Post by Bobbi on Sept 27, 2018 11:22:42 GMT -5
The business of Tou Nix was handled quickly, for something so sticky. It was met with some surprise, too. The five clan heads who'd arrived--Jegoth of Clan Ordis, Ibbrani of Clan Shevai, Meredot of Clan Looth'ura, Wi'iro of Clan Havar, and Ejian of Clan Sora--represented the children injured when the mismanaged bomb had destroyed a house in Keldabe. They'd expected to see Clan Tar represented, but Briem Tar had not been present.
Or invited, it seemed.
They were left with some of their assumptions tossed in the air about The Mechanic, and after he closed the meeting--by cornering Jegoth--he told them he required that they all remain. That was not part of the plan. He did not seek privacy when he asked Jegoth to recount the "fight" (Jegoth scoffed at the word) in the corridor, and Jegoth proved to be an efficiency-minded storyteller, with military square edges and zero embellishment. The Mechanic didn't know for sure, but Jegoth reported what he'd seen with such irreverent detail that he strongly suspected he was being told the truth.
It was a little eerie.
Jegoth didn't try to suggest that the confrontation was anything but Dorara's doing, didn't edit the fact that he thought that Nikolaus Buffton overreacted and that to call the thing a "fight" was an insult to fights, admitted openly he could see how there was a difference between someone going for the throat and someone throwing a punch, and conveyed directly that he wished it hadn't happened because it was the stupidest headache he'd had all week.
He also didn't edit out that Niko had called for Dorara's arrest, and that he thought that was completely ridiculous. <C>
Now: Nikolaus would get the comm, and so would Ja'eeth and Kel'dan. Sadhric was on his way to the central concourse near Kel'dan's office, and if they would kindly meet him there, he would be most obliged.
Others were getting the same message, but translated into an order. That would be Ti'ya, Kel'dan's secretary, the security forces of mixed Mandal and Hapan members, staff and officers from across the Aud.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth had gotten the call while attempting to douse her headache with a cup of hot herbal something or other that had a light spice to it in flavor. A quiet moment, between tasks, and a cup of something that wasn't really helping was where she had found herself after those two hours had passed. She was on her way, would be her response to the call. She had to cross the grounds from the commissary to get there, taking her steamy cup of liquid with her this time. She finished it along the way, and was left carrying the empty cup which she crushed and tossed into a compactor along her route.
Sadhric:
The concourse was dull grey duracrete, everything built sturdy and for speed, open enough for a few hundred to gather, boring enough that there were only a few reasons why they ever might, and of those few most them involved being under attack. It was open to the sky down the middle, and the sky was fiercely bright right then. The only differentiation along its length was a few steps here and there around choke points that had in some era been disguised as planters with running water.
Compared to the Fountain Palace, they were sad little things. Breaking up the duracrete tunnel-feel of the concourse, they were welcome.
Niko:
When the comm was received, Nikolaus was in the middle of another conversation with the head of a nation.. specifically the nation he was currently representing, who also happened to be his sister. She wasn't thrilled with the situation, and was currently letting him know exactly how unthrilled she was at that moment. He interrupted her--which of course only made it worse--to indicate the received message and the need to leave. The young Buffton male then proceeded to cut her off before she could reply, and start to make his way back to the central concourse, flanked by his two Hapan guards.
Ja’eeth:
Reaching the concourse, Ja'eeth took her path and jogged down a few steps between two planters, toward the center of the open space. Her knife had been replaced by a blaster, slung low against her right hip and stable enough to not shift when she moved, but to go with her actions. Her clothing was unchanged, as was the fact that she lacked any noticable insignia of rank or title. Aside from the blaster, and her still snapping headache, Ja'eeth was much the same as she had been those few hours before.
Sadhric:
Those in The Mechanic's entourage might not have been thrilled to be described as "The Mechanic's entourage." The five clan leaders and their subordinates arrived with him looking exactly like an entourage, but it was coincidence. He'd ordered them to accompany him.
They were known by many of those gathered. Dorara was there, flanking Jegoth. Knifing through the loose crowd, Sadhric ran a scattering of security agents off the steps around one of the centermost planters by bounding up onto them, skipping several, and then striding the length of the topmost, scanning the crowd for blond hair and a particular face.
It would only be after he'd spotted Nikolaus present that he would peer around and call out: "Ja'eeth Va'lor. Come here. Just there."
And he'd point to a spot at the foot of the steps that was not clear when he pointed, but quickly became so.
Niko:
The Buffton arrived just a couple minutes later, entering the concourse with the two guards in tow. He paused however as he heard Tlin call out, eyes first going to the man, then the direction he pointed, and finally a glance around at the entourage and wherever Ja'eeth may be.
Ja’eeth:
By the time that she got to the center of the concourse the crowd Sadhric had called had already gathered. Sight of The Mechanic was caught with him standing at the top of those steps, and getting closer she heard him call her name. With her right shoulder forward, her right hand resting against the blaster on her leg just to keep it from getting jostled, and to give her arm a sharper edge with which to cut through the crowd, she made her way forward until she reached that edge closest to where The Mand'alor stood with the clans behind him. Stepping away from the crowd, her right hand let her blaster be where it was, her steps taking her to stand where Sadhric had indicated. She was standing sideways, looking at him, and the group of clans behind him, while the other side of her profile was given to the gathered crowd of security officers and others he had called to the meeting.
Sadhric:
Sadhric, right then, didn't look much like a Mand'alor. He didn't look like much of anything. No copper plating, no coat. His Lenses were there, but faintest blue. He didn't even have the sidearm he'd worn earlier. His shirt was a tight, short-sleeved gaudy thing, shocking green and dark blue. Everything else was black. He wore gloves (why?). He sported dark marks at brow, lip, and cheekbone: remnants of his own tussle, with bacta working to make them all disappear.
They were visible enough to the Mandals, who knew well what the marks of fists on a face looked like while mending.
He stood in front of the planter, finding eyes and faces in the throng, letting them quiet because they felt he demanded that, rather than actually demanding it.
Then he breathed in slow and studied Ja'eeth. "I was told by Jegoth Ordis that you referred to my guest as a 'babe,' a child. Is that true?"
The Mechanic cleared his throat sharply. "In Basic, please, because my guest speaks Basic."
Ja’eeth:
The left corner of her lip curled slightly when The Mechanic added -In Basic-, her answer coming in the specified language nonetheless, "Yes, it's true."
Niko:
Nikolaus observed, silently.
Sadhric:
"Mm." Unconsciously, he mirrored Ja'eeth's expression, sealed mouth hooking to the right. He was seeking eyes again, and very still. Then he was alive again: "I see I've been remiss. I should have introduced Nikolaus Buffton to you."
He straightened up, releasing Ja'eeth from his focus for the moment, stepping back. "The fault is mine. I thought you'd know. Being warriors. Warriors said to value service, and family, and courage. Warriors legendary for judging no one on their attire, or their face, or their status, or their family name. But what's done is done. I'll introduce you to him now.
"While the rest of the galaxy was licking its wounds after the Praetorian War, Nikolaus Buffton took the reins of the NGO as its President. Whatever your opinions of the NGO--should you labor to attempt to have opinions--it was service of the highest order. Whatever your opinions of his motives--and I advise you to have a care with assumptions--he held the NGO together during a time of rare stability and prosperity. I know of not a single tale of Nikolaus Buffton, as President, failing to fight the fight."
He took a moment there before going on. "While your forces were promised to Maltez Buffton, to defend his flank and to wall out and distract Chiss interest, Nikolaus was serving again as Director of NavSec. He defended his sister, there, her family--his family--and her people against great odds. Successfully, too. I know of not a single tale of Nikolaus Buffton, as Director, failing to fight the fight.
"At great cost, too, because while you helped Maltez Buffton's forces to focus elsewhere, Nikolaus lost his sister and his position. Grieving, he still followed reason and mercy, even when it was reason and mercy in favor of those he did not particularly like. To no personal gain. I don't forget, even if others do. I saw.
"I remember.
"A babe, you said." Sadhric's voice had gone flat, droning and strange, a little off-key when he leveled a look on Ja'eeth and said: "A babe, soft as can be, wearer of nanosilk. While you lot were realizing that you'd been tricked and were being strangled by your own allies, that man went to the city-station of Haven. Property of his father. Inundated by dark and honorless wielders of the Force, not long before."
His eyes found Ja'eeth's again, and from bared teeth he suddenly shouted:
"DO YOU THINK HE WENT THERE TO FLEE A FIGHT?"
The words slapped around the cold duracrete concourse.
Ja’eeth:
Something was building as Sadhric spoke, and when the words broke against the duracrete around them, Ja'eeth's headache stretched from her forehead to her temples and around to the back of her head from both sides where it stabbed at the base of her skull. The Mechanic's voice, as it echoed, sounded ten thousand times louder in its shout. Her shoulders flinched, but it was a minute reaction, she stood still otherwise, letting the echo die before saying, "No, Mand'alore.," In as tight and crisp Basic as she could muster right then, giving him a loud, clear response. Ja'eeth did not look around, there was no squirreling to find an out. She took the waves of that vocal barrage and let it beat against her. There were no excuses.
Sadhric/Ordis:
This anger was a contained star. He had the tight, tense alertness of an animal raring for a fight. This anger was Sadhric Tlin's, which meant that it did not leave him shaking--just with the idea that it was there, a frenzied aura invisible but felt around him. It did not have his hands fists, but in some way he was more threatening without the outward show.
He just breathed.
Watched them.
With a nod, after the moment drew out, he addressed them as he had done at the start: "I was told that it was nothing, the little fight, there. That to even call it a 'slap fight' was too generous." He nodded again. "I suspect, on analysis, Nikolaus Buffton would agree. It doesn't actually matter. He doesn't have to earn your respect. He should have it. If you are what you say you are, he would have it. Already. Whatever you think of him, he'd have it. And if all that he's done is not enough to earn that respect, it shines the light on you--not him." He'd gotten very quiet, low again, flat-toned once more. "This zabrak, Dorara, assaulted my guest, in my house. I was informed of it. Nikolaus Buffton neither complained nor threatened. He did not request this; he did not know. Some of you act as if the concept of honor is your birthright alone. Hm. Dorara."
He found her in the crowd; he'd known where she was. She had not moved. "Your fate is in his hands. Woe to you if he is the babe you thought you were assaulting. If you're wise, you'll hope instead that he's the brave and merciful man I invited here."
The zabrak had at first stood stiffly; now she looked around. But Sadhric was the one on the steps; from where she stood, she could not see Nikolaus or his guards.
Niko:
"You are correct, Manda'lore," Nikolaus began speaking out, stepping forward towards an open area to be better seen and heard.. his guards following but at a distance. "On many things. Yes, what occurred was no fight. I would have welcomed, and returned, a thrown punch if that was necessary." He paused to glance around a moment before continuing. "The issue was the disrespect.. first by Dorara, then followed by Ja'eeth. I do not know your customs for punishment, but in my eyes a single night in the brig would be a sufficient reminder."
Ordis:
That got a reaction. It wasn't a 'murmuring,' but it wasn't quite what it seemed some of those gathered would have expected. Or perhaps it was truer to say that it was not what some of those gathered would have expected before they'd been called here.
Jegoth Ordis could be seen in the crowd looking to Dorara. He was her clan head, and the scale-faced old Ger stood with his arms folded, waiting for her to speak for herself.
The zabrak straightened to stand tall and came out as those between her and the cleared space parted. She licked her lips. Looked Nikolaus up and down. "Bite and bar," she counter-offered.
"With my apology," she added, as if she'd remembered that that might need to be explained. She did not seem to recall that 'bite and bar' might require it.
Ja’eeth:
A some point in everything that had been said by Sadhric, Ja'eeth had pulled herself into an upright posture, tall and rigid as far as her physical height would allow. Now, it was her time to remain quiet and watchful, to be listening. She had her attention on Sadhric, and then Dorara as much as she could see the Zabrak from the bottom of the steps, but when Niko spoke she found herself looking that way. Dorara's counter offer would have gotten a small amused smile from Ja'eeth if she hadn't still be standing where she was. As one of the crowd, she may have found amusement in that outwardly. There at the bottom of those steps, she kept it to herself and waited to see what Niko would do.
Ordis:
Things were very quiet all around. Only a few choice faces looked puzzled--faintly and not so faintly--by what Dorara had said. Hapan faces, mostly. Sadhric's face, too.
Niko:
Niko watched Dorara as she spoke, then glanced to Sadhric and paused to see if he would have a translation of that.
Ja’eeth:
Looking out into the crowd, the look on Niko's face was seen and read clearly. She took a moment, though, looking back Sadhric's way, up those stairs to the face of The Mechanic Mand'alore. His expression was much the same. Clearing her throat, she was looking back Niko's way, her head turn back toward the crowd careful because every turn caused the stabbing in her temples to rear up and become sharper for just the duration of the movement, "She offers you a swing at her, and then a drink -- on her."
Niko:
A nod of thanks was given to Ja'eeth before attention went to the Zabrak with another nod. "I accept your terms."
Ordis:
Dorara nodded and edged to the side until she was squared to Nikolaus in the heart of the widened clear space. The zabrak took a second to unfasten her collar, then rolled her shoulders, braced her feet, and met Niko's eyes with the stare of a warrior who had taken many a shot. She nodded, apparently ready to do this here and now.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth retained her rigid posture, but stood looking on, watching the crowd and Dorara as the Zabrak presented herself. She watched Niko to see what the Prince of Hapes would do.
Niko:
Watching as Dorara moved, Niko waited until she gave the nod indicating she was ready and returned her nod with one of his own. The Buffton shrugged off his suit jacket smoothly, letting it fall to the ground behind him as if it were of no consequence, and adopted an experienced Teras Kasi fighting stance. Most people tended to forget that beyond the young man's known history through the Galaxy, he was first and foremost trained from birth in both combat and academics by the best teachers his father's money could buy, and so he was no slouch in either a brawl or a debate. For this moment, he knew he was being closely watched by all those in attendance, and it would be expected of him not to hold back. Doing so, he knew, would be more an insult to both his opponent's honor and his own. Sadhric had shown him both honor and respect, and so he wished to do the same. The form was well practiced, his motions were fluid. His right arm wound back and then thrust forward and across, aiming to deliver a well-placed hook against the Zabrak's jawline.
Ordis:
All eyes indeed followed Nikolaus' every move. With practiced ease, they assessed him and the zabrak--practiced ease, and no small amount of bemusement. This was not quite what the Mandalorians and staff expected when they'd been summoned.
The zabrak didn't raise hands. She'd started to--just reflex--but with beskarlike solidity of purpose, she assumed a less defensive pose, as if she feared that reflex would take over and ruin this. Niko was right: this was as much about buffing a smudge to her own honor as it was to his. Far better for that than a night in the brig. She was not insensible to the fact that he did not have to accept her offer, and that helped, too, in her control.
He struck.
The sound was a lashing, heavy, curt sound. A snap. A lightning strike.
The zabrak's head snapped to the side with the force of it and she dropped on the duracrete with a far softer roll of sound than the strike had offered.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth's stance shifted as the Zabrak hit the ground. She turned, looking back up the steps to where Sadhric stood. The insult between Dorara and Niko had been cleared. She was watching the Mand'alore now. Would he be expecting the same from her? Nothing, at all, about the way she was standing would suggest that she had relaxed.
Niko:
In just moments after the hit landed and the woman hit the deck, Nikolaus was stepping forward and offering a hand back to help Dorara back to her feet. Once again, he wasn't sure on protocol, but it felt like the honorable thing to do. The hit cleared the insult, no further grudge was to be held. She had stood and taken the punch without flinching, and that had regained his respect.
Sadhric/Ordis:
Dorara shook her head fiercely to clear it, pressed up on her hands, blinking. For a moment she didn't notice the extended hand. Beyond her, Jegoth shook his head at Nikolaus, as others did, mutely telling him to let her rise on her own if she could.
When she did look up, it was with a deliberate slowness, ... and with a crooked smile that just barely curved her lips.
She clearly saw the hand.
She ignored it.
With care she dragged a foot in, got it under her, and rose with just a tiny wobble. "I still hate your suit," she said.
Sadhric, meanwhile, was focused on that scene, Ja'eeth forgotten for the moment.
Ja’eeth:
No flinch her way from The Manda'lore. Ja'eeth turned her attention back toward Dorara and Niko.
Niko:
The hand was removed when he caught the head shake from the others, a step taken back to give her room to rise. To her comment, Niko gave a slight grin. "Might be time to trade it back out for some armor."
Sadhric:
Mixed reactions to the mention of armor, but the crowd's still tension broke anyway. Suddenly there were murmurs, and nods, and motion.
Sadhric stayed where he was for a moment, reading across the mood, before jumping down from the top step to the level of the gathering.
They were all dismissed, if informally.
Dorara was working her jaw, light fingers gripping it as she flexed it side to side to check pain and breakage. Blood beaded at the corner of her mouth before she seemed to gather in and then lean to the side to spit onto the duracrete.
Ja’eeth:
The way she was standing meant that when Sadhric jumped down off the stop step he was standing almost nearly in front of her. A brief glance went his way before she made to turn, her goal to depart with the rest of those that had been gathered. That stabbing inside her skull had not faded, the movement of turning causing it to flare up as a reminder.
Before she moved away completely, though, there was a quiet moment where she'd say to Sadhric "We need to talk, at your convenience." All done in Mando'a.
Sadhric:
She got a nod in return; he'd heard. He was still intent upon the atmosphere as much as he was the individuals within it.
Niko:
The half-joke fell mostly flat, but Niko wasn't concerned. The tension broke, the incident was over. While Dorara adjusted her jaw, the Buffton turned and gathered his suit jacket up and stepped towards the Hapan guards to hand it off. "Take this back to the compound, and let the Queen know all is resolved." They took the coat, gave bows of their head, and turned to take their leave.
Or invited, it seemed.
They were left with some of their assumptions tossed in the air about The Mechanic, and after he closed the meeting--by cornering Jegoth--he told them he required that they all remain. That was not part of the plan. He did not seek privacy when he asked Jegoth to recount the "fight" (Jegoth scoffed at the word) in the corridor, and Jegoth proved to be an efficiency-minded storyteller, with military square edges and zero embellishment. The Mechanic didn't know for sure, but Jegoth reported what he'd seen with such irreverent detail that he strongly suspected he was being told the truth.
It was a little eerie.
Jegoth didn't try to suggest that the confrontation was anything but Dorara's doing, didn't edit the fact that he thought that Nikolaus Buffton overreacted and that to call the thing a "fight" was an insult to fights, admitted openly he could see how there was a difference between someone going for the throat and someone throwing a punch, and conveyed directly that he wished it hadn't happened because it was the stupidest headache he'd had all week.
He also didn't edit out that Niko had called for Dorara's arrest, and that he thought that was completely ridiculous. <C>
Now: Nikolaus would get the comm, and so would Ja'eeth and Kel'dan. Sadhric was on his way to the central concourse near Kel'dan's office, and if they would kindly meet him there, he would be most obliged.
Others were getting the same message, but translated into an order. That would be Ti'ya, Kel'dan's secretary, the security forces of mixed Mandal and Hapan members, staff and officers from across the Aud.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth had gotten the call while attempting to douse her headache with a cup of hot herbal something or other that had a light spice to it in flavor. A quiet moment, between tasks, and a cup of something that wasn't really helping was where she had found herself after those two hours had passed. She was on her way, would be her response to the call. She had to cross the grounds from the commissary to get there, taking her steamy cup of liquid with her this time. She finished it along the way, and was left carrying the empty cup which she crushed and tossed into a compactor along her route.
Sadhric:
The concourse was dull grey duracrete, everything built sturdy and for speed, open enough for a few hundred to gather, boring enough that there were only a few reasons why they ever might, and of those few most them involved being under attack. It was open to the sky down the middle, and the sky was fiercely bright right then. The only differentiation along its length was a few steps here and there around choke points that had in some era been disguised as planters with running water.
Compared to the Fountain Palace, they were sad little things. Breaking up the duracrete tunnel-feel of the concourse, they were welcome.
Niko:
When the comm was received, Nikolaus was in the middle of another conversation with the head of a nation.. specifically the nation he was currently representing, who also happened to be his sister. She wasn't thrilled with the situation, and was currently letting him know exactly how unthrilled she was at that moment. He interrupted her--which of course only made it worse--to indicate the received message and the need to leave. The young Buffton male then proceeded to cut her off before she could reply, and start to make his way back to the central concourse, flanked by his two Hapan guards.
Ja’eeth:
Reaching the concourse, Ja'eeth took her path and jogged down a few steps between two planters, toward the center of the open space. Her knife had been replaced by a blaster, slung low against her right hip and stable enough to not shift when she moved, but to go with her actions. Her clothing was unchanged, as was the fact that she lacked any noticable insignia of rank or title. Aside from the blaster, and her still snapping headache, Ja'eeth was much the same as she had been those few hours before.
Sadhric:
Those in The Mechanic's entourage might not have been thrilled to be described as "The Mechanic's entourage." The five clan leaders and their subordinates arrived with him looking exactly like an entourage, but it was coincidence. He'd ordered them to accompany him.
They were known by many of those gathered. Dorara was there, flanking Jegoth. Knifing through the loose crowd, Sadhric ran a scattering of security agents off the steps around one of the centermost planters by bounding up onto them, skipping several, and then striding the length of the topmost, scanning the crowd for blond hair and a particular face.
It would only be after he'd spotted Nikolaus present that he would peer around and call out: "Ja'eeth Va'lor. Come here. Just there."
And he'd point to a spot at the foot of the steps that was not clear when he pointed, but quickly became so.
Niko:
The Buffton arrived just a couple minutes later, entering the concourse with the two guards in tow. He paused however as he heard Tlin call out, eyes first going to the man, then the direction he pointed, and finally a glance around at the entourage and wherever Ja'eeth may be.
Ja’eeth:
By the time that she got to the center of the concourse the crowd Sadhric had called had already gathered. Sight of The Mechanic was caught with him standing at the top of those steps, and getting closer she heard him call her name. With her right shoulder forward, her right hand resting against the blaster on her leg just to keep it from getting jostled, and to give her arm a sharper edge with which to cut through the crowd, she made her way forward until she reached that edge closest to where The Mand'alor stood with the clans behind him. Stepping away from the crowd, her right hand let her blaster be where it was, her steps taking her to stand where Sadhric had indicated. She was standing sideways, looking at him, and the group of clans behind him, while the other side of her profile was given to the gathered crowd of security officers and others he had called to the meeting.
Sadhric:
Sadhric, right then, didn't look much like a Mand'alor. He didn't look like much of anything. No copper plating, no coat. His Lenses were there, but faintest blue. He didn't even have the sidearm he'd worn earlier. His shirt was a tight, short-sleeved gaudy thing, shocking green and dark blue. Everything else was black. He wore gloves (why?). He sported dark marks at brow, lip, and cheekbone: remnants of his own tussle, with bacta working to make them all disappear.
They were visible enough to the Mandals, who knew well what the marks of fists on a face looked like while mending.
He stood in front of the planter, finding eyes and faces in the throng, letting them quiet because they felt he demanded that, rather than actually demanding it.
Then he breathed in slow and studied Ja'eeth. "I was told by Jegoth Ordis that you referred to my guest as a 'babe,' a child. Is that true?"
The Mechanic cleared his throat sharply. "In Basic, please, because my guest speaks Basic."
Ja’eeth:
The left corner of her lip curled slightly when The Mechanic added -In Basic-, her answer coming in the specified language nonetheless, "Yes, it's true."
Niko:
Nikolaus observed, silently.
Sadhric:
"Mm." Unconsciously, he mirrored Ja'eeth's expression, sealed mouth hooking to the right. He was seeking eyes again, and very still. Then he was alive again: "I see I've been remiss. I should have introduced Nikolaus Buffton to you."
He straightened up, releasing Ja'eeth from his focus for the moment, stepping back. "The fault is mine. I thought you'd know. Being warriors. Warriors said to value service, and family, and courage. Warriors legendary for judging no one on their attire, or their face, or their status, or their family name. But what's done is done. I'll introduce you to him now.
"While the rest of the galaxy was licking its wounds after the Praetorian War, Nikolaus Buffton took the reins of the NGO as its President. Whatever your opinions of the NGO--should you labor to attempt to have opinions--it was service of the highest order. Whatever your opinions of his motives--and I advise you to have a care with assumptions--he held the NGO together during a time of rare stability and prosperity. I know of not a single tale of Nikolaus Buffton, as President, failing to fight the fight."
He took a moment there before going on. "While your forces were promised to Maltez Buffton, to defend his flank and to wall out and distract Chiss interest, Nikolaus was serving again as Director of NavSec. He defended his sister, there, her family--his family--and her people against great odds. Successfully, too. I know of not a single tale of Nikolaus Buffton, as Director, failing to fight the fight.
"At great cost, too, because while you helped Maltez Buffton's forces to focus elsewhere, Nikolaus lost his sister and his position. Grieving, he still followed reason and mercy, even when it was reason and mercy in favor of those he did not particularly like. To no personal gain. I don't forget, even if others do. I saw.
"I remember.
"A babe, you said." Sadhric's voice had gone flat, droning and strange, a little off-key when he leveled a look on Ja'eeth and said: "A babe, soft as can be, wearer of nanosilk. While you lot were realizing that you'd been tricked and were being strangled by your own allies, that man went to the city-station of Haven. Property of his father. Inundated by dark and honorless wielders of the Force, not long before."
His eyes found Ja'eeth's again, and from bared teeth he suddenly shouted:
"DO YOU THINK HE WENT THERE TO FLEE A FIGHT?"
The words slapped around the cold duracrete concourse.
Ja’eeth:
Something was building as Sadhric spoke, and when the words broke against the duracrete around them, Ja'eeth's headache stretched from her forehead to her temples and around to the back of her head from both sides where it stabbed at the base of her skull. The Mechanic's voice, as it echoed, sounded ten thousand times louder in its shout. Her shoulders flinched, but it was a minute reaction, she stood still otherwise, letting the echo die before saying, "No, Mand'alore.," In as tight and crisp Basic as she could muster right then, giving him a loud, clear response. Ja'eeth did not look around, there was no squirreling to find an out. She took the waves of that vocal barrage and let it beat against her. There were no excuses.
Sadhric/Ordis:
This anger was a contained star. He had the tight, tense alertness of an animal raring for a fight. This anger was Sadhric Tlin's, which meant that it did not leave him shaking--just with the idea that it was there, a frenzied aura invisible but felt around him. It did not have his hands fists, but in some way he was more threatening without the outward show.
He just breathed.
Watched them.
With a nod, after the moment drew out, he addressed them as he had done at the start: "I was told that it was nothing, the little fight, there. That to even call it a 'slap fight' was too generous." He nodded again. "I suspect, on analysis, Nikolaus Buffton would agree. It doesn't actually matter. He doesn't have to earn your respect. He should have it. If you are what you say you are, he would have it. Already. Whatever you think of him, he'd have it. And if all that he's done is not enough to earn that respect, it shines the light on you--not him." He'd gotten very quiet, low again, flat-toned once more. "This zabrak, Dorara, assaulted my guest, in my house. I was informed of it. Nikolaus Buffton neither complained nor threatened. He did not request this; he did not know. Some of you act as if the concept of honor is your birthright alone. Hm. Dorara."
He found her in the crowd; he'd known where she was. She had not moved. "Your fate is in his hands. Woe to you if he is the babe you thought you were assaulting. If you're wise, you'll hope instead that he's the brave and merciful man I invited here."
The zabrak had at first stood stiffly; now she looked around. But Sadhric was the one on the steps; from where she stood, she could not see Nikolaus or his guards.
Niko:
"You are correct, Manda'lore," Nikolaus began speaking out, stepping forward towards an open area to be better seen and heard.. his guards following but at a distance. "On many things. Yes, what occurred was no fight. I would have welcomed, and returned, a thrown punch if that was necessary." He paused to glance around a moment before continuing. "The issue was the disrespect.. first by Dorara, then followed by Ja'eeth. I do not know your customs for punishment, but in my eyes a single night in the brig would be a sufficient reminder."
Ordis:
That got a reaction. It wasn't a 'murmuring,' but it wasn't quite what it seemed some of those gathered would have expected. Or perhaps it was truer to say that it was not what some of those gathered would have expected before they'd been called here.
Jegoth Ordis could be seen in the crowd looking to Dorara. He was her clan head, and the scale-faced old Ger stood with his arms folded, waiting for her to speak for herself.
The zabrak straightened to stand tall and came out as those between her and the cleared space parted. She licked her lips. Looked Nikolaus up and down. "Bite and bar," she counter-offered.
"With my apology," she added, as if she'd remembered that that might need to be explained. She did not seem to recall that 'bite and bar' might require it.
Ja’eeth:
A some point in everything that had been said by Sadhric, Ja'eeth had pulled herself into an upright posture, tall and rigid as far as her physical height would allow. Now, it was her time to remain quiet and watchful, to be listening. She had her attention on Sadhric, and then Dorara as much as she could see the Zabrak from the bottom of the steps, but when Niko spoke she found herself looking that way. Dorara's counter offer would have gotten a small amused smile from Ja'eeth if she hadn't still be standing where she was. As one of the crowd, she may have found amusement in that outwardly. There at the bottom of those steps, she kept it to herself and waited to see what Niko would do.
Ordis:
Things were very quiet all around. Only a few choice faces looked puzzled--faintly and not so faintly--by what Dorara had said. Hapan faces, mostly. Sadhric's face, too.
Niko:
Niko watched Dorara as she spoke, then glanced to Sadhric and paused to see if he would have a translation of that.
Ja’eeth:
Looking out into the crowd, the look on Niko's face was seen and read clearly. She took a moment, though, looking back Sadhric's way, up those stairs to the face of The Mechanic Mand'alore. His expression was much the same. Clearing her throat, she was looking back Niko's way, her head turn back toward the crowd careful because every turn caused the stabbing in her temples to rear up and become sharper for just the duration of the movement, "She offers you a swing at her, and then a drink -- on her."
Niko:
A nod of thanks was given to Ja'eeth before attention went to the Zabrak with another nod. "I accept your terms."
Ordis:
Dorara nodded and edged to the side until she was squared to Nikolaus in the heart of the widened clear space. The zabrak took a second to unfasten her collar, then rolled her shoulders, braced her feet, and met Niko's eyes with the stare of a warrior who had taken many a shot. She nodded, apparently ready to do this here and now.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth retained her rigid posture, but stood looking on, watching the crowd and Dorara as the Zabrak presented herself. She watched Niko to see what the Prince of Hapes would do.
Niko:
Watching as Dorara moved, Niko waited until she gave the nod indicating she was ready and returned her nod with one of his own. The Buffton shrugged off his suit jacket smoothly, letting it fall to the ground behind him as if it were of no consequence, and adopted an experienced Teras Kasi fighting stance. Most people tended to forget that beyond the young man's known history through the Galaxy, he was first and foremost trained from birth in both combat and academics by the best teachers his father's money could buy, and so he was no slouch in either a brawl or a debate. For this moment, he knew he was being closely watched by all those in attendance, and it would be expected of him not to hold back. Doing so, he knew, would be more an insult to both his opponent's honor and his own. Sadhric had shown him both honor and respect, and so he wished to do the same. The form was well practiced, his motions were fluid. His right arm wound back and then thrust forward and across, aiming to deliver a well-placed hook against the Zabrak's jawline.
Ordis:
All eyes indeed followed Nikolaus' every move. With practiced ease, they assessed him and the zabrak--practiced ease, and no small amount of bemusement. This was not quite what the Mandalorians and staff expected when they'd been summoned.
The zabrak didn't raise hands. She'd started to--just reflex--but with beskarlike solidity of purpose, she assumed a less defensive pose, as if she feared that reflex would take over and ruin this. Niko was right: this was as much about buffing a smudge to her own honor as it was to his. Far better for that than a night in the brig. She was not insensible to the fact that he did not have to accept her offer, and that helped, too, in her control.
He struck.
The sound was a lashing, heavy, curt sound. A snap. A lightning strike.
The zabrak's head snapped to the side with the force of it and she dropped on the duracrete with a far softer roll of sound than the strike had offered.
Ja’eeth:
Ja'eeth's stance shifted as the Zabrak hit the ground. She turned, looking back up the steps to where Sadhric stood. The insult between Dorara and Niko had been cleared. She was watching the Mand'alore now. Would he be expecting the same from her? Nothing, at all, about the way she was standing would suggest that she had relaxed.
Niko:
In just moments after the hit landed and the woman hit the deck, Nikolaus was stepping forward and offering a hand back to help Dorara back to her feet. Once again, he wasn't sure on protocol, but it felt like the honorable thing to do. The hit cleared the insult, no further grudge was to be held. She had stood and taken the punch without flinching, and that had regained his respect.
Sadhric/Ordis:
Dorara shook her head fiercely to clear it, pressed up on her hands, blinking. For a moment she didn't notice the extended hand. Beyond her, Jegoth shook his head at Nikolaus, as others did, mutely telling him to let her rise on her own if she could.
When she did look up, it was with a deliberate slowness, ... and with a crooked smile that just barely curved her lips.
She clearly saw the hand.
She ignored it.
With care she dragged a foot in, got it under her, and rose with just a tiny wobble. "I still hate your suit," she said.
Sadhric, meanwhile, was focused on that scene, Ja'eeth forgotten for the moment.
Ja’eeth:
No flinch her way from The Manda'lore. Ja'eeth turned her attention back toward Dorara and Niko.
Niko:
The hand was removed when he caught the head shake from the others, a step taken back to give her room to rise. To her comment, Niko gave a slight grin. "Might be time to trade it back out for some armor."
Sadhric:
Mixed reactions to the mention of armor, but the crowd's still tension broke anyway. Suddenly there were murmurs, and nods, and motion.
Sadhric stayed where he was for a moment, reading across the mood, before jumping down from the top step to the level of the gathering.
They were all dismissed, if informally.
Dorara was working her jaw, light fingers gripping it as she flexed it side to side to check pain and breakage. Blood beaded at the corner of her mouth before she seemed to gather in and then lean to the side to spit onto the duracrete.
Ja’eeth:
The way she was standing meant that when Sadhric jumped down off the stop step he was standing almost nearly in front of her. A brief glance went his way before she made to turn, her goal to depart with the rest of those that had been gathered. That stabbing inside her skull had not faded, the movement of turning causing it to flare up as a reminder.
Before she moved away completely, though, there was a quiet moment where she'd say to Sadhric "We need to talk, at your convenience." All done in Mando'a.
Sadhric:
She got a nod in return; he'd heard. He was still intent upon the atmosphere as much as he was the individuals within it.
Niko:
The half-joke fell mostly flat, but Niko wasn't concerned. The tension broke, the incident was over. While Dorara adjusted her jaw, the Buffton turned and gathered his suit jacket up and stepped towards the Hapan guards to hand it off. "Take this back to the compound, and let the Queen know all is resolved." They took the coat, gave bows of their head, and turned to take their leave.
