#rhilain

Somehow, she'd made a shadow of herself. It wasn't that she followed Ilian around - it was more the urge to gravitate towards the friendlier people around the compound and Ilian happened to be one of them. The forges were running hot that day, the Ischoron warmachine slowly churning out armor and weaponry for the vode on the frontlines. Rusty with her baar'ur skills and a little too short tempered to deal with the wounded now, she wasn't wanted in the medical bay, so she was having trouble finding work. These days, the bounty hunter was making an art form of casual meandering. With the opposing feelings concerning her return swirling around her old family, she was doing her best to appear nonchalant, unsure of how much she could get invested before she was run out of the compound. Meandering casually into Ilian's station, she leaned on a support beam. "Hey," she ventured, "Can I… stick around here?"

---

“...bigger than most," he was muttering into the receiver when her voice made him turn. Swinging the mask up to see her better, Ilian nodded as if by reflex. Only after did he look around, uncertain what she could do or where she could sit, and what any others who may wander by might think. She wasn't the first to ever sit idly by and watch the smiths work—apprentices and young children would often do so—so there were places she could stand or sit without getting burned, and the opinions of the others workers weren't terribly relevant, he decided. Smiling faintly, he nodded again more deliberately. "Yeah, but you may get bored. I know watching you patch guys up always bored the shit outta me." Turning back to retrieve the long beskar shaft from the heat, he selected a hammer and gave it a few test pounds. He refrained from speaking into the recorder further.

---

Sidling up onto a nearby table, she crossed her legs, and leaned back against the wall. "Yeah, possibly. But being bored out of my frakin' skull in here's better than wandering around out there." The bounty hunter only barely heard the sound of his voice through the mask, and that it didn't sound like random muttering intrigued her. "Are you on the comm with someone?"

---

Nodding, he frowned—the expression hidden by the mask he'd pulled back down—at the implications of her preferring the heat and boredom to the open air she'd always loved. Was she still getting shit from some of the clan? Of course she was. Stars, at another time in his life if some Ischoron had come traipsing back in after ditching out on the clan without almost any word for that long, he'd probably have been muttering "dar'manda" too. Or shouting it, given what a jackass that Ilian tended to be. Looking to her again, he shook his head. "No, I..." It was actually a little awkward. 'I was recording stuff for you, I guess?' Not a lot of point to that since he could just talk to her in person since she was back. Course, she wasn't always right there to listen to his musings, but he supposed she was now. Flipping the mask up, he dug the device from its slot and tossed it too her, his fingers a little too clumsy to work the controls in the thick gloves he wore.

---

Catching it nimbly, she glanced down at it, puzzled but not overly so. A small smile alighted on her face as she navigated through the device. "These got me through some… interesting times." She admitted, dropping her hand into her lap and looking back up at him. "I got all of them still, yours and John's."

---

Mask back in place, he nodded again. "That's good," came through a bit muffled, Ilian unsure what else to say. It was still a bit overwhelming to think about her having received all of them. Though he managed a few more ringing blows on the bar, beginning the process of flattening it, he turned back to her and lifted his visor once more. At this rate he wasn't going to get any work done, but it was hard to care. He wore a tiny smirk. "I figured. Words of wisdom, right?"

---

Legs unfurling, she draped them over the edge of the table, feet slightly swinging. Leaning back on her hands she sighed, her own smile rekindled by his, though her eyes dropped to the smoldering bar of metal. "Not really. Maybe a little." She half shrugged. "It was more slices of life. Reminded me of what I was missing." Her dark eyes found his face again. "It got worse when you took over."

---

He could imagine. That was all he could do, really, having little clue what she herself had gotten up to over all that time. No one tricked her into sending him updates. When they shared a moment of eye contact and she confessed how she had missed... him, perhaps—she didn't quite say it, but he could see it—he found one hand pulling his mask back into place, though he pushed it up again a moment later, having no real reason to wear it beyond hiding. Dammit, old man. Ilian killed the heat to his forge. He'd have to reheat the metal from cold, but no one was waiting for it anyway, the long soon-to-be blade a personal project. "Let's get out of here," he started, pulling the mask off completely along with the gloves. He moved closer, setting his gear beside her on the table and removing his heavy apron and the thick coat beneath it. "I'm not gonna get anything done and... it's hot."

---

Surprised, Rhia paused. "You sure—" but she didn't finish the question. Yeah, he was sure, and she didn't object in the least. Sliding off the table, she straightened and ran a hand over her short hair, a grin flitting across her face. As they stepped out into the cooler air, she breathed a sigh of relief and stuck her hands in her pockets, stashing the recording device. Maybe it was a junkie for them, but she certainly planned on going through it later. "So…" She started, clearing her throat and feeling awkward. "What's up then?"

---

He'd noticed that she did that regularly, running her hand over her scalp. He could see why, the short hair looking both soft and bristly at the same time. He still wanted to feel it himself, but had yet to do so. He'd probably just keep wondering. It was kind of interesting, watching her casual, sithspawn-may-care attitude shift when she focused on him. Things felt uncertain and awkward for her, too. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or not. Shrugging, he gestured back the way they'd come, easily keeping pace with his longer legs. "Just making a really big beskad. Seems like it'd be better than the mythosaur axe. Might be crap, though. We'll see. Just kinda experimenting or something." A brief pause passed as he looked at her. "What about you, though? I'm sure there's a lot more you could tell me."

---

Skipping to catch up with the larger man, she nodded. "That'll be a sight to see." She commented. "Send the gi'e running back the way they came." The revelation immediately put her in mind of Darik and his penchant for power hammers. She had to chuckle, but said nothing more. At his invitation, she lifted both eyebrows, lips pursed in thought. Suddenly, she had the urge to spout out all of her adventures this past decade, but held her tongue. He didn't seem to like the stories that didn't involve him, but then… that was old Ilian. Still, she really didn't want to blow it with him again. Three times was probably enough, right? "As in right now, or are you looking for a digest of the decade?"

---

Again he smiled and shrugged. He did still like the thought of having the biggest weapon on the field and awing opponents and allies alike with his ability to wield it, same as he had as a boy. He understood now, though, that there was a limit on practicality, and if the weapon he envisioned proved unwieldy, he wasn't going to carry it around just for show. Though he'd meant more of a recap of her time away or somesuch, insight into how she was doing just then was certainly something he'd enjoy. "Either," he said. "Both. Whatever you wanna say, really."

---

Well, that certainly gave her a lot of freedom. Not a lot of people invited her to just talk. It was always because they wanted something. A description, an idea, a battle plan. An explanation, mostly. Why were you gone, where did you go — thatwas what she'd expected, but… She could see how much he'd taken after John. Looking away as they started scaling the first dusty ramp of the tiered compound, Rhia fiddled with the lint in her pocket and ran her thumb over the pommel of her belt knife. She decided to just take a leap and go with the first thing on her mind. "I'm a little surprised. It's been... tough, readjusting being back here. I'm real used to being on my own, so the communal mentality…" She thought back to the small rally the Ischoron youth had held in the training yard, praising the glories of battle, and joining together to fight for their planet, and inwardly scowled. "… Is a bit different." Stalling out, Rhia fell silent, lips pressed together as she sought out another thread of thought. "I think I missed it. A little. It's still darker out there." She gestured vaguely upward, towards the sky.

---

Eyes alternating between the woman beside him and the path they walked, Ilian nodded as she spoke. "Guess it would be," he supplied when she first fell silent. He'd left himself many times and on occasion been away for long stretches, but always that had been for battle, going to a specific place for a specific purpose and accompanied by alliance personnel if not his own vode, so he'd never stopped being part of the community. Gazing up at the late afternoon sky as she gestured, he nodded again. "It is." She probably meant it in more ways than he understood, but he could at least appreciate some of the darkness she'd faced away from home. Not even considering herself to have a home. "Do you prefer the dark?" His tone was inquisitive, but offered no judgment, at least not yet.

---

One side of her mouth quirked up. They were getting philosophical, she hadn't expected that. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she was silent as she mulled the question over. These were the sorts of things John would ask, and another pang went through her chest. Dammit, old man. "I… don't know." She said, "Yes… I like being out there, but…" Eyebrows drawing together, she looked uncertain. "Not alone. All the time." "Why?"

---

He didn't shrug this time. He knew precisely why he was asking. "I want to know you." He'd said the same thing, more or less, back when she'd first arrived. A reminder wouldn't hurt. She'd known him to be a bit inconsistent, in all fairness. He thought about her answer for several steps before speaking again. "You did always like your freedom. I think a lot of mando'ade feel that way." He couldn't exactly relate, and to a degree that made him sad. It would have been nice to hear her say something more like 'Nope, I love it here and am never leaving again, except to fight the gi'e.' She'd hardly have been her then. Ilian was actually encouraged by the lack of any fundamental change in her, at least that he'd seen so far. More cavalier, more independent, perhaps a bit steelier. Much shorter hair. Nothing that told him the Rhia he'd known was dead and gone.

---

His declaration had an interesting effect on her. It stole the breath right out of her lungs, but not in an entirely good way. It was the weight of memories, good and bad, and and bitter thoughts pressing down on her. They said they would know each other forever, a long time ago. But how much did that really mean then? Stars, they were so… young. Rhia felt that she was old enough to see past the frills of love, though. It was hard to really know a person, especially when they were in the midst of such turmoil. Just as quickly as those thoughts stampeded past, they were gone, leaving her feeling a little worn and a hundred years older. Her first thought was something self-deprecating, but by now, she'd had enough of where those words would get her. Between her return, and Arken's insistence that she wasn't broken, she was growing tired of the platitudes. She wanted to move on from that an reacquaint herself with her clan. No, scratch that. With Ilian. In person, in real time. "Yeah," Rhia agreed, "I…" The woman paused. Speaking of her past clans was not always an easy topic. "I grew up a nomad. With my family. I think wanderlust runs in the blood." Then she chuckled breathily, "When did you get so careful with your words?"

---

He only nodded again when she spoke of the clan she'd been born into. He'd been a helpless child—if he'd yet been born at all—when they were destroyed, and had made very little effort since to study and understand the lost clans. He'd not pretend to understand everything she must feel about her first family, but what words she shared made sense. Ilian shared in her chuckle following her question. It was a pretty stark contrast, he supposed, from the way he'd been the last time they stood together in the compound. With a shrug he joked, "Blame your dad." Thinking about it a little more, though, he said, "I don't really think I'm any more careful with my words. I mean, a bit, yeah, but I still tend to let people know what I think. Just... only when I think it matters or might help, instead of all day, every day."

---

"I think I miss that." Rhia said quietly, glancing up at him. "In a nostalgic, not-really sort of way." She smiled, and then, without thinking reached up and touched his chin, turning his face to her. "What I don't miss is the nodding. It tells me you're thinking all sorts of things you're not sharing."

---

He chuckled again. It was kind of surreal, talking to someone who had last seen him as the arrogant young jackass he'd been and was only now interacting with his current self, rather than the way the rest of the clan had watched him grow and mature. Made the contrast that much more noteworthy. He looked at her silently again for a few moment after she redirected his gaze. He clearly wasn't discomfited by her touch, but he was busily analyzing it. "Part of the 'only when it matters' thing. Most recently I was thinking that I don't know much about your old clan, beyond what you've said. I was raised here. I was born here. Hard for me to fully relate. But I do get that we kinda are what our parents shape us into." Pausing, he thought back on Kartagia, on John, and on himself over the years. "Until we decide to be something else."

---

"Wise words," The small Epicanthix mused, with a nod. He sounded so much like John that Rhia was wondered how much of the Ilian she knew was really left. How much had John shaped him in the past decade? A part of her was worried, another part impressed, another part angry. Angry at herself, for missing out on John, for being jealous Ilian had enjoyed the majority of his teachings. But she tempered her inner thoughts and turned her attention outward. "You sound just like him." She continued, sucking in a breath. Her eyes fell to the ground as they continued trudging up the hill, finally cresting it to see the cool forests that surrounded the compound. The mercenary forged onwards without stopping, stepping into the shade. "What was the funeral like?" She probed, glancing back up at Ilian.

---

"I'll be sure to write'em down." He wouldn't really, but he might record them. Just because he wasn't planning to send the logs anywhere didn't mean he'd stop. Beyond the habit of it, it provided a guage to measure any future thoughts against, see if he was getting away from his values. Or something. It just felt like a good idea. Her comment drew his gaze, and for a moment he merely smiled to himself. However it was meant, he took it as high praise. "I swear more," he observed with a grin. He'd also never heard John talk about his penis, something Ilian was still prone to do time to time. Her question was answered without much delay, the memory coming easily. "Simple. Not small; whole clan was there. He was alor, after all. But yeah, simple. Short. 'Snot like he left any requests, you know? Even more'n most, John didn't really care what happened to his body." He knew that she'd been to the little memorial, her forced entrance none too subtle. "The helmet was... just me, I guess. Mastiv gave his approval, but John hadn't mentioned it or anything. Just felt wrong to melt it down though. He loved that thing, with its weird, wide-ass visor."

---

Rhia huffed quietly, bobbing her head in thought. "Yeah, the visor was always… an odd choice. Effective though." She wished she'd had a chance to ask the man about the design, but that opportunity was long gone. In a way, she was disappointed. No last requests… Of course, it was selfish to think she might've been mentioned, but she had hoped. And hey, weren't the audio clips enough? Apparently not. Shaking her head, she hunched her narrow shoulders and stared hard into the sun-dappled underbrush. The woman was getting the distinct feeling that they were were skirting around things. Delving into some important issues, but not much beyond that. She chuckled again, "He didn't tell you who you were sending the packages to? I'm a little surprised."

---

Ilian snorted lightly, running his knuckles over the bark of a tree as they passed. "I'm not. He knew it'd probably color what I said, what I sent. Don't think he wanted to throw us back into each other's shit or whatever. Think he just wanted you to keep hearing about home. Or..." He paused to think about his words. "Maybe I was just the one he felt he could trust to keep it up, or maybe he wanted them to come from me, wanted you to know me." Shaking his head, he shrugged. "Dunno. You know John; honest, but he only ever told people what they needed to know. Mighta told me it was all for you if I'd pressed him, but he just said it was for a trustworthy vod, and that was enough."

---

  "Would it have?" She ventured, "Colored what you said, I mean?" The woman was silent for a long moment, and then surged forward, too curious for her own good. "What would you have done if you did know where they were going?"

  --- "Not-" he started, but she cut him off with a further question. He remained quiet for a moment, scratching at his neck and chin. "Not entirely. Not with all of them. But... yeah. I'd have still sent them, but I think I would've avoided topics. I mean, I woulda talked about me less. About my... You know, about her n' shit. That's the weirdest part now, knowing that you heard all that."

After a pause he kicked at a loose stone and gave another little snort. "Frakin' John." ---

"I'm sorry." Rhia laughed again, but it was more of a reflex, a defense mechanism than actual mirth. But her voice still held notes of sincerity as she went on. "It was years before I heard about her." She told him. "I couldn't… I…" This was very weird, saying it to his face, rather than quietly thinking it in the dark, "I couldn't expect you to stay, not when I didn't. I was… glad." Rhia bit her lip. "I'm not going to do anything stupid."

---

The long pause struck again, Ilian gazing intently at the slightly older woman. At last he just shook his head. "You're in for a boring life, then." Halting his stride, he looked about. They'd wandered into a small copse near the compounds edge, where the wild encroached slightly. Leaning back against a trunk and folding his arms, Ilian returned his gaze to her. "And I'm not. Sorry, I mean. Things went to shit, yeah. Not really how I'd have liked it all to pan out, but..." He shrugged. "Don't really regret much." Feeling the need to clarify the more he thought about it, he pressed on. "And I wouldn't have talked differently outta guilt or anything. Just... I dunno. When Arken deigns to swing through now and then, I don't stroll up to him all, 'Hey, I got someone else to rig the electronics in my suit. They're not as good as you.' You know? I mean, what good does that do anybody?"

---

Finding a tree opposite, Rhia leaned against the trunk before sinking down to sit on the protruding roots, stretching her legs out before her. Within a few moments, one idle hand found a small branch, her knife appearing in the other to start fiddling. As he continued talking, her brows furrowed, her focus narrowed on this new mini project, while she worked to keep her face neutral. "Yeah," She agreed when he paused, "Yeah, I get you." A small silence, and then she cleared her throat. Perhaps he wasn't saying all the things she wanted to hear, but something about this last declaration had some tight knot unwinding in her chest - a little bit of closure was always a good thing. "Me neither. I mean, I don't regret us," The knife flashed as she unconsciously flitted the blade between herself and Ilian, and she smiled a little. "I regret that it ended the way it did, but I honestly don't regret stepping out for a little." She huffed, and then shook her head, "Little being a very relative term, here." Dark eyes lifting to his face, her grin widened a little, grew a little softer. "We both had a lot of growing up to do."

---

"Heh." Yeah, given their lifespan ten years may have been only a little, but it was still a third of his life so far. All that time had apparently done little to dim his enjoyment of her smile, however, at least the genuine thing she offered him then. It was subtly different from the smirking grin she'd flashed time to time since she arrived. "Guess so, yeah." He wasn't so certain they couldn't have done their growing up together, but there was no point in letting himself get drawn back into the bitterness he'd felt years before. There was nothing either could do now to change what had happened and in all honesty he'd rather she feel okay with that now than still talking about how broken she was. "So we're real adults now," he said, returning her smile. "'Sprolly all downhill from here."

---

"Well…" She started, heartbeat jumping at the expression on his face. "It doesn't need to be… I suppose it depends on where all of this goes." Quickly, she waved her knife hand again, gesturing in a vague circle. "Everything, I mean. I'm not— You're probably…" Rhia sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He probably knew what she meant. She hoped. After a few seconds, she grinned and ruefully pointed the tip of the blade at Ilian, making a face like she was aiming down a sight. "It's always you. You're the only one in this whole damn galaxy who always gets me tongue-tied." Slowly, the woman stood, sheathing the knife and brushing off her backside. Tossing the twig, she patted her hands together, and then stuck them in her pockets, one fiddling with the recording device again. "Just to be clear…" She paused, biting her lip, unsure. "I think that… you and I would be… Well, if you wanted. If we..." Rhia cleared her throat into her fist and shrugged. "It'd be great. But, I'm not… expecting anything." Slowly, she nodded as if reaffirming her own statement, and then, to her shame, her voice wavered a little and she ducked her head. "Just wanted you to know."

---

Smile growing more lopsided and less certain, Ilian listened as she faltered and stammered, eyebrows lifting in amusement and interest. Though he remained leaning back against the tree, his head tilted toward her as she paused. He’s probably what? Yes, he could generally get where she was going, perhaps part of what she was feeling, but what was she assuming about him? He looked to the ground at her accusing observation, grin broadening again as he shrugged helplessly. He certainly wasn’t trying to get her tongue-tied. He’d have preferred her be able to just speak plainly, but he understood. And he liked this fact, too. For one, it was just funny. For two, well... He liked it. Though his eyes were raised to her again as she spoke, he again looked at the ground when she was done, shaking his head and still smiling. Pushing off the tree, he stood and face her. “Remember what happened last time you said that?” She’d used those words before, telling him she didn’t expect anything. It was after Dxun, after he’d remembered, after their last battlecircle match. He inclined his head toward the armory, though it wasn’t visible from where they stood. The armory he was now hilariously in charge of as quartermaster. Ilian took a couple steps forward. “We never went slow after that. I mean, every time we were together from then on it was... Everything was a whirlwind.” He shrugged. “I dunno if that had anything to do with things going the way they did. Maybe not, but...” Pausing, he scratched at his chin again, continuing to slowly approach. “I dunno. I think we should try to just be gradual n’ stuff. You know? We’re older now.” With another two steps he reached her, one hand finally reaching up to run his palm lightly over her hair. It was that he stared at for a moment before finding her eyes and nodding. “Yeah, I think that’d be wise. But, I mean, I know I’ve said it already, but I want you to really know that whatever happens, whatever you think or feel, I’m glad you came back.”

---

The woman's lips parted, all sorts of responses bubbling up her throat. "Well, yeah, I…" But she closed her mouth quickly and just followed suit; looking down at the ground and smiling. It was a stupidly big smile but at the same time a shy smile. He was right, and it was what she meant to say, but failed. No surprise there, but still. "No, you're right." She agreed, wholeheartedly. Looking up at the sound of footsteps, she tilted her head at the man, bemused but unmoving. It was oddly intimate, and yet still casual, the warmth of his fingers tracing over her scalp. He liked to do that, she remembered suddenly, a long time ago, and leaned into the touch. Meeting his eyes, the shorter woman struggled with the profoundly powerful urge to pull him a little closer. She failed. It was easy, as natural as breathing; stepping closer, Rhia turned and rested her head against his chest, looped her arms around his waist, and pulled Ilian into a fierce hug. The woman heaved a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. "Yeah… Yeah, me too." She breathed.

  ---

  Momentary hesitation kept him from returning the full embrace, but momentary only. He squeezed back, hard enough to hear the pop of a vertebra or two. It would have been easy—her head resting at such a convenient height—and intensely gratifying to lean his head down and kiss her forehead. Such a kiss wasn't necessarily romantic, the sort of thing that might pass between siblings. Ilian knew how it would go from there, though. If his lips her touched her, hers would then seek his out. That would carry on for some minutes before leading into a mad rush for his room or deeper into the woods or perhaps back to the armory. No, he'd stand by what he'd said. The line had to be drawn somewhere and he knew enough to set it further back than he'd have done in the past.