Ask A Meeting of Wrens

Brahe Sienar

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Brahe Sienar-Wren.

It was his full name, but to most people he was just Brahe Sienar. Both names had a significant meaning to them, but whereas one expanded his influence, the other was one to keep hidden as a means of safety. Clan Wren was as much a group of hunters as a group of hunted. There were many who sought to defeat mandalorians just to be able to claim the prized beskar armor from their lifeless corpses.

Since the Great Purge over a hundred years ago, the Mandalorians had become a scattered, nomadic people. Distrusting of force users, and in many cases outright hostile to them, most Mandalorians instead preferred a more secluded life. Many clung to the tenets of "the way", believing in the utmost importance of preserving Mandalore's warrior traditions and often becoming bounty hunters. Others forsook the creed entirely, choosing to live a life of peace and solitude.

Brahe's mother had chosen the latter, deciding to raise Brahe in a manner that might have been seen as unorthodox to the rest of the clan. While it was true that Brahe had been taught combat techniques from his mother, his father funding his formal education in starfighter engineering, the truth of the matter was that Brahe's childhood was devoid of any real trauma. He had received an excellent education, his parents were still together, despite being at philosophical odds, and he had never known true poverty, or what it meant to be a real Mandalorian in these trying times.

Perhaps it was intended- perhaps his mother simply sought a better life for him, as any concerned parent might. But what distaste the Clan held for Brahe's mother and her methods of raising her son, it was when Brahe joined the Jedi Order at the age of 13 that their distaste evolved into contempt. The Jedi were not to be trusted, and the Sith were no better.

______________________________________________

Krownest
Time: 2145
Brahe's TIE Hangar Bay

Not far from Brahe's home, there laid a moderately sized hangar bay. Shielded from the sheer cold and chilling winds of the night air outside, Brahe stood there, wearing his flight suit.

The hangar bay held a couple TIE variants- a TIE ranger seemed to be in the most operationally capable condition, and it was sitting in the center of the hangar bay. Parked along the sides were several other models in various states of repair- an old bomber, two TIE LNs, one of them an outland variant, and an interceptor were there with certain components missing or removed.

He had received word from his mother that cousin Song would be visiting, and although the Clan might have despised him and his mother, they were still family. To be honest, with how limited contact had been with the rest of the Clan, Brahe wasn't even really sure how many of them actually did hate him, were told to hate him, or perhaps didn't even actually hate him. What concerned him more was that this was a request made almost literally out of the blue. The one begrudging quality that the Clan accepted was that with Brahe's Sienar influence, he was a potential conduit for starships, weaponry, credits, and other equipment, if they could get him to influence his father's decisions.

He sighed, wishing his mom was here too, just in case this turned into an insult match, or worse- physical violence. But she had assured him that this particular contact was in dire straits. Helping her could be a way to make amends with the rest of the clan. Brahe crossed his arms and spoke first.

"My mom told me you'd be here...you already know the rest of the family doesn't like my mom and I....why ask for help now?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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Song hadn’t come back to Krownest to reconcile with her family. She especially did not return to make up with her father, Ghent. To her, he was no Mandalorian. He was no father. It was because of him she left her home on Clan Wren and decided to pursue the life of a bounty hunter, through the armor of her late brother River, and to track down the man responsible for killing him.

But she was in dire straits.

A botched job had left her ship trashed and in desperate need of repair. She hadn’t much credit to her name, and to have it fixed, she needed to reach out to a fellow Mandalorian, but it couldn’t be her father or the rest of the Clan. The shame would be too great.

She needed an outsider, and Song knew just who.

She landed her freighter, a smoking heap, onto the hangar platform and met with the young man waiting outside. He wore a former Imperial flight suit rather than a full set of Beskar, much to her initial shock, but remembered these were Wren outsiders she was dealing with. They were not warriors of tradition.

With her helmet still on, the voice modulator still set to a masculine pitch, Song approached the man and answered him plainly, “I know that.

The rest of the family doesn’t much like me either,” she said, honestly. With how isolated Brahe was, she doubted he knew what had transpired between Song and Clan Wren. “But I used to know your mother, and I was hoping you two could help me.

Song gestured to the ship behind her and the charred markings which traced around the metal plating. “I ran into some marauders on the road to Onderon trying to visit another clan. It was a miracle I even managed to get it back here, but I was hoping you could get it fixed up for me.

I don’t have much to give you,” said the Mandalorian. “But whatever it is you need, I can do. As long as it means I can fly again.

@Noctyr
 

Brahe Sienar

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Brahe bit his lower lip before responding.

"As much as everyone hates us, Clan Wren is still family..." he said, sighing in resignation.

"And just because you're family, I'll help you. That's all....even if you wear a silly helmet all the time and insist on sounding like a guy with it on, Song."

He smiled at her. It was fun to tease her about the armor, exactly because he knew just how much it meant to followers of "the way". To Brahe it honestly felt like having to wear the armor all the time was too strict an adherence to the Resol'nare. For Brahe, family loyalty was enough, but like his mother he didn't believe in pointless fighting. In that regard they were very much like Sabine- rebels who fought for a cause that wasn't in line with the views of the clan at large.

He walked around the perimeter of Song's ship, assessing the battle damage.

"Let's see here...."

He tapped the hull in a couple spots with a well controlled rap of his knuckles, noting the different sounds as he did so.

"Heh, you got chewed up pretty bad in a dogfight, huh? Looks like the hull's gonna need some serious patchwork. Unfortunately, your little cousin here doesn't exactly have the parts."

He pointed at the rest of the hangar bay. It was all TIE variants. Not a freighter in sight.

"I've got a bit of a specialty shop here. If my dad was here, he might be able to help, but unfortunately he's out on business on Kuat."

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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It’s tradition,” said Song. “Can’t help it.

Although the idea of tuning her voice into that of a man’s was not part of said tradition, it was in her eyes. She disguised her voice with a man’s not simply to hide her identity, but it was more to do with her pride. She didn’t want other men, bounty hunters and the like, underestimating or going easy on her because she was a woman.

She wanted to be seen as an equal.

But most of all, she wanted to be seen as her brother, River. She didn’t wear his armor, his helmet, all the time just to please her Mandalorian brothers. She did it to honor him. Song was never very religious, but for her brother, she’d do anything.

Song would only remove that helmet when his killer was put to the sword.

Not that she would ever explain it to Brahe, and instead, she wandered closely beside him around the ship. As he inspected the wrecked hull and spoke, a frown tugged her lips.

I see,” she said. “Any ideas then on where to get these... parts?

She eyed the missing pieces to her ship, one hand on her hip. Her blaster pistol sat attached to her waist. Locked and loaded.

Like I said, I’ll go where I have to.

@Noctyr
 

Brahe Sienar

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Brahe smiled and sighed.

"Always so serious....The way this, the way that....tell you what- you turn off that voice modulator, and talk to me with your real voice for once, and you don't have to worry about the parts, alright? I'll just go ahead and order them and explain what happened to my dad later when he comes home from that business trip, no big deal."

He pulled out a data pad, jotting down some notes on what kind of parts he'd need to order for her ship. His mom might not exactly be happy with the cost, but family was family, and it wasn't like they were hurting for money. Since the end of large scale galactic war, Sienar-Jaemus Fleet Systems hadn't made nearly as much money as they used to, but trillions of built star fighters and other ships in existing circulation tended to create a huge market for spare parts, and the company had successfully made the transition to doing more of that, rather than creating new designs. As a result, Brahe's father made more than enough money to cover the costs his family incurred.

Brahe's facial expression turned to one of longing reminiscence. He sat down on a shipping container that was just high enough that he could hang his legs over the side and kick them around. "I heard that back in the day, our ancestors took off their helmets all the time. People weren't as....up tight. You know our ancestor Sabine? She took that bucket off all the time! And look what kind of honor she brought to the clan!"

He smirked.

"But it's tradition, right?"

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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Song said nothing at his request.

Although she shared some reluctance in listening, unsure of whether or not to switch off her voice modulator, she eventually reached a hand up to underneath her helmet and with a click, disabled the scrambler. Though she said nothing, Song knew it was a small price to pay for the parts she and Brahe needed.

All he wanted her to do was listen, relax. Speak.

As Brahe settled down onto a storage crate, she moved opposite of him and leaned against another. She stared at him for a minute, trying to piece together the puzzle that was the Seinar boy. His words, his behavior, told her he was no Mandalorian. But underneath that skin and that generous demeanor, the blood of a Mandalorian did burn inside him.

She almost wondered what it’d take to see that side of him emerge.

Song tilted her head at what he said next, surprised. He was right. As a Wren, she knew all about the legendary Sabine. A female Mandalorian, an ancestral warrior, who led their people against the Empire. As a child, she heard stories about her. She wanted to be her.

You’re not wrong,” said Song, who paused a second at hearing her own voice, the first time in a long time. She only ever removed her helmet when alone, and she rarely spoke to herself, so hearing herself talk was both strange and… freeing.

I think it’s more than just tradition,” she said. “After the Great Purge, we were at our wit’s end. The Empire took everything from our people, and religion was all we had left. But, I’ll be honest, I do this more than just for Mandalorian tradition.

You know about my brother, don’t you?

@Noctyr
 

Brahe Sienar

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Brahe's eyes lit up when he heard Song's actual voice for once. But that changed a bit when heard what she had to say next.

Brahe furrowed his brow, solemn in remembrance at Song's mentioning of her brother. He didn't necessarily keep up with the news within the clan too often, but knowledge of a death was something that tended to get around rather easily due to it's significance. He had heard that Song's brother died on some kind of bounty hunting mission, but nothing more than that.

"I know he passed away.....that must've been rough....But apart from that, not much else..." He said in a solemn tone.

Brahe stood up, reaching into a nearby crate for what appeared to be a pair of cylindrical thermal containers, and then handed one of them to Song. He smiled again, sitting down a crate.

Pshhhhh~

A hissing noise not unlike opening a soda can rang through the air as Brahe opened his container, revealing a steaming, fresh, and hot serving of tiingilar, an intensely spicy stew that was common throughout Mandalorian culture.

"My mom made it for us ahead of time. Reminds you of childhood, huh?" He smiled, blowing on the stew to cool it off, before taking a couple sips. His face reddened a couple moments later.

"Whew! She must've changed the recipe! I don't remember it being this spicy!" He said, making a couple exaggerated exhales before reaching into yet another container and drawing out a bottle of blue milk. He cracked open the bottle rather hastily, gulping down a large quantity of the liquid in an attempt to reduce the burning sensation flooding his mouth.

With a satisfied exhale and a laugh, he sat back down.

"You should try it- it's really good stuff!"

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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I see,” she said, sharing the solemn tone he gave. “Then I’m sure you understand.

Her fingers rapped on the crate she was leaning on, anxious and eager to move on from the conversation. Talking about her brother, it made her feel like it was only yesterday that she saw the rest of the Clan haul his body in. His armor in tatters, covered in the markings of too many shots to count. He went out fighting. He died a warrior’s death.

Many nights, she wished he hadn’t died at all.

She looked back at Brahe to find he had popped open a can of soda and was handing another to her. She took it carefully, but set it down beside her. But it was the sweetest smell of tiingilar, a steaming meal which her mother had cooked her in her youth, that caught her interest. Song nearly doubled over. She hadn’t eaten tiingilar in years.

She hadn’t eaten anything since arriving on Krownest either.

Sometimes, Song she hadn’t switched out her helmet’s rebreather for the voice modulator, because the stew was almost irresistible.

Almost.

You know, if I knew better, I’d think you’d be trying to goad me into taking off my helmet,” she said, but gave a light chuckle to dispel any idea of insult or injury. “But I’m good, thank you. Not hungry.

She looked over to her ship, then back to Brahe. “How long do you think repairs might take?

@Noctyr
 

Brahe Sienar

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Brahe stood up, setting the container of stew down and putting the lid back on it's thermal container. He reached skyward with his arms and twisted his body a couple times, yawning as he stretched.

"Well, parts should take a week to get here, but once they're on hand, I can probably finish repairs in about 5 hours. But I suppose that means that for the next week here, you're stuck with me!"

He snickered again in a friendly, teasing manner.

He crouched down and then extended out one leg, stretching some more.


"Care for a sparring match? Haven't sparred ya in a while, cuz."

He smiled. It had indeed been one hell of a long time. Years even. The last time they sparred was probably when Brahe was like 12. Not that the clan approved, per se. Brahe's upbringing wasn't exactly a traditional Mandalorian one, by any means. Brahe's mother had essentially picked and chosen which parts of the culture she still thought were worth holding onto, but the whole notion of wearing the armor and never finding a place to relax and settle down? A way to find inner peace and contentment? The way didn't allow it, not in it's current state.

He cracked his knuckles.

"No weapons. If I win, you gotta try the soup!" He smirked again, clearly joking around with her as he stood up, rolling his neck a couple times in preparation and raising his hands in a fighting stance.

Song probably had no idea that Brahe had force powers, but that was part of the fun!

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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A week to arrive. The quarter of a day to fix.

Stuck with Brahe.

The news struck Song off guard. She wasn’t sure about staying on Krownest for too long, having hoped her stop on the planet would last at minimum several hours and at most an entire day. More than week was too much. For a brief moment, she considered leaving to find somewhere else to repair her ship.

Then she remembered there was nowhere else to go.

She sighed, her exhaustion slipping through, then looked over to Brahe. She didn’t find the young man too annoying. Maybe a little too nosy for her taste, but there was an endearing, generous quality about him. Kinda cute. The matter of the fact was, she didn’t want to be so close to the rest of Wren, her father especially.

It was why when she left, she went as far into the Outer-Rim as she could.

At least, at Brahe’s offer of a sparring match, Song could focus her mind elsewhere. It had been a while since she fought against a fellow Mandalorian, outsider or not. She appreciated the thought.

There’s no way in Mandalore I’m going to take off this helmet,” she said, but leaned off from the crate. “Though I’ll happily give you a run for your money.

She cracked her neck, then raised her fists. This would be interesting.

@Noctyr
 

Brahe Sienar

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"Hey, I'm already paying for your parts, alright? No need to take my money too!" He joked, smiling.

Brahe rushed forward, doing a rather quick movement as he swept behind Song with form 4, Ataru! Rushing forward with his hands and grabbing her from behind, he began to.....tickle the ever living crap out of Song! Brahe laughed rather comically as he tried to get his cousin to lighten up. The armor was making it harder for him to find spots where he could successfully tickle the poor Mando, but Brahe was a form 4 tickle MASTER!

She'd succumb soon enough! Even with that dang helmet on!

It didn't go 100% as planned though- in his haste to try and tickle her, he inadvertently felt her blaster pistol's handle dig into his side where the flight suit didn't protect him with any armor panels.

Gritting his teeth from the dull ache, he then smiled again, trying to keep her from moving as he continued to tickle the crap outta her.

"You're not gonna win this one, cuz! Hahahahaha!"

Rolled to see what the result was.

@Feng Mian
 

Song Wren

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Song drew in a deep breath. Her fists raised, one leg back and the other forward, she was prepared for whatever the other Wren had in store. Ready for whatever he’d throw her way, be it a hook, or a jab, or an uppercut. She waited anxiously for what was to come, hoping to predict his first move.

What she didn’t predict was… that.

He ran at her with unnatural speed, like a sudden blur and he was instantly upon her, slipping behind her guard and tickling her. At least, attempting to tickle her. Her armor covered her nearly head to toe, and though there were several cracks and openings Brahe could slip his fingers through, it didn’t matter. Song wasn’t ticklish.

Instead, she stood there, blank-faced and completely out of it. She couldn’t believe what in the ever living hell Brahe was doing to her, especially after the serious conversation they had only minutes ago, and she was suddenly back to wondering: was this why the Siener family was shunned out of Clan Wren?

No, probably not, but it didn’t change the fact that Song was becoming visibly unnerved by her Mandalorian brother. If she were drunk, if she were in a different mood, she might have played along with him. Tickled back, even. But she wasn’t in a mood, or a good one.

She was upset.

Recklessly, she elbowed Brahe in the gut, hoping to push him off her and give her some space. When she did, Song would turn to him and say, “I can’t tell if this is all an elaborate joke, or if you’re seriously trying to tickle me in a sparring match.

I came here looking for your help, Brahe. Not… not this.

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