Beads of sweat ran down Bril’s face. He stood in a bladed stance, his knees bent like spring-loaded pistons ready to propel him forward to begin another sequence of attacks and parries that were conservative in their energy use and deadly precise. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber pike–Fulcrum–tightly, Bril did just that. Each footfall carried him across the ground with such speed and grace that it bordered on the preternatural. A combination of talent and hard work had allowed the Zabrak to not just rise within the Brotherhood’s ranks at an unprecedented rate, but also to sharpen his skills in lightsaber combat and with the Force. The inexperienced, sloppy young man that was nearly mauled to death on Kenari seemed like a distant memory compared to who he was now–to what he was, now. Stepping in short, controlled movements while brandishing Fulcrum’s bleach-white blade against an imagined enemy, he began to tap into Vaapad, allowing himself to be absorbed in the Force while he trained. His actions were only partially his own, now, and it showed when he began to zip across the lawn of his small townhome.
Hearts beating rapidly in his chest barely registered in his conscious mind as he stared forward with a look in his eye that seemed both distant and supremely focused on his present undertaking. Bril knew there was always room to improve, to strengthen his skills and connection to the Force. How else would he protect his loved ones? He needed more. His first conflict, his first war, had culminated with no losses suffered by him or anyone else he knew. But this was only the first. The Children of Mortis had been defeated, but what about the Collective? Or some other enemy unknown to them? The Galaxy would always have dangers they needed to be prepared for.
He needed more.
A form in pink and rose gold hustled down the street, lithely dodging around slower walkers or groups of three taking up space, nearly dropping into a split at one point to slide under a tall figure’s legs. She heard them make a startled sound and popped back up, turning to wave at them with her free-ish gloved hand.
“Sorry, sorry, my besh!” Minnie called with an apologetic smile that was probably too happy to convey proper regret. But she was excited, and determinedly turned and kept jogging.
She was not letting their food get cold. And if it wasn’t hot as it had been served, it was already cold. That was just takeout lyfe. And much as Bril normally suffered it with her, she didn’t intend him to today.
The tiny Nautolan ran up the next street and slowed as she reached the familiar apartments building, styled like so many modern Selenian homes in Estle City were: flat faced and flat-roofed, colorful despite being sun bleached and hard washed stone or fired clay. Plants all over the place. Big jungle flowers. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t rundown either. The Arconans parcelled out good land to their chosen and her oathsworn.
Next to the apartments was a strip of tiny houses, not a far cry from condos, and between all those was a stretch of communal greenery and pebbles where tenants could walk their animals or play games. Her Kitty – not Fem Fem – often used the space to train in, going through his martial art forms or practicing some jediit thing in a meditation pose with his Zabraki incenses. In the middle of a work day, she spied him right away, near the back edge, the tiny park otherwise deserted.
- Yes! thought the Mandalorian in success, and darted over, keeping her footfalls flat and soft and placed to the grass as a speeder bustled by loudly, its engine humming. This was perfect. She’d worked hard to be able to call it an early day on the driving before her shift later, she’d made it to this new Zabraki – okie Zabraki fusion but it was gonna have to be close enough! – food truck that showed up recently before they left their lunch parking spot, and she’d managed to get this close without him noticing her. That or he was humoring her, given his senses, but just maybe it could be an actual surprise.
He always liked her other surprises. And he needed this one, lately. After the war. How he slept now. How he worried. Their talks. It was heartbreaking, watching him like she had so many new soldiers, learn just like she had. She’d never wanted him to have battle fatigue like her and so many.
But they were working on it, and he was here. Like he said. She needed to try believing in that.
Nearly halfway across the lawn, Minnow crept a bit closer while his back was still turned, then, deciding it was now or never, broke into a quicker jog as he spun about–
And three things happened at once:
Minnie exclaimed, “Hey, hot stuff!” just as Bril’s turnabout reached its halfway mark, revealing the glowing white beam of familiar, haunting plasma.
The speeder went far enough away that up close, the hum of that blade was no longer disguised, loud in the air, in her bones.
And the Zabrak’s feet and arms kept moving with his swing, two blades arcing towards her, a crackle dancing around his hands, stinking of ozone and raising every nerve on her skin alight.
Bril had been so locked in his training that he genuinely hadn’t noticed her–at least, not immediately. What began as a training exercise quickly mutated into something else. Something darker. His hearts quickened more than they should have, a gravity well formed deep in his stomach, and the specters of those … mindless aberrations of crystal and flesh materialized around him.
No. No.
He had to destroy them. He had to protect Minnow and Sivall–everyone whom he loved. He had to fight harder and bring the Force to heel more. They’d already suffered so much and yet, the Galaxy wanted to take more. Why did it never stop taking things from them? And why wasn’t he strong enough to stop it?
One final flourish of Fulcrum’s bleach-white blade ended the form he was performing, signed off with a guttural, primal roar that rumbled up from his chest that would give even the mighty rancor a reason to seek shelter. Streaks of bluish-white lightning danced along his fingers, briefly illuminating the sheen of sweat coating the skin.
A deep huff escaped his lips, marking the expulsion of the last of his adrenaline. Then, when he saw her there, staring at him like she’d seen a ghost, he felt his hearts drop to his feet.
“Minnie.”
He deactivated the saber and tugged it away into his shadowsheath in what appeared as a single motion, and stepped closer to her, reaching out to see if she was alright. But deep down, he knew she wasn’t. How could she be, after seeing him like that?
It was that small, extra extension of motion that unfroze the little Nautolan. She jerked back from the reaching hand with a startled half-scream, the carry-out containers under one arm tumbling in the haste with which her hands lifted to get her bracered forearms up in a block, her body pivoting into profile to make a smaller target, knees bending to ground her as she took three rapid steps back.
And on the third, with nothing but soft Selen grass and some sandstone gravel around them, tripped as her heel slipped into a small hole, the culprit of either a digging dog or a crack in the pavement or general wear and tear. With her twisting momentum still carrying her but her foot caught, she was suddenly juking sharply to the side and then falling, ankle bending at an angle.
The yelp that escaped her then was much softer than her fearful, defensive cry, but rawer and higher, laced with pain. She scrambled to draw her leg up towards her like a wounded animal, seafoam eyes wide and teary flashing up to Bril before the pale of panic melted away and shame flooded in its place, her skin flushing ruddy and splotchy, Mando'a curses falling from her lips while looked away from him sharply and she started to push herself back up.
Seeing how she instinctively snatched her body away from him, hearing the terror that laced the voice that he’d grown to love so dearly, made Bril’s world instantly shrink until only the two of them remained. The pain of his understanding that he’d given her reason to react to him with such a display of visceral revulsion paled in comparison to his desire, his need, to be by her side.
He needed to help.
And that burning need was only fed by the sight of his precious Nautolan falling … of her ankle twisting in a way it shouldn’t, and the pained cry that followed.
He was kneeling next to her in an instant, though he was careful not to move so quickly that she gave her more reason than she already possessed to fear him.
“My darling, I’m so sorry,” he began, tripping over his words as he scrambled to say something, anything to soothe her. Two hands, more hesitant than they were before, reached out to provide ginger touches to her arms, at first. Then, to lift her if she allowed it.
“I’ve got you.”