar of moderation and intrigue. Some would call me a spy. Since Order 66, I have been to many planets, listening for the truth and learning much about the true nature of the Empire. I am rarely home and I am here now only because I came back from a place I cannot name, to bury my vod. Yes, I am delicate and it is true that I rarely wear my armor. But, I fight for the Mandalor, for my people, in my own way. Our new Mandalor - Fenn Shysa - has studied much in the ways of war. As we speak, he wages a war on Mandalore against the Empire and he knows that it is a war that cannot be won without spies. More specifically, without Mandalorian spies."
"I didn't realize the Mandalorians were so...complex," Cody murmured, awed by the story that Orar had shared.
While there many details that the Arkanian had clearly glossed over - especially about what exactly happened the night of Order 66 - it was clear that he was male of great passion and talent. It was also quite clear that, despite his seeming peculiarity when contrasted with the stereotypical Mandalorian, Orar had a definitive place among the culture that had claimed him.
"As with any culture, we are extremely complex. Over the millenia, the Mando'ad have discovered that while it is possible to create a culture consisting entirely of warriors, it is not possible to expect every warrior to fight the same way. We are a culture of mothers, spies, armorers, snipers, infantrymen, pilots, smugglers, bounty hunters, elders, younglings, brewers, story-tellers, doctors, merchants, scouts, and politicians. Any one of us, regardless of who we are, are capable of fighting for our culture - but not all of us do so with blasters blazing in military precision. We are a military force - the Mando'ad have always been such – but as you yourself know, no military can be entirely comprised of ground fighters. It takes many types and many talents to create a cohesive military force - and it is this aspect of our culture that we are trying so desperately to reclaim."
"Why is reclamation needed?" Fives tilted his head to the side in curiosity; he still had his arms folded over his chest, but Cody could tell, despite his judgmental stance, that his brother was genuinely interested in the turn of conversation.
"The Battle of Galidraan destroyed many of the Mandalorian clans - in a single battle, nearly half, if not more, of every major clan was killed. Some of the smaller clans were wiped out entirely. Our culture has struggled ever since then - especially since many Mandalorians began to feel that having families was irresponsible in a galaxy where whole clans could be wiped out so easily. Political backlash from the events of Galidraan - especially against the Jedi and the Republic - have colored much of our culture since then. Galidraan prompted extreme pacifism in some - leading to the rise of the New Mandalorians. It prompted extreme hatred in others - hence, the Death Watch.
"A rapid succession of Mandalors has come about as a result of the political divides. Jaster Mereel was killed by a leader of the Death Watch, which lead to Jango Fett's rise. Fett, however, was rather lacking in his role as Mandalor in the opinion of many, and his unexpected death at Geonosis created a void. A clone actually stepped up to fill his place - a rogue ARC named Spar - and he was Mandalor briefly during the Wars. But, his stance was with the Separatists, a decision influenced by a mistrust of the Republic. While Mandalorians as a whole have traditionally sided against the Republic, there have always been those clans who sought to support it. Ordo, Kelborn, Cadera and Par'jain have always been traditionally pro-Republic - mostly, because we have always managed to be in a unique position to observe the greater dishonor of the opposing sides.
"Interestingly enough, Clans Ordo, Kelborn, Cadera, and Par'jain have been the most 'traditional' in our adherence to the Resol'nareand our interpretations of what it means to be truly Mandalorian," Orar concluded thoughtfully as his eyes danced from Kix, to Cody, to Fives. "We seek to build our families, and through our families, our culture. History shows us that any force aligned with an 'Empire' has usually been tricked; the same could be said of many Separatist movements. We have flourished most when aligned with the Republic, as it is the Republic that usually leaves us alone to raise our families in peace. There will always be three kinds of Mandalorians, however - those who see the way of the Mando'ad as a path to military power, those who see the way of the Mando'ad as a path to fame and fortune, and those who see the way of the Mando'ad as a path to honor.
"You will also find," Orar's voice carried with it the complete conviction of a man who stood firm in the virtue of his beliefs. "That it is the Mando'ad who seek honor first above all else, who have the most room in their clans for those like Sol'buir, and Sher'ika, and me."
Cody pondered Orar's revelations as the late afternoon slowly gave way to early evening. He also started looking at the Mandalorians around him in a new light. Suddenly, it didn't seem quite so strange for Sheresh to march past him in the hallways with a bright smile, a beautiful face, and a noticeable limp in her step. He didn't think it quite so strange that a man in a powerchair could be one of the Cuy'val Dar - especially not when he was called outside to watch an impromptu shooting contest between Saa, Sol, Ferro, and Fives.
Saa, Ferro, and Fives jockeyed for their respective places. But Sol? Sol won every round with practiced ease, his familiarity with every weapon as natural to him as if they were all extensions of his own hands.
Orar's place as a diplomat was settled once and for all, when Cody saw the Arkanian talk his temperamental niece and nephew out of fighting over a toy. And, his place as a spy, when he swiped a whole keg out of the kitchen for 'pre-party tasting'. And as a politician, when he made a convincing case for allowing a visitor into the family celebration who was not normally associated with the Mando'ad.
The role and place of a Mandalorian suddenly seemed more open to individual interpretation - an interpretation that promised the hope of a new identity for any sentient, no matter his past, no matter her talents. It was comforting to Cody, to finally realize that Saa had truly meant what he had said all along - that the Resol'nare was open to a wide variety of translations and that no one ever again expected him to be a clone of someone else.
Before meeting the members of Clan Kelborn, before talking to Orar, Cody had feared in his heart of hearts that he was just trading one blind servitude for another. Perhaps that was why Saa hadn't rushed to adopt Cody just yet; as time unfolded, the former commander saw farther beneath the Mandalorian armor, into the customs of a more richly diverse culture than he would have ever guessed. He also began to understand why, perhaps, Mandalorians allowed certain reputations to precede them, without fighting the stereotypes that even he had so blindly believed.
Verd ori'shya beskar'gam. A warrior was, indeed, far more than his armor, but as Cody was beginning to find out, what lay beneath was almost always a closely guarded secret. To the Mandalorians who still followed the traditions of the Resol'nare,family was sacred. Vecuyan's gathering room was as close to a temple as any Mandalorian would get and it was a closely guarded inner sanctum.
Cody couldn't blame them - he had seen, first hand, what lay out there in the wider galaxy beyond. He had seen the evils of the Empire, the destruction of the Republic. He knew the toll that war, death, famine, and disease could take. He knew only too well that even warriors without a home, longed for some quiet place to protect, to cherish, to fight for.
This , he realized, was what the Mando'ad fought for - what they had always fought for. They fought for their way of life, for their families, for the moments of peace that they could steal between moments fraught with terror. Inside of the vheh'yaim, inside of the home, only those who had been selected to 'stand guard' for that day wore armor - others were allowed to rest, allowed to show their true bodies, allowed to show their faces. Even Kix and Ala wore weapons strapped to their thighs, but for their knives or blasters, most everyone moved freely in "civilian" attire. Inside the sanctuary of their wooden walls, they were allowed to simply be - free to enjoy the comfort of being safe, of being home .
He could also understand why there were so many Mandalorians who had chosen to forgo the more traditional lifestyle that he saw presented within the Kelborn's "Vecuyan." When he thought of building something similar with Tay - a home, with children and brothers - his heart felt heavy at the knowledge that, more than often, he and any brothers who lived with him, would be called to travel beyond the boundaries of their future lives. For there was the Empire - a constant threat to all of them. There was the Mandalor and his war. There was the need to make a living, to find some way of making the credits necessary to support a family.
This, Cody realized, as the sun began to set and everyone began to settle down in the gathering room, was the heart of the Mandalorian - always divided, always torn, between family and the duty to protect their way of life.
Cody also recognized the wisdom of Saa's seemingly inexhaustible patience. To be Mando'ad was an honor and a great responsibility. For as much as Cody wanted to belong to something greater than himself, he was also in no great rush to commit himself just yet.
There was still so much more to see, so much more to learn. There was a great decision ahead of him - of that he was certain. And, he was wasn't yet sure if having the heart of the Mando'ad was worth the many sacrifices of wearing the armor.
"I swear, I'm going to knock his teeth in," Fives' sour vow earned him an rather alarmed look by both Cody and Rowin, who were sitting on opposite sides of the ARC.
"Come again?" Cody asked blankly; he glanced down at the cup in his hand.
Cut off as he was from alcohol because of his former addiction, he had been making due through the night with generous amounts of home made shuura cider. This was his fourth cup of the sugary stuff and for a moment, he had to wonder if someone had accidentally spiked it, because Fives' abrupt commentary made absolutely no sense.
"Mr. Smooth-talking Smuggler over there," Fives jerked his chin toward the male in question, his lips pressing thinner in disapproval.
"What about him?" Cody glanced over at the Mirialan smuggler who Orar had introduced earlier as 'Kar'eth Kaarz'.
Kar'eth was apparently a bit of a novelty among the gathered Mando'ad. He was not Mandalorian – by blood or adoption – nor was he in any way interested in ever being Mandalorian. His only association to the clan was through Orar – Kar'eth was the smuggler the Arkanian had mentioned earlier to both Fives and Cody, as the one who had helped him get off of Coruscant after Order 66. As such, 'Kar' had earned an honorary place in Clan Kelborn's esteem, for having saved one of their own, having saved two younglings (it didn't seem to matter to anyone at all, that the younglings had been Jedi padawans), and having saved a clone. Now that Rys was Mando'ad, the debt was considered doubled – and since Kar had also been the one responsible for providing the means of bringing Sol's eldest son's body home, Orar's argument to allow the smuggler to participate in the family's celebration had not been a hard one to make.
Cody hadn't noticed anything particularly offensive about the smuggler, himself. In fact, the Mirialan was quite the life of the party. He had been bantering back and forth with Sol and Saa all night, had said at least one outrageous thing to make all of the females giggle behind a hand, and had narrowly missed losing half of his arm after being caught counting cards in a game of pazaak with Tor. All in all, he seemed to be fairly typical of any smuggler Cody had ever met before – cheeky, irreverent, larger-than-life, and calculatingly mischievous. His antics were generously overlooked and for that, Kar seemed more than willing to make his Mandalorian hosts laugh at his own expense (cheating on Tor notwithstanding).
"He's been hanging on Sheresh all night!" Fives' expression was thunderous.
"So?" Rowin piped up, his twangy accent even thicker now that he'd had several drinks himself. "Not like you're plannin' on burrowin' in her nest."
Cody looked over Fives' head and mouthed the words 'burrowing in her nest' with a mixture of amusement, disbelief, and genuine confusion. He wasn't certain, but Rowin's turn of phrase was quite possibly the worst euphemism he had ever heard – if, in fact, that was what it was. Cody wasn't quite sure.
"Yeah," Rowin returned Cody's look with one of his own that clearly stated his belief that the clone was a few spanners short of a hyperdrive. "Y'know…female rabbits make nests? Male rabbits go an'…y'know, never mind," the Lepi waved a paw dismissively at Cody with a long-suffering sigh. "Go practice makin' kits wi' yer Jedi a few more times. Maybe ya'll get it then."
"I don't recall practicing to make much of anything," Cody replied stiffly; Rowin shot him a rather sardonic sort of look.
"Did ya' use protection?"
Cody blinked for several times, stunned. However, Fives was completely disengaged from the conversation, so he couldn't be counted on as any sort of back-up and Rowin had a smug sort of look on his furry face that demanded some sort of response. Before Cody could think up a witty retort, the space-rabbit rolled his blue eyes and shook his floppy ears.
"Yer silence condemns ya'. Trust me," the Lepi turned his attention back to his beer-filled mug. "No protection? Ya"re askin' fer kits."
Cody had a sudden, and rather visceral, realization. What if Tay…
Before he could finish that thought, Fives snarled and shifted restlessly on his cushioned seat.
"I mean, look at the greasy nerf-herder! He's practically drooling down her cleavage!"
"And from where I'm sitting, she doesn't seem to mind," Cody glanced over at the cozy pair in question and rubbed the space between his eyes; Fives was seriously starting to get on his nerves, mostly because Cody couldn't figure his motives out at all. "Give it up, Fives. He's probably more fun to be around, anyway. You did try to kill her and she did shoot your hand. Or don't you remember that?"
Fives muttered something indistinct, but he flopped back against his cushion and focused his glare at the ceiling. Grateful for the reprieve, Cody turned his attention back toward the festivities in full swing all around him.
There was talking, laughing, eating, and drinking – all in copious and fast-paced amounts. In some ways, the last two hours had gone by in a whirl of bright colors and louder voices. From what he could gather, however, the excitement and activity was just the preliminary – none of the main dishes that he had helped prepare earlier had been served just yet, and he had been duly informed that 'the party doesn't really start until Sheresh brings out her kitar.' The half-Zeltron had laughed at that and had been quick to set the record straight: the party didn't start, until the new family finally graced them all with their presence.
No one had specified when that would be, however, except that the new family's arrival rested solely on the discretion of the mother. For the most part, no one seemed to be in a rush and the festivities unfolded at a pace that was both informal and natural. Cody, for his part, had enjoyed the chance to relax without any sort of impending urgency. He had also enjoyed sitting back and watching the dynamics of the varied sentients around him; the Kelborns made for generous, if raucous, hosts and a general sense of good humor prevailed over the gathering room.
"Huh. Don't look now, Fives, but Mr. Kissy-Face over there is going in for the kill," Rowin observed with seeming nonchalance and Cody fought the urge to reach over and box the Lepi on the ears.
As it was, he glared at the grinning mischief-maker's audacity; Fives practically shot up out of his seat. The ARC's eyes were blazing and his one good fist was already clenched for a preemptive strike.
"Cut back your thrusters, Fives," Saa's voice cut through the impending drama like the crack of a whip. "You'll wake the baby."
At the mention of 'baby', the whole roomed froze. (Cody noticed, with a stifled sigh, that Rowin hadn't been pulling on Fives' bizarre jealous streak without cause – Kar's face was inches away from Sheresh's now-turned cheek and the smuggler did indeed look like a male who had been interrupted in the pursuit of a kiss). Even Fives' indignation was arrested, however, as an unfamiliar female stepped slowly into the gathering with a tiny bundle clasped to her chest. An intimately familiar form followed, with a proud grin that light up the entirety of his face.
In that moment, as Cody looked into Rys' glowing face, he knew the truth – a Mandalorian's home and family was worth every sacrifice necessary to defend it.
A/N: Once again, many, many thanks to LongLiveTheClones, who Beta'ed this for me. :) *glomps LLTC*
I realize that I'm taking a lot of "liberties" with the Mandalorian culture, but I feel just a wee bit entitled to it for a few reasons. One, I've done a lot of research on them - I'm known in most of my Star Wars groups as the one resident Fandalorian that everyone not only tolerates, but also likes. I've had a lot of discussions about Mandalorian culture (and various interpretations of it) with my fellow Mandalorian Mercs and I've played Mand'alor on several RPG sites around the interwebs. I'm also writing about the Mandalorians from the perspective of a military veteran and as a military spouse. I'm as much for Mandalorian bad-assery as the next person...but I often feel that they are not really portrayed in a realistic light most of the time by us fans. So, that's one of the reasons why I've been spending so much time on this arc - this has been my little exploration into the "heart and soul" of the Mandalorians...which, as even Orar admits, would be different for nearly clan. You'd have your Skiratas...your Vaus...your Priests...your Viszlas...your Fetts... But I think there's just as much room for the Kelborns and the Par'jains, too. It's really all about how you look at them and how you as the writer might interpret the Resol'nare.
I'd be interested in hearing about what you, Dear Reader, think of my portrayal of the Mandalorians. I sort of feel like maybe I'm going on too much of a limb...but I just really don't think it would be realistic to expect every individual Mandalorian to be like Jango/Boba Fett, or every clan to be like Skirata...
Any ways! There's my soapbox for the day. And two updates in one day! Surely, I spoil you all. :-p
Love it? Like it? Hate it? Lemme know...!