[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Pjf0w6V.png[/img][/center] [right][b][color=goldenrod] Mand'alor's Tower // Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore[/color][/b][/right] [hr] The Mand’alor’s Tower stood at the center of Keldabe. It was the heart of the city, of the entire planet, and from it everything grew. A massive, ancient spire of stone and metal and glass that dwarfed everything else on the planet. A source of pride to natives and fear to outlanders. Its shadow stretched to the horizon in these moments before twilight. A seat of power for the entirety of the Mandalorian people, a symbol of their leader’s immense power. With the coming of night, celebrations intensified. Fireworks shot off at random into the darkness, lending bright and evanescent stars to the constellations passing east to west above. Drunken revelers formed impromptu feasts and parades in congested streets. There were fights. It was Mandalore, after all. Fights for honor, fights for wagers, fights for fun. Inside of the Mand’alor’s Tower was a different kind of fight. No blasters fired or punches thrown, at least not yet. Diplomats from around the galaxy, locked in verbal combat. They fought for influence, for mercy, for trade or for alliances. It was more vicious than any cantina brawl or battlefield melee. The immense stone doors to the dimly lit great hall swung open, and those close to the entrance turned to see this newcomer. Instead, there was a shadow. A loping beast on all fours with a sharp and narrow head, black fur and black eyes. If it were not for the brilliant bioluminescent quills on the creature’s spine, they might not have seen it at all by the brazier’s faint light. The congregation near the door grew hushed, some knowing what the arrival of this strange form meant, others simply baffled by the beast’s appearance. “Lady Ellia Errant, of the Corellian Hegemony,” The herald announced. Ellia strode into the lion’s den, not with any particular grace or elegance, but with confidence. A small smile on her lips as eyes fell upon her. She looked a far cry from the others in the dark chamber, all dressed in fine clothes or polished armor. She wore an unbuttoned fur-lined parka and dark pants bearing the Correlian bloodstripe tucked into with heavy shin-high boots, a decidedly casual fit for the occasion. Her clothes were coated in fine red and white powder. Ellia’s left cheek was freshly bruised and cut, as if struck by a gauntleted hand. She looked to the herald. [color=goldenrod]"I’m no lady. Just rich. Close though, right?”[/color] Ellia said as she patted her vulpine companion’s large head. Dasri, her four-legged shadow. Before the partygoers descended upon her, Ellia felt an arm loop into hers and tug her away from the limelight, with Dasri trotting close behind. “Where have you [i]been[/i]?” The harsh, whispering voice belonged to Green Jedi Bren Bastra, a nephew of Lord Jaster Erelen. Her escort for tonight, or the other way around if Hegemon Novar was to be believed. Correlia’s leader had assigned her this inauspicious task personally. [color=goldenrod]"Apologies, [i]your eminence[/i], I was held up at Crait. Pirates.”[/color] She pointed to her bruised cheek with a grin. A lie. “Crait?” [color=goldenrod]“Crait.”[/color] “And [i]why[/i] were you at Crait, pray tell?” [color=goldenrod]”Why do I go anywhere? For the sake of going.”[/color] Bren sighed. “Is that why you’re covered in… What is that, salt?” [color=goldenrod]“Salt [i]and[/i] rhodochrosite.”[/color] “Salt and rhodochrosite,” he muttered in disbelief. “You couldn’t have cleaned up?” Ellia shrugged. [color=goldenrod]"Did you want me here, or did you want me cleaned up? Besides, I know you don’t care for these Mandalorians, but [i]this[/i],”[/color] Ellia said, sweeping a hand over her dusty outfit, [color=goldenrod]"is far more interesting to them than [i]that[/i],”[/color] she nodded to his crisp, clean robes. Ellia knew the Mandalorians were a people of action, not words, who bore their deeds and battles proudly in the form of battle scars. Some dusty clothes weren't on the same level, but perhaps a step in the right direction, anyways. Bren sighed. “Fine, fine. But you owe me after this, leaving me with these… [i]People[/i],” Bren said, almost shivering in disgust. [color=goldenrod]"Of course, I owe you one, Bren. I’ll let you buy me a drink tonight. That seems fair, no?”[/color] Ellia looked up into his face through hooded eyes. Bren paused for a moment, mind churning. She knew what he was going to say before the words came spilling out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t catch me [i]dead[/i] at one of these cantinas. We'll have a nightcap at my quarters. The view is quite nice, actually. This city looks beautiful once you’re high enough to not see any of these barbarians.” Ellis giggled and hid her revulsion well. Bren wasn’t an unattractive man; quite the opposite, despite his many failings. But he was a Jedi. A particularly weak Green Jedi, but still a Jedi. [color=goldenrod]“And what will your wife say about this nightcap, [i]Lord[/i] Bastra?”[/color] He wasn’t the lord of anything. His uncle was. But Bren always smiled when she addressed him as such. “My wife. My [i]wife[/i] thinks whatever I tell her, the sow,” he scoffed. Ellia let out a laugh that didn’t sound forced in the slightest. [color=goldenrod]“Well, I'll see you tonight in your room, my lord.”[/color] Another lie. She would not see him tonight. Something else would come up. She’d make sure of it. [color=goldenrod]"Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to mingle. Believe it or not, but some of these Mandalorians actually [i]like[/i] me.”[/color] Ellia slid her arm out from Bren’s, giving him one last fleeting smile before striding towards a group of Mandalorians who’d been watching her anxiously, waiting to be recognized. [color=goldenrod]“Ori, Mav, I was hoping I’d see you here! I just got back from Crait; you’d love it there, whole aquatic world under the surface just waiting to be explored. They [i]do[/i] have a bit of a pirate problem in that sector, though I don’t think that’d be a problem for you two...”[/color] [hider=Six Hours Earlier] Drel Kibul walked down the dim corridor, Deathwatch jailer at his heels like some beskar shadow. The Sunrider and her crew had been planetside on Mandalore for a week now. They hadn’t heard from Ellia in over three days. He hated doing this. Looking for her. It was almost a ritual now, when they couldn’t find Ellia. First, he’d check the cantinas. Then the streets and alleyways. Next, brothels and spice dens. After that, he’d start to get worried. The hospitals. The jails. Morgues. The Devaronian had been a member of her crew since the beginning, and hadn’t ever found her in jail or the morgue. Yet. They passed rows and rows of cells, almost exclusively occupied by dour and drunk tourists sleeping off early morning benders. “And who is it you’re looking for, again?” The jailer asked, sounding bored. “That is no business of yours,” said Drel. “That is [i]exactly[/i] my business, friend.” Drel spotted a set tan and freckled arms hanging limply from between the cell bars. His pace quickened until he was before her. The smell of stale vomit hung in the air. Ellia looked a mess. Her whole body was slumped against the bars, head nearly wedged into a gap. A thin trail of drool hung from her open mouth. The woman’s fashionable clothes were torn and stained with blood and sick. Fresh bruises and abrasions covered her arms and hands. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Drel would have thought her dead. His hands tightened into fists. The Deveronian wanted to tear the little jailer in half. He could probably do it too, beskar and all. “What did you [i]do[/i] to her?” The jailer scoffed. “[i]We[/i] didn’t do anything. She did that to herself. Well, aside from the shiner on her cheek there. That was one of the arresting officers. Once we threw her in the cell, she really lost it. Started tearing everything up, throwing things. Nearly killed herself trying to break through those bars. CO just hit her with a tranquilizer so the mad dog wouldn’t break her own neck.” Drel stood in silence, looking down at Ellia. He’d seen her look worse, he knew, but really couldn’t remember when. “Do you have any idea of who this is?” “No, should I?” “No. And you should keep it that way.” Drel pressed a handful of credits into the jailer’s hand. Probably a month of his salary. “I’ll go unlock the cell door.” Drel nodded, staring down at Ellia. She’d always gotten herself into trouble, but it was getting worse lately. He watched the jailer make the long walk back to the control room. Something grab Drel's leg with a vice grip and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked down to see Ellia’s bruised and bloody hand digging into his calf. Her eyes, collared with ruined makeup and grime and deeply sunk, were now alight with terror. [color=goldenrod]”[i]Get. Me. Out.[/i]”[/color] [hr] Bright lights burned her eyes. She was in a white room. Sterile. Someone was looming over her, but she couldn’t tell who. She hurt all over. Her hands were cold. Her entire head pulsed with every breath as if it had a heartbeat of its own. [i]What happened?[/i] Ellia tried to form the words with her mouth, but it came out wrong. [color=goldenrod]”Wahpen?”[/color] “You tell me. You’re the one who got yourself into this mess. Drel carried you in here about an hour ago. What a sorry sight that was.” Ellia knew that voice. Dr. Creel, the Sunrider’s xenobiologist and doctor, when needed. So she was on the Sunrider. The medbay. Safe. Free. Ellia felt tension leave her body she didn’t even know was there. Ellia sat up slowly from her bed and looked around. Her hands were dunked in small vats of bacta. She must have hurt them something awful to get that treatment. The human doctor stood beside her, disappointed as ever. In one hand she held a syringe. [color=goldenrod]”What’s that for?”[/color] “Stimulant. Help you wake up from that little nap the Deathwatch thought you needed.” Without warning, Dr. Creel plunged the syringe into Ellia’s leg hard and fast. [color=goldenrod]"Ow! What’s that for?”[/color] Ellia repeated, rubbing the tender injection site. The grogginess wore off instantly, and in its place came waves of nausea. “For making me worry about you.” A crack in Creel’s grim facade. Ellia slumped back down and groaned as sensation returned to her heavy limbs, and with it, more pain. [color=goldenrod] “Listen, Creel, I know what this looks like, but trust me, it wasn’t my fault this time.”[/color] “I hate when you say that.” [color=goldenrod]“Say what?”[/color] “Trust me.” [color=goldenrod]”You say it too.”[/color] “I do. That’s how I know what those words are worth.” Ellia sat up, shaking out her legs. She felt like she’d been hit by a speeder. [color=goldenrod]”No, really! I was at this cantina, and I had [i]one[/i] drink before this Outer Rim [i]dumbass[/i] comes in, starts shooting the place up and shoving people around. Next thing you know, some Mando is taking a swing at me, everyone’s fighting, the Deathwatch are pulling up, and… You’re not buying this, are you?”[/color] The doctor shook her head. “Oh, hell, I don’t know, El. I guess I do. Everyone’s all riled up about this Founding thing. I just worry about you, is all.” [color=goldenrod]”I’m [i]fine[/i]! I’m fine. Trust me.”[/color] “There’s those words again.” Ellia sighed. She swirled her hands around in the bacta. They were already feeling better. “Let me have a look at your face, there, El. You’re pretty hardheaded, but not as hard as beskar.” Ellia pulled her hands from the vats and stood up. [color=goldenrod]”Sorry doc, no time. I’ve got places to be, you know how it is.”[/color] Dr. Creel scoffed. “I thought you’d skip that. You look like shit.” [color=goldenrod]”Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, I’m expected there. Got a hot date.”[/color] Her words dripped with sarcasm. “At least let me patch your face up. Don't want to meet the vaunted [i]Mand'alor[/i] with an open wound on your cheek,” Creel said, words dripping with sarcasm. The doctor had hardly any loyalty to her homeworld Corellia, but she had just enough to harbor some distain for Mandalore. [color=goldenrod]”Nahhh. It adds a little character. Hey, where’d Drel run off to? I thought he’d be here.”[/color] Drel always waited around for Ellia to come to after a night of debauchery or when some thug cold-cocked her at a cantina. Another ritual of his. Dr. Creel shook her head. “He left. Said he was going to the local observatory. Something about that Deveronian comet or whatever it was. You remember how obsessed he was with that for a while. He didn’t seem too happy with you.” [color=goldenrod]”Well, he’ll get over himself. Always does. Hey, thanks for the help doc, I appreciate it.”[/color] Ellia winked at the doctor as she made for the door. “You know I’d do anything for you El. Just try to stay safe. I can’t bring you back from the dead.” Ellia left the medbay and just made it to her quarters before she started hyperventilating. [/hider] Ellia stood on the balcony like a woman come to the end of something, starbursts of fireworks coppering her dark face and a cold wind blowing out of the west. She looked out at the city below and leaned on the sweeping balcony’s ledge. Ellia took a drag from her cigarette, watching the wisps of smoke drift into the wind. Thasero Konnar, the Sunrider’s eccentric linguist, hand-rolled them himself. Inside was a concoction he refused to share. His own “special blend,” probably harvested from a dozen different systems. Whatever they contained, Ellia couldn’t get enough of them. The smoke was sweet, almost floral. Her hands were shaking, and not from the cold. She could still feel her bruised palms pressed around the metal bars, the steel biting into her face. It was as though she’d be turned into some beast, caged and left to tear itself apart. And Ellia had. Just a taste of what she deserved, what she felt coming around the bend in every waking moment. Ellia braced herself against the stone railing as if to steady herself or to slow the world that was rushing around her. She watched as rockets exploded into ephemeral blossoms of light and sound below. They started to taper off, preparing for a grand finale. She watched speeders pass by. Ellia took another drag of her cigarette. She reached down and idly stroked Dasri’s soft head, and the four dark eyes looked into her face in response. Ellia saw in the strange vulpine being what she did not possess within herself. Honesty. Dasri wore no mask. He told no lies. His feelings and desires were shown plainly on the luminous quills that lined his back. Dasri allowed himself to feel everything fully. Ardenthearted. She envied this. Ellia knew she'd have to go back in soon, or they’d come looking for her. Despite being Corellian, she was a great favorite among some of the Mandalorians and the other diplomats. Perhaps because she [i]wasn’t[/i] a diplomat, something novel among their circles. The star power helped too, she theorized. For maybe the first time in her life though, Ellia [i]wanted[/i] to be alone.