| Cuyan- (Mandalorian!OC) |
Summary: Iliana awakens in unfamiliar surroundings, and a familiar face delivers grim news.
Warnings: Angst?, SW cursing, canon-typical violence, mentions of injury and blood, panic, mentions of child death.
At this point, I'm just bending the SW timeline to my will. If timeline inconsistencies aren't your thing then I apologise in advance but it all makes sense to me in the grand scheme of Iliana's plot.
Eventual oc x Omega (parental relationship obviously)
Any Mando'a will be translated at the end.
I think I've added all the appropriate warnings and tags but if I've missed something or tagged it incorrectly feel free to let me know and I'll fix it asap!
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-Chapter Two: A Familiar Face-
Pain. Red hot, searing agony. It was the first sensation her slowly waking mind became cognisant of. Through the slowly lifting haze of unconsciousness, Iliana couldn't focus on much else aside from the deep-seated burning that tugged at the base of her ribcage, a feeling akin to having a hot poker plunged into her flesh repeatedly setting her every nerve aflame.
With every passing second small fragments of her faculties returned and with them so came her ability to comprehend each and every ache and pain that her mind had blocked out during her sleepless rest. The twinge of overworked muscles, the ache of joints having been overextended without reprieve, the tenderness of new and old bruises festering upon her skin. All were not sensations new to Iliana and yet they assaulted her dulled senses simultaneously and without mercy.
Then came the familiar sensation of bandages wound taught over fresh wounds. The telltale tugging of haphazard stitches that forced torn skin back together. Signs of rudimentary aid intended to keep her alive littered her battered body. As the last fragments of awareness slotted back into place, the dam holding back a tidal wave of memories finally crumbled.
Bombs falling. Blaster fire raining down on civilians and warriors alike. Her father wheezing out his final breath. Each shard of memory was more gutwrenching than the last as they battled it out for the forefront spot in her hazy mind.
Her eyes remained screwed shut and yet Iliana could see with terrifying clarity the falling debris, could feel wave after wave of aftershock. She could taste the rising bile in her throat as she clung to the tiny, motionless hand peeking out from beneath the shattered remnants of the nursery.
With unimpeded clarity Iliana Byrnne could remember the fall of Mandalore.
Despite the pain thrumming within the confines of her skull, Iliana forced her eyes open to find a worn wooden ceiling staring down at her. Pushing herself up with her left arm, the right being restrained and bound across her chest, the young woman attempted to force herself upright to no avail. The movement brought about new waves of pain, each expanse of her lungs set the raw flesh along her abdomen ablaze once more, muscles tensing and spasming against the small exertion.
Her throat felt raw, and painfully dry as a hacking cough tore through her chest. The metallic tang of blood danced mockingly along her tongue as she tried and failed to force oxygen into her protesting lungs.
Over the loud coughs tearing through her, Iliana barely recognised the throwing open of a door, or the shuffling of feet. It was only when a hand came to rest upon her shoulder did she comprehend that was no longer alone.
Agony be damned, Iliana wrenched herself from the foreign touch, hasty movements throwing her from atop the rickety table she'd been laid upon and onto the floor with a harsh thump. She scrambled for her weapon, the knife kept within her vambrace, only to come up empty, the icy realisation that she had been stripped of her armour washing over her.
Breath quickening, panic closing its jagged claws around her heart, Iliana grappled with her aching limbs in a bid to push herself away from the stranger, forcing her broken body into the corner of the room in a vain attempt to gather some feeble sense of defence. Without her armour, without her weapons and in her weakened state liana had all the defensive capabilities of a newborn.
"Easy," A gentle voice tried to soothe, drawing the frantic searching of Iliana's eyes to focus on the kneeling twilek woman who'd come to kneel an arm's length in front of her. The woman's face bore the gentlest of smiles as her hand slowly moved to extend a carafe of water out to Iliana. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The woman's words brought little comfort, actions eliciting only suspicion from Iliana. In a single jolting movement she smacked the offered drink from the twilek's hand before shuffling impossibly closer to the walls at her back.
In spite of Iliana's actions, the woman's smile never faltered. Instead, the twilek slowly moved away, offering Iliana the space she couldn't put between them alone.
With slow, deliberate steps, the woman moved back toward the door she'd come through, a gentle offering to go get more water slipping past her lips as she went.
Alone once again, Iliana scoured her surroundings for something, anything.
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Those two short words sent a flood of relief through Rex's veins. He may not have known the Mandalorian well, if at all given the small handful of short conversations they'd shared, but that didn't diminish the weight that her survival had lifted from his shoulders. He had refused to lose anyone else so soon regardless of how minimal their connection to one another was. He didn't think his already bruised heart could've withstood another strike.
"Good," Cut breathed out, eyes shifting to the two shallow graves that had been dug in the passing days. Jek and Shaeeah sat by the foot of them, quietly braiding together flower crowns to adorn the poorly erected wooden markers. "How's she doing?"
Suu let out a dejected sigh. "Wary, she did not care for the pain she caused herself in trying to get as far from me as she could."
"It's to be expected," Cut tried to reassure his wife, hand raising to rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades. "Maker only knows what she's been through to get here."
The man's words rang true but offered little comfort. The news of Mandalore's falling had spread quickly, reaching eve the most remote corners of the galaxy. The three of them could only begin to guess what the woman had been forced to endure.
"Perhaps a familiar face would help ease her?" Suu glanced toward a silent Rex.
A beat of silence washed over them. After a moment of contemplation, Rex pushed a hand through his hair and forced himself to stand. The possibility of clones playing a role in the decimation of Mandalore remained uncertain to him, the chance his presence may cause more harm than good tauntingly circled within his mind. "Maybe."
Cut and Suu watched, each wearing their own looks of concern, as the former captain stalked off toward the very barn he himself had once been sheltered within.
Approaching the barn's side door with tentative, almost cautious steps, Rex's knuckles rapped against the worn wood in slow succession. Barging in unannounced would do no good, he knew as much and so he waited for some form of response no matter how minute it may be.
A crash came from within, the sound seeping out through the slivers of space between the door and its frame. A pained grunt followed shortly after, only to be muffled far too quickly- as if it had been forcibly stifled in a bid to hide it.
Waiting for an invitation was thrown out of the proverbial window. His Mandalorian acquaintance hadn't been in any condition to be moving the last he saw her. For all Rex knew she could've torn her stitches and be bleeding out as he waited, he wasn't about to let anything of the sort happen.
Slamming his entire weight against the door, the rusted hinges protesting loudly, the old door gave way all too easily, swinging open from the force and smacking harshly against the adjoining wall. Boots scuffing against the ground, Rex all but dived through the open doorway, moving to the fallen woman's side as she lay motionless beside the now broken table. He didn't offer the splintered wood a second glance as he gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder.
That had been his first mistake.
A sudden harsh blow struck him in the side of the head. A broken leg from the table, his dazed mind realised as his body slumped down beside the not-so-motionless Mandalorian. Rex's limbs refused to move, senses numbed by the unexpected hit.
Then came his second mistake.
The weight of his blaster disappeared from its place within its holster. Pressure against his chest, over the very spot where his heart resided within was all the confirmation he needed that his own weapon had been turned on him. His senses returned to him, the predicament sobering in a way and he forced his open palms up slowly in surrender.
Rex met Iliana Byrrne's gaze, a storm of molten rage swirling amongst the dulled vermillion of her irises. It was the look of a woman with nothing left to lose, sympathy swelled in his chest despite the weapon so intently trained upon him.
"Easy Soldier," Rex saw the spark of recognition as he spoke but his words did nothing to soften the heated glare boring into him. Her finger flexed around the trigger for a singular moment before the pressure lifted ever so slightly. "'m not gonna hurt you, just wanna help."
Iliana didn't relinquish her hold on his blaster but she did pull it back, still pointed his way but no longer directly over his heart. Voice raw, the brunette bit out a response. "Not like you could."
There was a tense silence as Iliana inspected the blaster in her grasp. Then the four walls around them. Finally, her sharp gaze settled on Rex once more.
"Where are the foundlings?" Her finger twitched over the trigger once more, a warning hanging unspoken over them. "Where the kriff are my foundlings?"
Four words. Four measly little words were all it took to shatter the warrior's resolve. Four words and her facade of strength fizzled out.
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Additional Notes: Not proofread, I refuse to suffer my mistakes alone.
Mando'a: Cuyan- survivor
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