GOLDENROD

"If you insist." Though he easily agreed, his brow wrinkled in clear distaste for lack of titles. His late Master had insisted on recognizing titles until the day he died and Obi-Wan—somewhere along the way—had picked up on the habit himself. "And it isn't formality, it's respect.

"If you respect me, then I request that you refer to me by my given name, and not that of my family's." Titles were superfluous in the field. The color of the badge, or the weight of your title, meant absolutely nothing when you had a blaster bolt burning your skull. Didn't it?

To her, all that was important was the self in that way. Painted armor felt the lingering touch of the family, but presented the bolder identity of individuality.

"I'm not many Mandalorians." The sight of a man who practically stank of self importance wrinkled her nose beneath the shadow of her helmet's visor. The new Imperial growth that poisoned itself on the galaxy worried her further.

She understands his point of view a bit better. The differing views of many different clans, families, and Mandolorians have left her with curiosity about each one she's encounters, hence her question about such loyalty. She also doesn't like stepping on others' toes, unless they are a direct enemy of hers. Which is rare.

❝ So, your heritage and familial bonds mean quite a bit to you ? ❞ She asks to confirm her suspicions. She doesn't mean to pry. Truly, she just doesn't quite no what else to do with herself at the moment.

❝ Familial bonds seem to run deep as a general belief. Among many across the galaxy. But what are those to do when they have no family to speak of ? ❞ She ponders with a small sigh. It is a reassuring theme for her to ask and have others respond with family. With the very rare few such as Bo-Katan saying otherwise.

"Heritage?" He shakes his head, no. Not exactly. He thinks of his time as a proud dog of Clan Vetch. Believing wholeheartedly his clan's ideals were the right one. It wasn't until he'd met her and her unwavering ideals of unity that he even broken that thought from the typical.

"Heritage ain't got a thing to do with it, love." He leans forward a little, still staying sat squat on the log before the fire that baked him in its warm light. "Family ain't always about who you were born to, or their history. We make our own family. Make our own history. Bein' Mandalorian is about bein' a protector. A fierce warrior for the family you make for yourself." But he motions to the rock at his left, the one an equal distance from the fire. One his wife sat at when she was here with their shared family. Welcoming her to the fire.

Her curiosity only stems further. She is still learning much from others, and her only frame of reference is that of which she has come to know as kyr’tsad.

❝ No, i suppose not. ❞ She replies simply, only staring at the complex intricacies of his armor.

"Don't know how other folks do it in the system, so I ain't gonna be particularly a decent teacher." Resting his elbows on bent knees, he leans himself forward, sizing her up a decent bit. Trying to get a decent bead on her without asking too many questions.

Happy Birthday Antje Traue 

Welp