#rhilian

Today was one such day, the matron of the house deciding they would bring all homemade rations with them to Dxun, no exceptions. Rhia was more than happy to participate, especially since she was joining the father-daughter team. Crowe was elbow deep in some sort of dead animal, while Salsa and Maria juggled food and utensils back and forth as the chef called for them. Sighing, the woman straightened from her work, wiping suds from her hands and forearms, and glanced through the screened window over the sink. Spying a (she hoped) familiar shadow on the porch, she called to Maria, and was promptly told to get out of there. Scurrying from the kitchen, she tiptoed through the modest living room and pushed open the door. "What, are you trying to sneak up on us?" She teased, leaning on the doorjamb and tilting her head at Ilian. "You know you're allowed to just come in." --- Not really having a suitable explanation, Ilian shook his head. "No. I just..." He shook his head again. "Yeah, I know." Now that she was right there, he wasn't as sure he wanted to go in and face everyone else likely having something clever to say about it as well.

Craning his neck to gaze past her into the house, he sniffed. "I'd have been told if there was a feast or something. Crowe heading out again?" He could smell and hear that there was a great deal happening in the kitchen. It actually drew him in some, stepping closer to Rhia and leaning around her for a better sniff. --- Turning halfway away, she made some room for him in the doorway, but otherwise didn't move, allowing him to draw closer. There really wasn't much room in the doorway, but she didn't mind. Tilting her head up to look at his face, she snorted at his response, but shook her head. "Nah. Well, not a feast to share at least. It's for the road."

The scent of cooking meat, swimming in tiingilar spices strong enough to sear the inside of the nose, wafted from the kitchen, as did Maria's commands. Before she could reply to his second question fully, Crowe's head appeared in the doorway (apparently everyone was looking for a break from the Tyrant), and seeing Ilian, he grinned widely and waved one bloody hand. "I heard my name," He informed them, "... Why aren't you coming in, you know you're allowed in." --- Rolling his eyes, Ilian stepped just past the threashold, pressing aginst Rhia as he did. Holding out both hands once he was through the doorway, both her and Crowe were graced with a pointed look of silent 'there, I'm inside. Happy?' It melted into his own grin quickly enough. "Where're you running off to?" he asked the older man. Pointing back at Rhia with his thumb, he added, "This one drive you off by leaving girly things around the bathroom?" --- Squeezed back into the house by Ilian's passage, Rhia closed the door behind both of them. Leaning back against the door, she quirked a grin, looking unrepentant under his look between herself and Crowe. However, she couldn't help but scoff and give him a hard, playful shove at his second question. "I don't do that." 

Wiping off his hands, Crowe stepped out of the kitchen, closing the swinging door on his mother's bellowing and leaving Yasala to her mercy. "Hey, I wouldn't mind lacy underwear all over the place, but nah." With a grin, he jabbed a thumb behind him. "I'm taking Yas'ika to Dxun. It's one of those find something and kill it vacations." --- For just a moment it was like it had been when they were young. Before all the complicated romance crap, when the most fun thing Ilian did was provoking Rhia. Well, second most fun.  He made a show of looking around confused after she shoved him, as if trying to figure out where the light breeze had come from. A grin was finally aimed her way before turning back to Crowe.

Ilian snorted himself and almost pointed out that Rhia didn't have any lacey underwear, but both the realization that he wasn't certain of that anymore and Crowe's next words cut that train of thought short. Heavy concern replaced his smile, and he folded his arms protectively, even though Yasala wasn't in the room. "You think Salsa's old enough for that? Dxun's not easy mode." His arm twitched. --- She hadn't expected to do much. It was a bit like pushing around a pillar, no surprise there, but she gave it her best effort. Failing, she moved past him and stood halfway between the two men. Ilian's questions were not new to Crowe; she'd done the same thing after hearing about it, and even as his arm twitched, Rhia's eyes glanced across it, wondering if the scars were still there. 

Still holding the rag, Crowe worried his fingers with the cloth, scrubbing away more blood and gore. He didn't look particularly perturbed by Ilian's question, but certainly thoughtful. "Well, I'll be there. And Rhia too, right?" 

He looked at her and she nodded, crossing her own arms. "It took some coercing." She said as an aside to Ilian.  When he looked back at his friend, he was the third to cross his arms, looking both defensive and reproachful. "She's sixteen years old, Ilian." --- Glancing to Rhia, Ilian's face darkened further. That she was going as well hardly improved the prospect in his mind. He made no response to her aside; he wasn't sure he believed her.

Looking back to Crowe, he shot back, "'Skinda my point." She was Crowe's daughter, wasn't even technically related to Ilian at all. Wasn't even his species. The way the clan worked though, he felt well within his rights to voice his concerns. "She's got lotsa time to go glory hunting. Lotta years in front of her. Unless, you know, some damn fool takes her to Dxun." --- Crowe's green eyes darkened, but his body remained relaxed, non-aggressive. He respected Ilian, certainly, but having his judgement questioned so blatantly… Well, he'd come to expect the honest truth from the man.

Easing off, he exhaled, and purposefully dropped his arms to his sides. "I'm not sure I can cancel it, even knowing that. There would be an unholy uproar if she found out why." --- Backing off himself a bit, as it was all too easy for Ilian to believe that this had been Yasala's idea rather than Crowe's, he shook his head. With a shrug, he suggested, "I'll tell her. Mastiv's out. I'll say we need her here." --- Crowe held up his hands and shook his head. "Ain't no good would come out of lying to her." He said, stepping forward, "Look…" He paused, looking between Rhia and Ilian and had an expression on his as though the lightbulb just went off. "Why don't you come too, vod?" He gestured to Ilian, "You two know the place, there's no impinging on my daughter's warrior honor and there's safety in numbers, yeah?" --- Warrior honor. It wasn't without merit, but the mad clamber to acquire and protect it was one of the mandalorian traits John had criticized. 'There are things more important than what others think of you,' he'd once said when Ilian had made a similar argument. Of course, he couyld imagine well enough how he'd have reacted if John had told him that at sixteen.

Frowning, he simply said, "I don't like Dxun."

A glance to Rhia was hopeful for some support, but she was no more in a position to impose her will than he was, even if she agreed.

"When are we leaving?" he groused. --- Throughout the almost argument, Rhia was looking between the two men, tense, unsure of what to expect. She wasn't confident enough in her knowledge of either man to know if it would come to blows and she would have to haul ass out of there. Or break it up? The smaller Epicanthix wasn't certain she could do that without getting hurt. Admittedly, she was unsurprised when Crowe was the first to back down, the man having always been more mellow than most Mando'ade. Relaxing, she perched back against the wall, arms folded over her stomach, but her relaxation didn't last long. When Crowe invited Ilian along, both eyebrows flew up and she straightened.  This seemed like a very Bad Idea, and yet… Knowing he might accompany them made Rhia feel far more confident about their chances. Ilian's expressed opinion of the planet twanged against some deep set sympathy, her memories of the places just as wretched. If there was anything between them that could never be broken down, it was that shared experience. Before she knew it, she'd reached out and put a hand on his forearm in silent comfort. She had no support to offer, the woman focused on Ilian rather than the conversation now. Crowe, however, looked terribly pleased. "Well, since you're needed here, it looks like it'll need to wait until Mastiv is back anyway." Half turning, the man pushed open the door to the bustling kitchen and then stopped, "Thanks, Ilian. Really." And then left the two alone again.  Looking back up at Ilian after Crowe's departure, Rhia offered a concerned smile. "Is it really that bad for you?" --- "Yeah." He was speaking to Crowe, a terse if not entirely ungracious acceptance of his thanks. It might have worked as a response to Rhia as well, but he only shrugged at her. It was a lopsided gesture, though, using only the arm her hand wasn't touching. He didn't want to shake her off. "I'll live, prolly. Just, you know, everything surrounding that's bad memories." Again the half shrug before he corrected, "Most everything." --- Rhia hadn't needed or expected the correction, but it certainly felt good to hear. She knew what he was talking about without asking as well.

The hand on his forearm lingered for a heartbeat longer, giving a small squeeze before she withdrew it. "I was surprised. I expected you to be pissed about not getting invited along sooner. You two are close, aren't you?" ---

"Yeah," he repeated. "But I dunno. When Mastiv's gone I feel a little weird heading over here. Like I'm trying to replace him more." He waved his hand dismissively.

"'Snot the point, though. I'm not pissed that I wasn't invited. No one should be going. There's plenty of shit out there trying to kill us already. We don't need to go looking for more." Despite the fervor of his words, he kept his voice low, controlled, not wanting to be overheard. ---

Moving closer to hear him better, Rhia kept her eyes focused on his face. "This is a traditional rite of passage." She answered, slowly. The woman didn't believe the words herself. Once, she'd been a truly fervent Mando'ad, but her time away had tempered that. "It will gain her standing in the clan."

She paused and then her gaze dropped to the floor. "And, honestly, maybe it'll work for me too." ---

"Frak the clan." Still impulsive. Yet he shook his head and sighed immediately afterward. He didn't mean that, but it led to no end of frustration to be the leader—if only intermittently—of a people and not agree with some of their core beliefs. There was a reason, he knew, that despite holding the heavy respect of virtually every Ischoron, John had always been somewhat distant. Touching her chin with the pads of two fingers and lifting gently, guiding her gaze back to him, he nodded. "Everything you said is true, but that doesn't make this a good idea. Doesn't actually help anyone to go kill something big n' ugly that's sitting on its own little moon. 'Sall just a glorified dick measuring competition." Withdrawing his hand, Ilian shook his head again. "You shouldn't hafta prove yourself to these people, your family." Inclining his head toward the door Crowe had disappeared through, he finished, "Neither should Salsa." --- His expletive brought a small grin to her face, but she continued to look at the floor until she felt his touch on her chin. Raising her eyes back to his face, she felt very much a child again. She huffed quietly, but didn't move. 

"Sure." She agreed with another quick shrug. "Sure, but we're a minority. If I want to stay here," Her gaze went past him, to the door beyond the house, the clan beyond their immediate family. She set her jaw in silent defiance. "I need to play by the rules. And I mean to stay."

Relaxing, she shrugged a third time, "And dick measuring contest or not, Salsa should have a taste of glory." She chuckled in private amusement. "I feel the same as you do, but we've all had the chance. Maybe, for now, a jungle's better than a battlefield." --- It was gratifying that Rhia agreed with him. She'd of course picked some of this up from John before he ever had, but she was nothing if not independent these days, and that left him uncertain which way she'd lean. More than that, though, something else she said affected him powerfully. 'And I mean to stay.'

One large palm came up to cover his mouth as he looked away as if in deep thought. Really he was just making a token effort to conceal the encompassing smile that lit his face, but it could still be seen in his eyes and the crinkled skin around them.

Containing himself, he repeated one of her last words. "Maybe." He remained unconvinced, however. Dying in the jungle for no real reason but to feed some beast was not preferable to dying in a war against the galaxy's current tyrants.