i grabbed my fate

TRAGEDYWOVEN -> ASTRIVAGRANT

No, no. It’s not cool. I want my damn knives.

Casimir doesn't really react to her using the knife in an "improper way," so that says something at least. It's not very important, didn't mean as much as it could have meant, and he wasn't particularly obsessive with knife care. Some people were. Some Mandalorians were. So perhaps not a warrior culture, maybe he just likes knives."

Zu'elah is grateful that he doesn't question the helmet further. She's not embarrassed about her disability by any means, but it can be a liability at times, and in a galaxy where everyone seemed to be out for themselves, the fewer weaknesses she projected, the better. His blatant flirting makes her laugh again; how shameless he seems. Either way, she won't complain.

"It mostly just listens," she explains further, though with a smile pulling at her lips, hoping that will help ease whatever he has against being recorded. "Helps me filter conversation, or translate things I might not understand," and that's all the information she's willing to give, but hopefully it helps. "Anyone asks, I can always say I'm writing a holodrama," the Mandalorian shrugs. People say the weirdest osik, audio can be untrustworthy.

Excitement bubbles under her chest as he sets a meeting date. She genuinely can't wait to sit down and have a conversation with him. Even if he was secretive, just his answers and responses to the wider galaxy could paint a picture of another world. The mirth must be shining in her eyes despite all her attempts at keeping herself contained.

Too much energy Zu'elah, udesii. Calm down.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘊 𝘏𝘈𝘋 𝘚𝘌𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘋 𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘋 enough to him to not have guessed that she needed to re-hear conversations or events played back out. Then again, it wasn't as if he was the greatest judge of language. He couldn't get rid of his own accent & oftentimes the words in Basic stumbled out. Though since her ship had been in some other language ( just as she told him and he hadn't figured out on his own ) he supposed it was fair. Casimir thinks it was actually a rather good idea, especially since he had been trained to learn the language in a similar way. Listening, repeating, listening repeating. Memorizing the patterns.

Casimir shakes his head at her final question, nothing immediately coming to mind. He doesn't bring paperwork, neither would he bring a datapad. There were full intentions & expectations of going along with her to Jedha, therefore any examples he might consider showing could be revealed along the way. ❝ No, see you then. Bye. ❞ The call would end leaving him feeling somewhat satisfied.

.

More often than not, he is a relatively on time individual. In this case, he intentionally arrives at the restaurant early to choose a good table. Preferably in the garden. Though he had been quite sure Zu'elah was presently operating alone, he wanted to remain fully aware in case something had changed since yesterday, even since the call. The place was in the upper levels of the city, visited mostly by middle or upper-classed patrons who liked gardens, starlight, & a good time with a fancy drink or two. Casimir just liked it because he knew the food was safe enough to eat & that he's visited often enough now that most of the servers knew him & he never had to look at the menu to pretend to read.

He waited for Zu'elah at a table seated in the garden, with dangling fairy lights representing stars among the rooftop trees. The interior of the place was cute too, but he wanted a smoke while he waited in addition to not being boxed in. According to research, one never knew what to expect from Mandalorians. Though dressed down ( only slightly ) he still wore the jacket of his uniform as required to obscure his identity. Yet it was open, revealing a loose navy shirtpaired with his layered necklaces. The one with kyber, however, was intentionally hidden beneath the fabric. That, he was not willing to advertise. If he moved enough though, one might catch a glimpse of the knives & daggers hidden among the inner pockets. Maybe he wasn't the resturaunt's usual clientele, but they were use to him & no longer seemed to mind.

When he does finally see her, he taps his cigarette into the ashtray & offers an easy smile before gesturing to the seat, ❝ Good, you're here. Now I can order us drinks. ❞ He had, after all, told the waitstaff that he would order only after his company arrived.

Nothing's said about the specification of the recording or her excuse. Is that because he doesn't care, or because he doesn't know what a holodrama is? Zu'elah didn't even see her first holodrama until she was 10; it was on in a medic's office ( although, with such low quality and a horrible signal, one could barely call it watching ). Then she had never watched a full story until she was 16. Isrena introduced her to Mandalorian holodramas, and embarrassingly, she was hooked.

Was that really surprising, though? She chose her career after adventure stories.

Then he ends the call so abruptly that all she gets out is a "Ret-" before it's over. The anthropologist blinks and then laughs. And people thought Mandalorians could be short and succinct. With a dying-out chuckle, she quickly finishes her meal and then sets about her day.

-

Zu'elah arrives at the establishment only a few klicks early, perfectly timed so she stands in front of Casimir at the exact time of the meeting. She's always been proud of her promptness. Her new employer (she supposes she should consider calling him that) hasn't given her exact instructions or a name to give, so she simply asks for Casimir at the host stand and hopes for the best.

It doesn't take long to reach him on the balcony, dressed appropriately enough for the establishment, though perhaps titillating to some. She's sure her presence will just make them even more excited. Opting for something a little more practical, her full beskar'gam was replaced with a more suitable option for dining: a loose and cool long-sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her forearms, tucked into heather grey slacks and accented with a form-fitting button-up vest in a deep noble green: the color of Clan Jorr.

Her status as a Mandalorian is made clear by the beskar shoulder pauldrons, the right one adorned with her clan crest, a single cuisse on her right thigh, and the utility belt strapped around her slacks. Her right wrist has a vambrace and a fingerless wrist wrap underneath to prevent chafing. Clipped to the belt, her helmet swings, shining under the twinkling lights.

She has no weapons visible: a knife sits tucked in the small sheath on the inside of her cuisse, the knife Casimir gifted her resides in her boot, and the whistling birds are nestled in her vambrace. Rather than the messy bun she is most often seen in, she had taken the time to tame her unruly mane. After all, it's only polite, and he's buying.

Experience with Hutts was not something free people had much of, so Zu'elah's interest was piqued by Violet's words. Her attention turned from the menial task that kept her hands busy to the woman sitting in the pilot's seat at her side, with a different, more calculating look. Zu'elah didn't have any personal experience with Hutts; she only knew of them through reputation in the circles she ran. It made perfectly good sense that this woman would want backup.

Or maybe just a scapegoat.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘘𝘜𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘉𝘓𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘏𝘌 was sure an archeologist would have many nosey ones. She seems to move, as if comfortable & eating something. It reminds him that he felt quite famished, actually. That would assuredly help alleviate some of the ache in his head. Regardless, she seems to agree to his choice nonetheless. It was easier if he could set the tone for the meal, mostly because his personal aversion to meat generated consequences he was still learning how to control. There were some things that transcended culture & species, & that was generally the fact that vomiting at the meal table was thoroughly frowned upon. He doesn't want to embarrass himself ( let alone explain himself ) should the occasion arise unbidden.

Thinking on her admission about the helmet, he knows that he cannot read her as well at a distance than if she told him of this in person. She was being honest about it, however, & it was not as if he would not go with his gut & trust the Inheritance anyway. Not every variable could be accounted for. He would wear his jacket in any case so in the least his face would be obscured should something be truly recorded & stored away.

❝ Fine. Though I hope you won't leave it on too long. It's nice to dine with a pretty face. ❞ The corner of his mouth curves to pair with the light tease, because flirting seems to make him feel better despite Casimir's condition being his own fault.

Since it was already mid-day, there were a number of things needing to be done & yet he was sure that dinner ought to be at the appropriate time anyhow. So he settles for this, ❝ Meet me there at 20:00. ❞ He realizes only now ( with his brain catching up after all the lag ) that she had barely waited a day, only an evening really. Surely she must be intrigued or in need of business. It doesn't necessarily mean he would be able to pay her what she might be hoping for, but he couldn't help but try. After all, she had found one of the few datachips in the entire galaxy that triggered one of the ancient alerts. Accidents assuredly happened, but he had intuition gifted by the Ancestors in which he feels inclined to pursue this.

❝ And I will take these questions into consideration. ❞

Casimir doesn't really react to her using the knife in an "improper way," so that says something at least. It's not very important, doesn't mean as much as it could have meant, and he isn’t particularly obsessive with knife care. Some people are. Some Mandalorians are. So perhaps not a warrior culture, maybe he just likes knives."

Zu'elah is grateful that he doesn't question the helmet further. She's not embarrassed about her disability by any means, but it can be a liability at times, and in a galaxy where everyone seemed to be out for themselves, the fewer weaknesses she projected, the better. His blatant flirting makes her laugh again; how shameless he seems. Either way, she won't complain.

"It mostly just listens," she explains further, though with a smile pulling at her lips, hoping that will help ease whatever he has against being recorded. "Helps me filter conversation, or translate things I might not understand," and that's all the information she's willing to give, but hopefully it helps. "Anyone asks, I can always say I'm writing a holodrama," the Mandalorian shrugs. People say the weirdest osik, audio can be untrustworthy.

Excitement bubbles under her chest as he sets a meeting date. She genuinely can't wait to sit down and have a conversation with him. Even if he was secretive, just his answers and responses to the wider galaxy could paint a picture of another world. The mirth must be shining in her eyes despite all her attempts at keeping herself contained.

Too much energy Zu'elah, udesii. Calm down.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘎𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 & 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘓𝘠 𝘐𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘞𝘓, Casimir is pulled out of sleep at the sound of his entire starship chiming due to an incoming call. "INCOMING HAIL FROM WAYPOINT SHIN-DALET-ALEPH CODE ZU'ELAH KESSYK, MANDALORIAN LADY, ARCHEOLOGIST DOCTOR." The announcement reads over the speakers every five to ten seconds causing him a bigger headache. Dragging himself out of the bed, he stumbles through the Khlalit to make it to the cockpit. Briefly, he steals a look at himself in the reflection of the glass viewport & runs his hand through his hair to smooth it out. His shirt was loose & undone in the front, though he doesn't bother to fix it. Fortunately, she wouldn't be able to smell his breath through a hologram.

Damn he needed some caf. ( or a little more spice )

❝ Good... uh, afternoon, ❞ he answers after waiting for the small, golden hologram to form on the dash of his ship. Casimir hadn't realized that the morning had already passed until he looked at the time just now. Noticing that his accent had slipped a lot more, he clears his throat & tries to speak more clearly, ❝ I see you've thought about my offer. ❞

Otherwise she wouldn't be calling him. So he studies her image, mostly to try to wake himself up & be present for any of her responses. Her hair was down & from what he could see of her shoulders it didn't seem like she wore her armor. Strange, he thought they were practically glued to their armor, but maybe that was just a false observation. It wasn't as if he had necessarily met any Mandalorians before. She likely looked more put together than he did, but sometimes there was something intriguing about being disheveled. Unfortunate that the role wasn't reversed. After all, he had somewhat fixed his hair before answering anyway.

❝ Let's meet for dinner, yeah? I owe you, don't I? ❞ Tapping something on the board of his own navcomputer, he sends a coordinate location through to her side of the device. A restaurant in Ord Mantell City. Something a little less traditional than a discreet cantina or an eatery with private booths. It prized itself on local vegetarian cuisine according to the reviews ( should they be scanned ) but it was a place he's already vetted for himself. Maybe it was not a place for black markets or deal making. But the food was good, & that's what mattered most to him. ❝ & be sure to leave your recording devices behind, yeah? ❞

The sight that meets her is definitely a treat, one that has her hand pausing as the grubsticks are halfway raised to her mouth. An appreciative eyebrow ticks up to her hairline, and she blinks, then lets out a chuckle. The holocall isn't the best quality - she's not rich, sue her - but the details are enough for her to be able to appreciate what he so obviously does not care to hide.

She loves food and a show.

What catches her interest is that he seemingly went out after they talked and got wasted. Or perhaps he simply was plagued with nightmares; it's hard to tell when not in person. Zu'elah shoves the food in her mouth, taking note of the accent that lilts on his tongue before he clears it to something more neutral. Interesting.

As much as she wants to take everything in about him and take notes, she also has to remember that it is not appropriate to immediately believe everything about a person is connected to their culture. Zu'elah needs to be careful of her bias toward wanting him to be exactly what she hopes he is: someone connected to a deeply rich culture that is hiding from the greater galaxy. For all she knows, he can just be a pretty face.

The knife, and the datachip though.

The Mandalorian smacks her lips as she swallows and nods. Her mind has clearly been deep in thought for a while now. Bypassing a greeting, she simply gets right into it. "Yeah, I have a few questions first before I can come up with a number. I think something a little more fluid would work, with a retention fee."

Shoving the gubsticks into the to-go container, she balances it on the armrest, takes out her new knife, and starts picking at the dirt under her nails as she leans back nonchalantly as the restaurant he suggests pops up in front of her. Vegetarian?

⸻ ⛧ 𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘔𝘐𝘙 𝘗𝘈𝘜𝘚𝘌𝘚 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘋, turning slightly so that he might catch her parting words best. She had been watching him leave, he realizes. The information provided tells him two things. She already made a decision in partnering with him ( just that she only needed time to digest it ) & that he very much needed to look into this temple. There was already a large Jedi presence on Jedha. How strange that they were either unaware of this other or simply & intentionally ignoring it. Knowing that the datachip had been found in these buried remains, retrieving it was only the first step in... deleting information, as she says.

❝ Well, it's a good thing I might have you to lead me through it. ❞

Once more, he gives her a quick wink before finally making his way out so he could descend the ramp. He supposed he could manage a little business in Ord Mantell City while awaiting her admission to the decision. Manage to prepare the right assets to make her onboarding a little smoother. Though just in case, he is inclined to leave behind a failsafe. Should she destroy the communication device & should he have need of finding her again, he decides to write a small spell along one of the panels on the hull of her ship. Discreet, unusual for anyone who, well, wasn't Nythran. Casimir doubted he would need it anyway but it was there, a symbol carved into the hull smaller than the size of a hand.

& if the thought to follow him was on her mind, it may prove to be difficult. Any cams or recording devices would be unable to capture the details of his face. Within the collars of all scouting uniforms, there were small, metallic devices that were designed to interfere with any recording or recognition interfaces. It is one of the brilliance of their own personal technologies & how they have managed to hide so well in plain sight. The face of all scouts would appear blurred whereas anyone else in the recording would remain clear as day. This, & his ability to slip between any walls made of mostly-natural resources of stone, alloys, metals, & otherwise.

In the meantime, he would find buyers of kyber in the black markets in the lower levels of the city, perhaps buy a few drinks for himself, & work on replacing the knife he gave away with another from some scrap he found lying around. If she took too long, he might make his own way to Jedha without her.

Casimir pauses at her words, and she has to stop the satisfied smile that so desperately wants to shine out from her. Her instincts rarely stir her in the wrong direction, and while the strange man might be answering in a frustrating amount of half-truths, his reluctance speaks louder than any misdirections he might give her. She remains silent then as he leaves the ship, because she's going to work with him - Zu'elah is sure of that, but if he's going to be paying, then she's going to make sure she's getting her worth.

As soon as he's out of sight and off the ship, her whole body sags as the adrenaline of the moment rushes out of her body. The woman slides herself into the nearest seat and pulls her hair out of her bun. The tension releases where her fingers run through it in thought - the comforting massage seemingly restoring energy with every soothing rub.

Check the logs first, then food. Then call...buir?

The thought crosses her mind as she considers sharing even a hint of a find with the most important person in her life. The risk of it all is too much, however, and the Mandalorian decides against it as she scoots to the navcomputer to investigate.

...What?

Leaning for a closer look, she has to laugh at the inputs Casimir had made. No traps, but at least from the gibberish he input, people are kept out of the system. It helps to have a ship in different languages, with Mando'a dispersed throughout. It took Vhonte forever to code the language in after the ship overhaul, and even some words aren't properly translated. Zu'elah likes to joke that it's in Val'Como'a. A mismatch of Val'Eni, Galactic Common, and Mando'a. Although, from the looks of things, it looks like that paid off.

With that reassurance, she turns to her helmet and puts it on, intent on going over the footage and knife over dinner.

-

The meal was great, though she daren't trade the knife, so it sits in her boot from now on, as a reminder and a constant study. It only takes her a single night to decide to work with him. The opportunity is too good to pass up, and the footage on her helmet was so scrambled that Zu'elah herself felt like she almost forgot what the man looked like.

So the next day, as she's relaxing in the pilot's chair void of her beskar'gam, one foot up on the cushion, an elbow resting on her knee, while her hand holds a container of breakfast street food, despite it being lunch, Zu'elah decides to give him a call.

Is this extremely reckless? Absolutely.

THE WALKING DEAD

⸻ ⛧ 𝘡𝘜'𝘌𝘓𝘈𝘏 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠 𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘋 at hiding her emotions. Though he could pick up on almost everyone's, she wore quite a bit of it on her face. The surprise is rather cute. She might have blushed a little & he feels a bit more validated despite the blunder with the navcomputer. Thankfully, the Inheritance never lied to him. Not like how his brain refused to translate what his eyes saw.

Of course he does not blame her for recording the conversation, in fact, he had been careful in what he said since noticing it. Perhaps if she hadn't chosen to record, he could have given her a little more bait for the offer. For now, he would let her marinate on it. Sometimes the more curiosity the better anyway. He wouldn't mind feeding her a little along the way.

❝ Who said anything about a people? ❞ he asks, feigning nonchalance. It does make him wonder a little more about what she had seen. Then again, what else did she think he was hiding? Perhaps it was not so bad for her to consider that there was a world that fought for obscurity. Still, it was fun to keep her guessing. ❝ I will pardon this recording for now, but in the future it is necessary that you keep no records. That's the point of all this. Which you've already seemed to pick up on. ❞

Looking between her & the device he handed her, he also finds it rather endearing that she thinks he would only be able to find her just because he gave her something. No, he will let her think that. There are other ways he can track her should he need to. But all was clear, whether she hailed him or not. There would be no need to keep an eye on her unless she found something else of Nythran use without his consent which would prove to be interesting.

Pulling a small dagger from one of the hidden pockets of his jacket, he sets it on the dash of her navcomputer with little finesse. The hilt was ornate, a goldish hue in the metal when the light hit it just right. If it was held, there would be a balanced weight to it though small enough to be easily tucked away unseen. ❝ Here, the gift I promised. Aside from your life. Maybe it will make up for dinner. Nice to meet you Dr. Kessyk. ❞ The blade would double as his promise fulfilled, but also to insinuate that he was never unarmed. Likely still wasn't. There were more where just the one came from. Only now he would turn to make his way towards the ramp to leave her to her decision with a small salute.

She gives him a pointed look at his feigned nonchalance but remains silent until he makes his decision.

A starchart with a mission section she had never seen before, files attached to it containing coordinates to "entry points" hidden in a temple that showed signs of having been deliberately buried. Then, after trying to understand the chart further, a mysterious, threatening person breaks into her ship and asks about it. Sure, definitely not a mysterious culture.

Her body tenses as he pulls a dagger from his jacket. Zu'elah had assumed he was armed. Any Mandalorian who didn't was a fool. And even Jedi had their lightsabers in addition to the Force. He wasn't a Jedi, hadn't even really given any indication he was Force-sensitive. So maybe he's not. Maybe he's just an operative for these people. At least she can trust his dislike of Jedi.

But then Casimir is placing it on the navcomputer, and it's beautiful. She's not going to pick it up with him right there, but she can see that there are enough details for her to pore over later. It's not money, no, it's even better.

Oh, he's good.

Attempting to school her features into a more neutral one, she slides her attention over to him and gives him a long, deliberate look over, from head to toes as he's walking away. It's the first blatant study, really, and she's not shy about it. The aesthetic, at a cursory glance, of the knife matches his entire dress.

The hidden threat, the knife, and walking away. She feels like her breath was just taken away. Or maybe that's simply what happens wherever he goes. Some people are just like that.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘚𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘈𝘋𝘕'𝘛 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘜𝘎𝘏 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘏 quite yet which likely helps save her skin. Then again, if he really does end up hiring her ( one way or another ) it's more likely that some of the intel would have to be shared with her. Otherwise, how would she know what to look for? Though Nythra held no political power or sway, the scouts knew how to funnel resources. Hidden bank accounts, illegal identities & chain codes, as well as other espionage. They would have credits to spend should they find the proper uses.

Yet her compliment ( or was an insult? he wasn't too sure ) sounded quite Nythran in nature. You hold yourself like someone the stars respond to. Casimir rather likes that. It pulls a grin to his face, easy & holding a bit of pride. At least they could both agree to avoid Jedi, even if it might be relatively offensive to for one's aura to match it. It was better this way. If anyone were to be considered an enemy to Nythra, it would assuredly be the Jedi.

❝ Sorry about your dinner. I suppose I do owe you now, ❞ he offers at her admission. Surely they would need to come to an agreement, likely a thorough discussion. Casimir does not need to relay his findings or even this consideration to anyone. Most experienced scouts operated on their own, as long as their interests were aligned with their people. It was simply not possible for a Nythran to turn on their own kind. They bled loyalty.

❝ I will happily answer the questions I deem useful. Though you will have to forgive that I cannot be so forthcoming. As long as we meet where you're not recording me. Which would be a violation of a contract we might make, ❞ he inclines his head towards the dash of her navcomputer, as it had not gone unnoticed what she had done since setting her helmet down. Perhaps he cannot read, but he knew what he sensed. Still, he is not offended. Reaching into another pocket, he hands her a small device, ❝ When you are finished thinking about it, you can hail me with this. It will create an untraceable link to my comms. Untraceable to me, that is. Sorry. But it must be this way. I'll answer, if I'm not busy. ❞

Casimir takes her words as a compliment, and she supposes they can be. They were neither an insult nor a compliment. Over the years, from the different people she had run into and the people she grew up with, she had learned there were two kinds of people in the world: people who wait and people who take. People who wait believe in destiny, something written for them; they allow the universe to play out. People who take, know, if you want something, you make the stars bend to you.

Force-sensitive or not.

His apology is met with a genuine, bemused smile, and she brings a hand up to rub her brow, feeling a headache forming. What a last 20 minutes. One minute she was considering calling her buir to tell her about the discovery; the next, her ship was being broken into, and now she has a job offer.

The smile drops as fast as lightning as Casimir calls her out for recording. Surprise flashes before she gives him a wary look, drawing back within herself. All amusement and laxity leave her body. Not a Jedi, but Star touched most definitely. Her hand snatches out to her helmet, pulling it closer to her person.

"Can't be too careful," Zu'elah responds with a strained smile, annoyance written behind her eyes. Even still, she has worked with people she might not necessarily get along with swimmingly, so she takes the device without a word. She flips the device over in her hands. Vhonte can probably unscramble this quickly, and for a moment the thought crosses her mind, but then she eyes him and decides against it.

He can most likely kill her easily if he's dar'jetii (which she hasn't ruled out yet). She may be Manda and put up a fight, but she's not delusional about her own skills and abilities.

"I'm a scientist, and it acts as a security measure and accessibility. We always document and record...But I promise anything related to you or your people will not be kept. That's the best I can do, so maybe you should decide if that's alright or kill me now before you decide I'm not trustworthy enough, since you'll always have the drop on me if I keep this."

⸻ ⛧ 𝘔𝘖𝘚𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘚𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘌𝘔𝘚 to fade when she finally takes his hand. It's a firm shake & now they were on a first name basis. He ought to keep it to himself how close he had been to killing her. Then again, it was likely the same in return. She was just more flashy about it. Defensive about it. Again, all for reasons he cannot blame or fault her for. Either way, how quickly things had changed. At least their lives were seemingly no longer in danger.

❝ A buried temple? Is there anything else you found there? ❞

It is not necessarily a discreet question, but his people were not entirely against working with others as long as it did not become a problem of exposure. If this woman had the ability to find more, she could turn out to be quite the asset. ❝ I like your style then. I actually think this could be... beneficial. ❞ Lifting the datachip once again, he uses it as a prop, ❝ Things like this... maybe I give you a few keywords to keep an eye out for. I can compensate you. But, maybe leave the handling of it to me. ❞ She wouldn't want a different scout coming after her. One with less grace.

Now, as far as Jedi were concerned, he guessed that the term she used was the language in which she said her ship's systems were in. & given her Mandalorian get up, he was sure that there was no love lost between her & the Jedi. So, as to avoid wrong suspicion ( especially if he might attempt to recruit her ) he adds, ❝ Let me assure you that I am no Jedi. I rather like your term, actually. Jetii osik. I find their methods to be... displeasing. I prefer to avoid their kind... for several reasons. ❞ Casimir offers her a wink before finally tucking the datachip away into a pocket.

❝ How much do your services cost, Zu'elah? I don't want the Jedi bullshit you find. I only want what should not belong in their temples. ❞

For a moment, she considers not saying anything. The instinct to hide her findings is wrapped around her chest. He is a stranger, and Zu'elah knows how a pretty face can be the most dangerous thing of all. Though he didn't kill her. He didn't ruin her ship or track her down when she was getting food. Casimir looked at her ship logs. It was such a nonviolent and tactical decision that she found she almost respected it.

And that she hated most of all. She hated being immediately impressed by someone.

"Well, there was writing that I didn't recognize in some logs, which led me to that. I was planning on finding the planet the language came from and going from there."

Finding he is no Jedi is both a relief and a concern. Jedi could be both stuffy and bothersome, though she found they were at least kind. Force sensitives running amok in the galaxy were dangerous, felt like ash upon her tongue.

"Jedi are stuffy and get in the way most of the time." A laugh. "I've heard some say Mandalorians are born with hatred for jetii in them. My work puts me in contact with more Mandalorians than most. You don't scream jetii, but you hold yourself like someone the stars respond to, not the other way around."

And that's all she's going to say about that. Jetii, dar'jetii, Ra'eni, Sh'akiban, it was all the same to her. They were people who carried a certain air about them, a confidence she found in no one else.

Zu'elah can only blink in response to his words. Is he actually asking for her services? By the stars, this almost makes losing her dinner entirely worth it. The promise of not only decent pay, but contact with a secret culture. She felt like a child again: reading the old flimsis of adventurers discovering lost ancient civilizations.

It takes everything in her not to beam. Instead, her jaw clenches, and she takes a deep breath, hoping her excitement will leave with it. It doesn't work all that well, but enough that she can at least talk.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘚𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘌𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘛𝘖𝘜𝘊𝘏 𝘛𝘏𝘌 navcomputer but seems to guard it which... he cannot blame her for. There wasn't much he could do with it anyway. The blaster was stilled pointed, which was also fair but at this point he should have pulled a knife from the start. So that was his own fault. Though he cannot see her face just yet, she seemed to be eyeing him. Possibly taking a guess at who-what he was since he admitted to chasing her from Jedha & snuck onto her ship demanding information. But it all comes together far more quickly & rather seamlessly than he expects. Perhaps the Ancestors were giving him favor today.

Firstly, she had only found entry point coordinates but it would seem the data had either been incomplete or she hadn't read it in full. This was, actually, rather good news. For if anyone were to arrive within the region of entry points, the Nythran outpost would easily take care of the issue. Anyone with an intact curiosity would be inclined to go someplace mysterious, especially that of an archaeologist. So there isn't necessarily fault here. Wrong place, wrong item, wrong time. Although this was helpful for him.

Secondly, she unmasks herself & what could have led to disappointment was met with a more pleasant surprise only because he can sense that she is telling the truth & therefore he wouldn't have to kill her. All of this is followed by an actual introduction that brings down his guard despite the blaster still pointing at him. At least it's not his face. That's the best part of him.

Thirdly, he finds her occupation more interesting than he might on another day. It is not often that the ancient systems are triggered, which may very well make her a better archaeologist than others. ❝ I have no idea what that is, ❞ he admits flatly to her probable insult, though after he wonders if, maybe, he should know what a jetii osik is. The galaxy was just... too large to know everything. Even the Scouts found it hard to keep up.

❝ Perhaps I should apologize then, Dr. Kessyk, for breaking into your ship. Data like this is designed to alert me in the midst of... improper use. Therefore I act accordingly. Please... ❞ he gestures towards her blaster in hopes that she might put it away. Only to carefully extend his hand to hers as a meager attempt to make a better impression, ❝ You may call me Casimir. If I have not given you too terrible a scare or offense, may I have more details as to how you found it? ❞

Sharp eyes don't miss the way he relaxes. It's small, but through years of practice and being Mandalorian, one learns body language. Or at least, for humanoids, it's easier. At first, she gives him a disbelieving look and looks him over.

While Zu'elah's not the galaxy's best archaeologist or anthropologist - yet - she's still good. From the tattoo on his cheek to the necklaces and bracelets, she cannot figure out his cultural background. His clothes are unfamiliar, as are the symbols, not sparking even a distant memory.

Not a Jedi. Oh, she finally realizes. Zu'elah is going to blame the exhaustion and lack of food on this one.

Of course, a secret hidden world that she found the coordinates to would have shadow warriors. Again, jetii osik. But he's not a Jedi. So perhaps the protectiveness is more Force-sensitive superiority. Anger flares in her veins, yet she calms it with a simple exhale through her nose.

"Jetii osik," she repeats, clearer this time. "It means Jedi bullshit. I like my share of fancy force artifacts, but as soon as the fighting gets involved, I'm out. I might be Mandalorian, but I'm not stupid," Zu'elah frowns.

Her eyes nearly bug out when Casimir then apologizes. Manners. That's unexpectedly pleasant. As he extends his hand, she tips the blaster to point away from him. Casimir's hand remains between them for a moment as her brain catches up. She stares at his hand, then her eyes flick up to catch his, and she laughs.

"Scared and offended?"

⸻ ⛧ 𝘖𝘍 𝘊𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘚𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘈𝘋 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 it, though that does not mean the information has not been stored or shared. Unfortunate for her, as it could very well spell her death. So maybe it was not a shame that her face was obscured, he would not have to be so dismayed by taking the life from it.

Displeased by a half answer, he responds with one of his own. ❝ No, it is mine, actually. ❞ The Jedi certainly should not have this & it was assuredly a project that would soon be dealt with regarding the concerns of Coruscant. Someone who could actually read the archives more consistently of course, though Casimir would be prepared for a thorough extraction sometime soon. Mine was a loose term, but he could claim it on behalf of Nythra. That's what his role was after all. Looking out of the interests of his world by any means necessary.

She gestures for him to move away from the navcomputer, of which he has to take a moment to consider. This was a rather large ship for a single person, though that was his opinion. She might call for backup. Not that he was incapable of handling himself, but it could cause problems. & he couldn't follow the words on the dash to know whether she was doing something in which he would disagree with or not.

❝ I'll let all this go if you prove to me that you have not shared this with anyone and that none of my data has been stored, ❞ he responds, stepping to the side with a bit of a flourish to let her see to the console while not straying too far. Casimir might not have to read to have the proof, the Inheritance would tell him enough after all. ❝ And if you tell me what you read from it, I might even leave you a parting gift in good faith. ❞ Which he still debated whether or not she deserved to die, therefore making her gift likely her life but who knows he tends to be generous with blades as he can always make more. It all depended on just, what, exactly was on the datachip.

& technically, he preferred to avoid needless death.

It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's displeased with her answer. Although, to be fair, she had entirely been expecting that. Zu'elah has a horrible habit of letting her mouth run before her brain can tell it to stop. At least it makes life interesting.

She also has the habit of telling as little of the truth as she can to save her skin.

In this case, it gets her more information. Her mouth twists behind her helmet as she becomes on higher alert than before. If it's his and it has to do with Force-sensitivity, well... that could be big trouble for her.

With careful steps, she starts getting closer to him. Eyes checking for a lightsaber that she could see. He doesn't dress like a Jedi, doesn't give off Jedi vibes. While not a fan of them, she had run into the stray Jedi during her many years of schooling on Naboo. Field study has to start somewhere.

"Okay," Zu'elah alieves carefully. It's an acknowledgment and a stall for time as she thinks through the situation, trying to get over to the nav computer. Not necessarily to do anything, more so to be there in case he does. All the while, her blaster does not waver.

Vhonte, Jorr Clan's hacker, had suggested she put traps on the ship on top of the alarm. It reminded her too much of the New Nihil, having to carefully tread upon the very place she should have called home. Eventually, she got past them all, and those skills led to her lucrative career now. In hindsight, she might have to add traps now.

Never again will this happen.

The hairs on her neck stand. The open-endedness of the meaning gift sat heavily upon her chest. She's alone, and the confidence the other oozes is enough to make her second-guess herself. Her pride, the instinct to not back down from a fight, nearly fights her before she exhales with a defeated sigh.

Perhaps, better to approach this as an academic.

"Nothing," her shoulders shrug. "I found it, put it in the system, and started planning for the first entry point. I was still trying to figure out the different entry points and how to get there."