#Bounty hunter: verin wolfe ejnar

[cinlat]

I might have a couple....

100 OC Asks

Okay, so there are plenty of these out there but I just wanted to make one of my own! (That, and I’m high-key desperate for asks about my OCs lol) Just tag your OCs so people can ask you these!

1. What do they smell like?

2. What is their voice like?

3. What is their biggest motivator?

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

6. What do they like to wear?

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

11. What do they feel most insecure about? 

12. How do they like to dress?

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

15. What is their greatest achievement?

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

19. Are they right or left handed?

20. Fears?

21. Favorite kind of weather?

22. Favorite color?

23. Do they collect anything?

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

25. What is their eye color?

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

27. Hair color?

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

29. Are they a morning person?

30. Sunrise or sunset?

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

32. Pet peeves?

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

34. Least favorite food?

35. Least favorite color?

36. Least favorite smell?

37. When was the last time they cried?

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

40. Do they have any scars?

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

42. Do they have any bad habits?

43. Why might someone dislike them?

44. Why might someone love them?

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

49. Do they like surprises?

50. When is their birthday?

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

52. Do they have any family?

53. Are they close to their family?

54. What is their MBTI type?

55. What is their zodiac sign?

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

57. What D&D alignment are they?

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

59. What are their views on death?

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

63. Do they have an accent?

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

66. How do they feel about sex?

67. What is their sexuality?

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

72. Are they allergic to anything?

73. Do they have a pet?

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

75. How patient are they?

76. Are they good at cooking?

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

80. Are they trustworthy?

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

82. Do they exercise regularly?

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

86. Do they like sweet foods?

87. What is their age?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

91. What is their sense of humor like?

92. What mood are they most often in?

93. What kinds of things anger them?

94. Outlook on life?

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

96. What is their greatest weakness?

97. What is the greatest strength?

98. Something that they regret?

99. Biggest accomplishment?

100. Create your own!

[cinlat]

Funny scene meme

I was tagged by @melissagt

I’ve been sick over the last couple of days and haven’t been able to keep up with who all has been tagged. If you want to do this, put me down as tagging you.

Post the scene you have written or drawn that amuses you the most. You can either copy and paste or summarize it!

This has always been one of my favorites from Family Is More Than Blood. Vik and Cormac set down some explosives to clear out an Imperial presence while Verin and CInlat chase down a bounty in a neighboring sector. Naturally, things don’t go according to plan. I’ll stick the rest under the cut.

Fynta coughed even though her helmet kept out all the debris; it was human habit. She pushed a few chunks of rock off of herself and checked in with her squad. "Sitrep, now." Fynta groaned as she scrambled to her feet. Everything within a square kilometer of their target had been reduced to rubble and slag.

"I'm functional," Dorne replied first, but her voice was strained.

"Hold on, doll, I've got ya." That accounted for Cormac, who was clearly helping Elara with whatever she needed.

"I'm good too," Vik announced.

Yuun trailed on about the flow of life and the directional velocity of the rubble around him until Fynta interrupted. "Jorgan?"

For a few, long seconds Fynta's heart hammered in her ears until his comm clicked. "I'm pinned, but otherwise uninjured."

With everyone accounted for, Havoc started digging through the rubble to find their lost Cathar. Vik spotted him first and waved Fynta over. Jorgan laid on his back with one foot braced against a large portion of permacrete. His left leg vanished beneath it, and Fynta's gut clenched as she hopped into the depression to examine the damage.

Fynta gave Jorgan's free leg a pat to tell him to move it out of the way while the rest of the squad encircled him. Everyone chose a side based on Dorne's hypothesis of where the majority of the weight was centered, then waited for the medic's order to lift.

"Can you feel your toes, sir?" Dorne asked.

"Yeah," Jorgan responded through clenched teeth. Worry gnawed at Fynta when she heard the pain in his voice.

"Excellent." Dorne said, then turned to the rest of the team. "Ready? On three." They lifted in unison, and Jorgan crab walked backwards to dislodge himself. Once the slab was discarded, Fynta offered him a hand. The Cathar tested his weight on the leg, and she noticed that the plate above his knee had a substantial dent in it.

"Good thing you outfit your soldiers with the best," Jorgan commented as he took a few hobbled steps.

Armor reminded Fynta of her brother, which reminded her that the blast had been much larger than she'd warned Cinlat about. Fynta opened a line to Verin's personal comm. It beeped twice before he answered.

"Fierfek, Fynta!" She breathed easier. If Verin was swearing; he was alive. "A little overkill don't ya think?"

Cinlat patched in too. "Next time, I'm asking what IT is. We lost our bounty." The woman sounded angry, but Fynta was just glad they were alive. She cut the line without answering, and held her hands out in a what the shab gesture towards Vik.

"Not really sure. Shouldn't have been that big." The Weequay sounded truly perplexed as he squatted to study the debris.

"What exactly did you wire them to?" Fynta asked while keeping an eye on Jorgan. He hadn't said a word, not even to call Vik an idiot, which concerned Fynta.

Vik shrugged, "I tied them into the power lines that run beneath the prison. They should have been running on backup gennys, which don't put out as much kick."

"Hold up," Fynta said, lifting a hand as she contacted Verin again.

"Yeah?" Verin answered immediately this time.

Fynta nudged at some rocks with the toe of her boot, and tried not to sound like a little sister. "Did you switch on the power plant?"

"No," Verin responded with an indignant snort. "Our mark did."

"Fierfek." Fynta disconnected again and addressed the squad. "Bad luck. Someone turned the plant back on just before Vik hit the button."

"Are you kidding me?" Jorgan threw his hands up in defeat and limped away, presumably to mutter while he nursed his leg.

Vik crossed his arms. "That'll do it."

If she wasn't wearing a helmet, Fynta would have rubbed her temples. Letting her arms hang at her sides, Fynta sighed instead. "Let's find Dagger Wing and make sure we didn't just kill our objectives." Wouldn't Garza just love that briefing?

[cinlat]

Dec 06: On A Mission

Word Count: 433 Summary: Verin has two women in his life. One he plans to marry, and the little sister who vexes him. Fynta learns all of her lessons the hard way. A/N: This just seemed like something a young Fynta would do, she was as much of a disaster as a teenager as she is today. Mando’a translations under the cut.

“Are you sure you tagged him?” Verin asked as he, Fynta, and Cinlat stalked through the thick jungles of Kashyyyk. Her faceplate turned towards him, and Verin knew that his little sister had just leveled him with her most sarcastic glare.

“Yes, or’dinii” Fynta snapped from the head of their formation. She held a small rifle in the crook of her elbow to allow access to the readout on her forearm plate. “Shot him in the shebs at close range. He won’t be digging that tracker out anytime soon.”

Verin fell silent, ignoring Fynta in favor of admiring the woman in front of him. Cinlat moved like a predator, stepping lighter in her beskar’gam than he could barefoot. One day, he'd win her over, and she'd finally agree to be his wife.

“Blood,” Cinlat stated in a bored tone, nodding towards a painted leaf.

Fynta doubled back and squatted mutely. Cinlat was the only person in the galaxy that could silence Verin’s little sister with only a word. The huntress hadn’t shown herself to be much for conversation, so when she chose to speak, the Wolfe siblings listened.

Once or twice, and with ample amounts of sweets, Verin had goaded Cinlat into speaking more than her daily allotment of words. He’d known that she was a Great Hunt champion, but Verin had been astounded by some of the stories she told. Cinlat particularly relished the retelling of killing her arch rival by leaving him on a burning ship. Verin had tried to kiss her that night, but she’d pulled away. The next morning, Cinlat acted like nothing has happened.

“That’s too much for a tracker,” Cinlat answered to a question that Verin hadn’t heard. But, he understood the implications.

Verin looked over the women’s shoulders, then towards the west. He spotted more blood, and followed it to a clearing of flattened shrubbery. “Fyn’ika, you sure you shot him with the right gun?”

Fynta pushed to her feet and stomped forward to stand by her brother. “Of course--oh.”

When Verin glanced at his sister, he realized that she was almost as tall as him, and in desperate need of a new set of armor. Cinlat followed, stepping around Verin to see what the two were staring at. She gave a disgusted snort, then shook her head.

“I could have sworn I shot him with the tracker.” Fynta checked her holster, then her shoulders tensed. “We still get paid for a corpse, right?”

“Yes,” Cinlat answered. “But, ten thousand less. You get to drag the body back.”

Verin slapped the back of Fynta’s helmet even as Cinlat turned towards the ship. “Watch out for Wookies, vod’ika.” To her credit, Fynta didn’t argue.

or'dinii [Ohr-DEE-nee] moron shebs [shebs] ass beskar'gam [BES-kar-GAM] armor vod'ika [vohd-EE-kah] little sister

[cinlat]

Because I’m feeling lazy tonight, and would rather link the chapter than format it. Plus, headache.

[cinlat]

Soul of the Bes’bev - Ch 3 (Heritage)

Summary: Balkar starts to get ideas

Rating: M

Warnings: Mild Language and interrogation

Words: 2,346

Chapters: 3/?

Author’s Note: Editing post migraine. Be kind and overlook any glaring issues for me.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3 under the cut.

SIS Headquarters 05:00 (One Hour in SIS Custody)

"All we're asking for is the person who hired you to take out those men. You help me out, and I'll help you," Tramao said. The Rattataki interrogator squatted in front of their prisoner, forcing her to look at him with his fingers tangled in her hair.

Agent Balker stood against the wall with his arms crossed. Cinlat Ejnar, collar of the century, was every bit the stuff of legend. "I told you," she spat, sweat dampened strands of white hair clinging to her cheeks. "Some Imperial broker hired me to lift the chips off the Black Sun. He said they were stolen, Imperial property. I didn't know they were SIS."

Balkar stroked his chin as he watched. Cinlat was surprisingly calm for a woman who had taken that kind of beating. Tramao wasn't known for being a gentle questioner, and Balkar wondered if Fynta hadn't been right about the training. If so, then where was her husband? The bounty hunter held fast to the claim that she'd worked alone, regardless of the footage they'd shown her of the male.

"And where is this broker?" Tramao asked. He twisted his wrist, tightening his grip in an effort to get an emotional response from the woman.

Cinlat glared at her captor through eerily backlit eyes. "I shot him."

"Convenient," Tramao sighed. The Rattataki stood, letting Cinlat's head drop forward again. He slowly removed his jacket and hung it over the chair. The prison tattoos on his forearms and biceps told the tale of a man who'd joined the SIS in an effort to stay out of trouble, not because he felt patriotic.

The door opened enough for Fynta to slip in. Balkar kept an eye on her through his peripheral, curious to whether or not she felt any loyalty towards Cinlat through their shared heritage. If so, the major didn't let on. Balkar finally turned his head towards her when she took up position next to him. "Where's Captain Fluffy?" He asked softly. Tramao did a good impression of looking intimidating. Unfortunately, his audience of choice had yet to raise her head. Cinlat simply didn't care what he planned to do to her.

Though Balkar couldn't prove it, the agent was fairly certain there was something going on between Fynta and her ever present Cathar bodyguard. The guy had clearly developed a hard-on for her years ago, but Balkar couldn't be sure if he'd ever acted on it. From what he had read in Fynta's file, she wouldn't have thought twice.

"Cathar and Mandalorians don't get along," Fynta answered, eyes set on their prisoner. "She'd shut down completely if I brought him in here."

Balkar nodded and turned his attention back to the interrogation. "He paid you, right?" Tramao continued, wrapping a cloth around his knuckles and flexing his fingers. "Shooting your clients isn't usually your MO."

"He lied to me and used me," Cinlat answered in a tight voice. "I take that personally, and I don't kill Republic soldiers unless I have to."

Tramao thin eyebrows shot up. He squatted again, taking hold of Cinlat's curly locks so that he could study her face. The barest hint of discomfort flitted across the woman's face as her shoulders tightened from the awkward way they'd been secured. The Rattataki threw a meaningful glance over his shoulder, and Balkar nodded. "So, what?" he continued with a disbelieving snort. "Now you're on our side?"

"I'm not on anyone's side," the huntress growled. "But, I've worked with a few Republic Soldiers. Decent guys for the most part, and we have an understanding." Cinlat lifted her freaky white eyes and offered a bloody smile. "That sometimes extends to SIS."

Balkar stepped forward to ask the next question. "Who are these soldiers?" Sure, nabbing Cinlat was great, but what she eluded to could be counted as treason. Republic Soldiers working with Imperial bounty hunters posed a big problem.

"Too many to count," Cinlat answered, forcing her head up further to look at Balkar.

"Sure." Tramao back handed her again, and Cinlat fell quiet. Fynta touched Balkar's arm and nodded for him to follow her outside.

As soon as the door shut, Fynta started in on Balkar. "I told you she wouldn't break under torture." Balkar shrugged, but before he could respond that they had to start the interrogation before Cinlat's male managed to free her, Fynta continued, "Let me try."

Balkar felt his eyebrow raise, then cleared his expression for the flirty one that had always worked on Fynta in the past. "Planning some super, secret Mando technique?" Fynta's eyes narrowed, and he forced a cheerful laugh. "Hey, just kidding, doll. You heard the woman, she shot the guy who hired her. It's a dead end. We'll lock her up and be done with it." After a few more questions, of course. Cinlat probably knew a lot of valuable information about the Empire that the SIS could benefit from. But, Fynta didn't need to know that.

"Wouldn't you rather know for sure?" Fynta's voice held none of the flirtiness from their previous meetings, and he wondered if she had more at stake in this mess than she was letting on. I've worked with a few Republic soldiers before. Cinlat's words took on new meaning as Balkar stared at the woman in front of him. "If we don't look into this, it could come back to bite us," Fynta continued. 

"You think you can crack her?" Fynta nodded, offering a flirtatious grin. Call it morbid curiosity, but Balkar wanted to see where this went. He waved a hand for her to pass. "Fine. Let's see what you've got. I can stall her processing for a couple of weeks, maybe." If his hunch was correct, he couldn't leave Fynta to her own devices, though.

"One condition," Balkar called out as Fynta turned back towards the room. "I get full access to everything you find, and one of my agents accompanies your team." Fynta scowled, lips pressed together. Just when Balkar thought she'd decline, the major turned and stalked back into the room. "Beat it," she said with a jerk of her thumb.

Tramao walked past, wiping his hands on a cloth. "She's a tough one. Good luck."

Balkar grabbed the door to the interrogation room as it shut. He wanted to hear what Fynta said to the bounty hunter. By the time he pulled the door closed behind him, Fynta had taken up Tramao's position in front of Cinlat. She spoke in Mando'a, and Balkar grumbled internally that the Republic had such a limited database on the language.

Cinlat raised her head slowly, then spat in Fynta's face. "Aruetii."

Fynta wiped the impressive glob of saliva away and muttered something else. Whatever she'd said got Cinlat's attention, and the two women stared at each other for a solid minute. Finally, the bounty hunter nodded her head and answered with one word. "Tatooine."

Fynta pushed to herself upright. "I'll take care of it."

Nar Shaddaa Safehouse 05:45

Verin stood at the tinted window, staring out over the neon lit moon. Cinlat was out there, he even knew where, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Verin saw Aric in the reflection of the one way glass. The Cathar approached carefully, making only enough noise to avoid startling him. Aric stepped next to him in silence, a cup of caf held out by way of greeting. Verin accepted the drink with an appreciative nod, and the two men looked out over the brightly colored landscape in silence.

All things considered, the caf wasn't half bad, although Verin felt guilty enjoying such a simple pleasure while Force knew what was happening to his wife. He rolled the bes'bev in his free hand, caressing the familiar notches and grooves to calm his nerves. Verin had never been good at inaction, a trait he and his little sister shared. Fynta, at least, had luck on her side.

"Mind if I ask a question?" The Cathar's voice rumbled through the silence in a way that made Verin twitch. He'd had his fair share of alien encounters, but Cathar had always been off limits. Now, he had one in his aliit. It still boggled the mind when he thought about it.

"Ask anything you like," Verin answered. "We're family now."

"What is that?" Aric tipped his head towards the flute in Verin's hand. "I've never seen anything like it."

Verin couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up his throat. "No, I imagine you wouldn't have." When Aric raised a questioning brow, Verin instantly scolded himself. This man was good to his sister, and a skilled warrior who'd chosen to take on the insanity that qualified the Wolfe-Ejnar family.

Clearing his throat, Verin started again. "It's called a Bes'bev." He handed the musical weapon to the Cathar, who studied it intently. "It's a melee weapon that doubles as a flute. Or, the other way around, depending on your mood. This one belonged to our mother."

Jorgan's ears twitched when he looked up. "I thought buir meant father."

"It means both." Verin accepted the bes'bev back from Aric and allowed himself a small smile. "Our father used to play it, since mom was a lousy musician. But, this," he waggled the flute in front of Aric, "has been in her family for generations. She would have passed it down to Fynta when she was old enough."

Setting the half empty cup of caf aside, Verin held the bes'bev two handed. "My father used to compare this with our mother. He told me to find a woman who bore all the attributes of the Bes'bev. Let her be hard as beskar, deadly in a fight." Verin demonstrated the proper thrusting technique when used as a weapon. "But, gentle enough to make your life beautiful in the darkest hours." He blew a long, low note that had always given him chill bumps. Judging by the shiver that ran through Jorgan, he wasn't the only one.

"It sounds like your father was a wise man," Aric commented. Given that Verin's father tended towards the drunken end of the spectrum, wise might be on the generous side. He was a solid man, though. Someone who ensured his family never went without.

Verin chuckled and turned the flute over to examine the engravings. "Buir had his moments. He called it the Soul of the Bes'bev." Verin sighed and looked out over Nar Shaddaa again. "He'd have liked Cinlat."

"Fynta said that Mandalorians are trained to resist most forms of torture from an early age." Verin gave the man props for not beating around the bush. Then, Aric slid those cold, blue eyes in his direction. "And, that if a man married a woman who isn't from his culture, then it fell to him to teach her."

Verin took a deep breath and cursed the memories that surfaced without bidding. "She's not wrong." His answered came out as a snort of contempt, but he figured Aric deserved to know. "Cinlat was a pit fighter, already tough as nails when I met her. But, when she told about the time one of her crew was lured into a trap—her lack of experience in that area became apparent. He was Mando'ade, but the situation troubled her." Verin kept his eyes straight, but the neon lights couldn't hide the vision of his wife's battered features, the feel of her blood on his knuckles, or the scream echoing through the ship when she finally broke. These things were burned into his mind.

"I did my duty as a husband," Verin stated flatly. He was desperate to hide just how deeply those weeks troubled him. "It's a dangerous life we live." He left off that generally speaking, the rule went the other way too. Had Aric not been a soldier, it would have been Fynta's responsibility to ensure that he could hold his own.

"She consented?" Aric asked, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgement out of his voice.

Verin wasn't as tall as Aric, but he had a solid and could hold his own. He squared his shoulders and faced the Cathar. "Does that really surprise you?"

Aric stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. "Not really, it's what Fynta would have done." A strange tension bled out of Verin at the knowledge that Aric believed him. That he didn't get off on beating women.

Verin covered the moment with a forced chuckle. "You know my sister better than I thought." He wondered if Aric would have the will to do something of the sort if Fynta asked him, to purposefully injure her in preparation for the future. Probably not, he decided. Cathar males might be warriors, but they viewed their mates in a different light than Mandalorians. Not to mention, Aric Jorgan clearly had a strong protective streak in him.

Verin was on the verge of asking what sort of conditioning SpecForce soldiers went through when Aric's wrist comm chirped. "Meet me at the Thunderclap, I've got a lead."

The two men shared a brief look before Aric responded. "On our way." Verin spun around to collect him armor and weapons. He grabbed a few hidden weapons that he'd stashed in the apartment, and bet that Fynta never knew about. All the while, only one thought ran through his mind. 

On our way, Cin.

[cinlat]

Soul of the Bes’Bev - Ch 1 (Duty Calls)

Bes'bev, a traditional Mandalorian flute, was a weapon of elegance and beauty, though formidable in battle. At one end, it is cut to a sharp tip, similar to a quill stylus, and this bladed point made the instrument ideal for deep puncture wounds. Forged from beskar, it can also be hefted as a club should the need arise.

Summary: There are times when the bonds of family are stretched to breaking. These moments either make a Mandalorian aliit stronger, or destroy it completely.

Rating: M

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and torture. Mild Language.

Words: 3,728 

Chapters: 1/?

Author's Note: This story is loosely tied to Family Is More Than Blood. I wrote it nearly two years ago, and finally decided to edit it. The timeline is set somewhere between Tython and Rishi, and there might be a few minor discrepancies that I've chosen to overlook because I didn't want to lose them. Otherwise, I tried to make it fit in with the ongoing story as best as possible.

Read more under the cut

Ithor Honeymoon Suite 09:00

Fynta rolled over with the satisfied sigh. Maybe it was a little late for a honeymoon, but Aric had finally gotten his dream vacation on Ithor. They were on day three of a well-earned, two week vacation. Whereas the concept of a honeymoon might not be a part of Fynta's culture, she certainly didn't mind humoring her husband. Especially after he'd waited nearly a year for it.

Jorgan propped himself on an elbow and smiled down at Fynta. She couldn't help but laugh at the absolute cheesiness in it, such a rare state for the Cathar. Aric only wore that expression after one of his new tricks worked out better than he anticipated, and Fynta had never minded being his muse for new and exciting experiments in bed.

Fynta pulled the blankets to her shoulders and looked out the window behind Jorgan. He rolled onto his back to see what had grabbed her attention and sighed contentedly as his arm folded on the pillow behind his head. "Nice view, isn't it?"

Jorgan had called in a few old favors with some buddies from his time as ops commander to get them a room close to the ground. It even had a waterfall outside the window. No one was allowed on the surface of Ithor, of course, but a few of the pricier resorts offered rooms nestled just above the trees. What's more, Jorgan had managed to keep Fynta in the dark about their destination right up until they dropped out of hyperspace. The creative ways that he kept her from sneaking onto the bridge to snoop through the navisystem still made her smile.

"MmHm," Fynta muttered as she stretched, then folded her arms over his chest and propped her chin on her hands. "Outside's not bad either." She felt Aric's laugh rumble through his chest before she heard it. He'd been a different man here; relaxed and playful. Not at all the strict lieutenant she'd met on Ord Mantell. Once they were back on duty though, Fynta knew he would revert. Which was fine, she'd fallen for that Aric Jorgan, the playfulness was a bonus.

"It's nice to get away," Fynta continued as his arm slid around her back. "And, I can't think of a more relaxing venue. You did good, riduur."

Aric's eye drifted shut, and a light smile touched his lips. He'd wanted this vacation for a while, and Fynta got the impression that this desire went further back than their discussion before Corellia. That this had always been the place he envisioned bringing his lifemate. As she studied her husband in this rare state of peace, Fynta realized that he looked younger. The patterns around his eyes and mouth smoothed into gentle curves instead of harsh lines of black against his golden fur. Maybe that's all he needed, a good shag and a vacation. The idea made her snicker, and he slid one gorgeous blue eye open. "What?"

"Just thinking." That Vik might have been right all those years ago. She wisely kept those words to herself, of course. The Weequay had never missed an opportunity to blame Jorgan's strict attitude on his lack of a sex life.

Both eyes opened, and Aric searched Fynta's face lazily before shutting them again. "You miss them yet?"

Fynta ran her fingers over Jorgan's chest, delighting in the contrast between soft and hard. They'd left the rest of the squad behind for the first time in nearly a year. Everyone had been so busy after the attacks on Korriban and Tython. Since they were just sitting on their hands waiting for Theron's call anyway, might as well take some time off.

"I'm sure their fine," Fynta answered, forcing her thoughts back to her squad mates. Vik had decided to stay on Nar Shaddaa while Yuun went home to visit. Dorne and Cormac were enjoying their time somewhere off the map too. "A little," Fynta finally admitted with a half-smile. She'd started drawing patterns in Aric's fur, and he huffed in annoyance when she snickered. "But, I'm in no hurry to get back. The war will still be there when we return."

Normally, that would be a depressing thought, but they were soldiers by nature. Without war, they were out of a job, and Fynta had no purpose. Being Mandalorian meant everything to her, but she doubted her brothers and sisters would welcome her back into the fold after more than a decade as a Republic soldier.

"I vote for ordering room service and skipping the play in favor of staying in bed," Aric stated as he stretched. Fynta had always found it to be an impressive sight, the way his muscles moved under the thin layer of fur that accentuated ridges usually hidden. "There's an encore tomorrow," he continued as he settled into the mattress again. "Besides, I've got plans for y—"

Jorgan's ears perked to a sound Fynta hadn't heard. Head tilted to the side, the Cathar cut his eyes at her while listening. She strained to catch the faint chirping of a device that shouldn't be on. With an annoyed grunt, Aric leaned over the side of the bed. He dug through the ramshackled sheets and came up with her personal comm. The one she'd left on in case of emergencies, and had completely forgotten about.

The device chirped again. They both stared at it. "I don't think they are going away," Aric groused, casting Fynta an accusatory glance.

Fynta swore and pulled on the first shirt she grabbed, which turned out to be Jorgan's, snatched the comm, and crossed the room to keep him out of the line of sight. "Wolfe," she answered in her most annoyed tone.

"Hey, doll," Balkar replied with a lopsided grin.

Fynta didn't even bother hiding her surprise. "Jonas? How did you get this frequency?" No one in her squad was foolish enough to give up her personal holo, not even Vik.

"SIS, remember?" Balkar answered. Jorgan raised a brow at Fynta from where he laid on the bed. "I've been trying to reach you for two days. Garza's not happy, by the way," Balkar continued. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me."

"Can it wait? We've only been on leave for three days." Fynta knew she sounded petulant, but damn it, Aric had worked hard to get them this suite. Not to mention, she was more than a little curious about what his plans had been. He'd wanted to see that play since it had been announced.

Jonas narrowed his eyes, his flirtatious demeanor slipping for a moment. "Yeah, sorry to interrupt—whatever you were doing." Fynta leveled him with a glare. Her hair was no doubt in shambles, and she clearly wore a man's shirt. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she'd been doing. "I've got ten dead SIS agents, and a rogue Mandalorian." He relaxed a little, smile slipping back into place. "I know who to call when Mandalorians are involved, I've got unrestricted access to your file now, remember?"

Fynta winced. It was her own fault, she'd requested a copy to give to Jorgan, and Balkar had been the only person she trusted to transmit the file. Besides, he'd been actively decrypting it for more than two years. He'd have unlocked it eventually. "Anyway, Garza loaned you out to me. So, if you could throw on that sexy armor and get your ass down here to Nar Shaddaa, I'd be much obliged."

Fynta made eye contact with Jorgan, cringing inwardly as that peace washed away before her eyes. "Do you need the entire squad?" She asked with a sigh. There really wasn't another option, Balkar had orders from General Garza.

"These people are your specialty, whatever you think you need." Balkar's tone took on a more serious note. "I really appreciate this, Fynta. Oh, and congratulations." Then, the call ended, leaving Fynta momentarily dumbstruck.

"You think he knows?" Aric asked, echoing her own thoughts.

Jonas was an exceptional SIS agent, and he'd accused Aric of having a thing for her once, but that still seemed like quite a leap. They'd been careful, no outward signs of affection in public. "Let's not assume, at the moment," she finally decided. "He could mean any number of things, the promotion, our success on Tython, even taking out Rakton. The SIS are like fortune tellers, they throw out little bits of information and wait for their victim to fill in the blanks." Fynta nodded sternly. "No, we'll act the same as always."

Aric climbed from the bed and crossed the room to kiss Fynta's forehead. He inhaled deeply, and she intentionally dropped her voice an octive. "So, what were those plans you had?"

The Cathar's eyes darkened. "I think we've got time for one of them."

Nar Shaddaa 20:00

Balic sat in a little dinner in the spaceport with Elara. At first, he had been annoyed by Fynta's call. Then again when he found out that she planned to leave Vik and Yuun out of it, effectively understaffing them. But, when she mentioned they'd be chasing down a Mandalorian who'd killed ten SIS agents, well, Cormac thought that sounded like fun. If they wrapped it up quickly, he and Elara could get back to their vacation, and he'd have some interesting new experiences.

To pass the time, Cormac watched the passersby while Elara researched varying ways of tracking down elusive Mandalorians. One Twi'lek in a business suit bumped a human who had been more interested in his conversation with the female Nautolan on his arm than his surroundings. The two men started yelling at one another until the female dumped her caf over the Twi'lek's expensive duds. It took three spaceport security guards to haul the two men apart, and the woman was arrested as an accomplice. Cormac chuckled as he thought back to the major's promise years ago that Nar Shaddaa would never be dull.

The bustling crowd parted further down the passage, and two figures in beskar'gam appeared in the gap. It didn't matter if their Havoc badges were showing or not, people here got out of the way. Cormac knocked on the table to get Elara's attention as the commanders drew closer to their table. "Hey, boss. How was your leave?"

"Short," Fynta answered. "I'd like to wrap this up quickly so I can get back to it."

"Where did you finally decide to go?" Elara asked without looking up from her datapad.

"Ithor," Jorgan answered, and Cormac thought the Cathar looked a little triumphant at having been able to keep their destination a secret.

Fynta flashed an endearing smile, one that made her look a lot more refreshed than she had last week. "How about you two?" she asked, picking at Elara's half eaten breakfast.

"Yes, sir," Elara nodded, moving the plate closer to the major.

His wife had yet to look up from that bloody device, so Balic peaked over the edge to see what had her so captivated. "Apartments?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Elara finally looked up, and her expression one of annoyance, rather than embarrassment. "I thought we might need a place away from the SIS to plan our operation." She scowled at the datapad again. "But, these prices are outrageous."

Cormac caught a meaningful glance pass between the commanders. "That's a good idea, Dorne," Fynta began. "But, let's hold off on that for the time being. Just until we get the details from Balkar." Jorgan usually tensed when someone said the SIS agent's name. Balic wasn't sure what had gone on between them, but the Cathar definitely didn't like the guy.

Elara had mentioned that the last time they'd met Agent Balkar the Slippery Slopes Cantina. This time, they were called directly into the official SIS office in the Republic Embassy. Balkar, a man Cormac had only seen from a distance or in holos, waited in the lobby. "Ah, Major!" The man had a dashing smile, great hair, smooth voice, and roguish charm. Cormac finally understand why the captain had taken an immediate disliking to him. He was everything Jorgan wasn't, and Elara warned Balic that Fynta had a tendency to match his wit.

"If it isn't my favorite woman in the galaxy." Balkar grabbed Fynta by the shoulders, still smiling. "We never did get those drinks, but now I'm hearing rumors that you're off limits?"

Fynta's eyebrow arched, but Cormac saw the way her shoulders stiffened. "Mind telling me who's been spreading rumors?"

"You know, here and there," Balkar answered with the dismissive wave. "Alright," he continued, clapping his hands before Fynta could argue.

Balkar ushered them into one of the side rooms and shut the door behind him. "Lieutenant Dorne, I hear congratulations are in order. This must be Balic." Cormac shook the proffered hand before Balkar continued. "I tell you, I'm in the wrong line of work. Looks like Havoc Squad is the place to be if you're lonely. Rumor has it there was something going on between Tavus and that Mirialan assassin of his. Of course, now we'll never really know." Cormac had met that woman face to face. He didn't see the attraction.

Fynta watched Balkar move about the room, getting stuff set up for their briefing, with a wary suspicion. Cormac had to remind himself that a friendly SIS agent was the most dangerous type. "Why did you really call me, Jonas?"

"Can't pull anything over on you, can I?" Balkar replied while he warmed up the holotable in the middle of the room.

Fynta crossed her arms. "SIS, remember?"

"So you were. I heard you picked up quite a few tricks from your time with us. You're CO wasn't happy about losing you. Best record in the squad." Jonas looked suitably impressed. "I'm assuming Cormac and Dorne are here because you trust them?"

Fynta nodded. "What are you playing at?"

"Meet your target." Balkar pressed a button on his datapad, and the image of a thin woman in red and black beskar'gam appeared on the table. Balkar watched Fynta intently, so he probably missed Cormac's moment of surprised recognition.

Fynta stepped closer to examine the image, her face could have been made from stone for all the emotion it displayed. Finally, she nodded. "Cinlat Ejnar." Balic had just recovered from his shock when it hit him all over again to hear the major name the culprit.

"So, you know her?" Balkar asked, tapping away on his datapad.

"Of course." Fynta walked a slow circle around the image of a woman holding out two long barreled blasters. "Adopted by the Mand'alore, winner of the Great Hunt, previously on the Republic's most wanted list, until the Chancellor announced that it had been a Jedi ploy." She stopped and looked Balkar in the eye. "Every Mandalorian worth their credits knows who she is." Fynta nodded towards Elara. "A lot of Imperials know her too."

"It's true, sir. I was responsible for monitoring her activities during my early career with the Imperial military," Elara added. Cormac finally caught on and leaned against the wall to avoid drawing attention to himself. Subtlety wasn't high in his skillset. It would be best to let the women handle this one.

"I wonder what she's doing on Nar Shaddaa," Fynta mused, and Cormac bet that one was an honest question.

Balkar looked a little deflated by Fynta's logical explanation, but plowed forward with the briefing. "We're not sure. She and another, a male of unidentifiable species, broke into a warehouse where we had a sting operation set to take down the Black Sons responsible for smuggling in implants for slave collars."

Balkar pulled up an image of Cinlat's accomplice. "Do you recognize him?"

"His armor looks familiar," Fynta hedged. "I'd heard that she finally got married a few years back."

"Hmm," Balkar scanned through his datapad. "Our intel doesn't have anything about that—nothing official, at least."

Fynta shook her head, braid slapping against her pauldron. "Mandalorians don't need a piece of paper to commit their lives to one another. They have their own customs." She used they and Mandalorians a lot. Cormac realized that she was setting herself apart, distancing her involvement.

"Think you can track them down?" Balkar asked.

"I can. On one condition." Fynta held up a hand to stop the agent's complaint. "You let my squad and I handle this our way. No SIS involvement."

"Fine." Balkar agreed too quickly for Balic's comfort. "But, I get access to visual and audio feeds while you're on the mission." He flashed a rakish smile. "I certainly don't want it when you're off duty anymore."

Fynta actually laughed, but Jorgan didn't look amused. "Deal. Starting tomorrow. My team and I need to plan, and I have people to contact who might be able to expedite this process." She paused. "Are you wanting the targets neutralized or captured?"

Cormac held his breath, wondering if Fynta would really be able to pull the trigger on her brother and his wife. Balkar considered for a moment. "As much as I'd like to place her head on a pike, I think my boss wants her for questioning."

"You do realize Mandalorians aren't likely to break under torture, right?" Fynta commented offhandedly, and it sounded to Balic a lot like she was pressing for the neutralize option. "They train from a young age to resist physical and mental punishment."

"Right," Balkar held up a finger. "But, she wasn't raised Mandalorian, was she? Escaped pit fighter is what I have in my notes. So, she's tough, but not trained."

"If that's her husband," Fynta nodded towards the holo of her brother, "he would have trained her. It's the only decent thing to do given the line of work they're in."

Balkar stared blankly at Fynta. "No shit?" Cormac was pretty sure that his expression mirrored the SIS agent's, and Aric looked appalled. Fynta and Elara were the only ones in the room who seemed immune to the idea of a man torturing his wife for her own good. That said a lot about that the kind of women Cormac found attractive. Dorne was a lot harder case than he'd given her credit for.

Eventually, Balkar found his voice again. "That's not up to me. Try to bring her in alive, but don't get yourself killed in the process. You still owe me one more favor."

They settled on mission specific details, and Havoc filed out into the busy promenade with a massive golden Hutt in the middle. The thing reached from the floor to the ceiling, and Cormac couldn't believe that looters hadn't chiseled chunks out of it.

"Haar'chak!" Fynta swore. She looked at Jorgan, her expression livid. "No choice. I don't trust Balkar to honor our deal."

The Cathar glanced at Balic and Elara before nodding. "I don't think it'll be a problem."

Fynta pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Let's hail a cab. We have a long night ahead of us."

Balic had never given much thought to what it might be like to work in the SIS, but so far, it seemed a lot like the holovids. They switched taxis five times, doubling back twice, until Fynta was finally satisfied that they'd lost the tail that no one else had made. "Sneak bastard," she grumbled. "Should've known better."

The cab came to stop on a personal speeder pad, and Fynta went to the driver's window. She laid her blaster against the window and offered the driver triple the amount. "For your trouble."

The guy glanced at the blaster, then nodded. "Much obliged, this'll go a long way towards that medication for my memory problems."

"Good man." Fynta tapped the top of the cab, and he zoomed off into the dark skyline. When Cormac turned to see where they were, Jorgan already had his hand pressed to a biometric scanner. Fynta swept past when the door opened, and Cormac followed her into a smartly decorated sitting room. The major stopped in the center of the room and spread her arms. "Welcome to my best kept secret, guys."

Cormac stood on the top step to take it all in. "So, this is where you both disappear to whenever we have leave." It had a cozy kitchen-sitting area, a big fireplace—for an actual fire, artwork from around the galaxy, and some of the most comfortable looking couches he'd ever seen. There were even stairs that led down to a private balcony. "Nice"

Elara wandered around the main area, examining the artwork and nodding with approval. "I thought you had a safe house on this planet," she commented as she stopped to take a closer look at the big painting of a guy holding a steel sword. "It's quite lovely, sir."

"Yeah, pretty selfish of me, I know." Although, Fynta didn't look the least bit ashamed. "This place is completely tricked out. Nearly unsliceable."

"How?" Elara asked, tearing her gaze from the image.

Fynta chuckled. "Old tech. Really old. Everything from jammers to one way tinting on the windows. The lower the tech, the more efficient on a planet like this."

"Fascinating." As if on cue, the datapad reappeared in Elara's hand, and Fynta and Cormac grinned at one another.

"Make yourselves at home. You can have the spare room since Cinlat and Verin bought a place out on Tatooine. They won't be needing it." Fynta's tone changed as she stomped over to an old holopad in the corner of the room and typed in a signal that had to be encoded three times.

Aric leaned against the kitchen counter. "This should be interesting." Balic settled on the barstool to see what Jorgan was talking about. Eventually, Elara joined them.

Verin answered on the third ring. "Fynta, now's not a good time." Then, it vanished.

Jorgan took a deep breath. "Uh, oh."

Fynta growled and typed the numbers in again. "Listen, vod'ika, I really don't have time rig-"

"Make time," she spat, cutting her brother off. "Havoc Squad has been called to Nar Shaddaa." Fynta said it in that calm voice that alleged she had seriously considered shooting something.

Verin stared at Fynta in silence, jaw working furiously before deciding that a lie wouldn't fly this time.

"Fierfek."

[cinlat]

Soul of the Bes’bev - Ch 2 (Safe Haven)

Summary: Things don’t exactly go as planned.

Rating: M

Warnings: Mild Language.

Words: 2,503

Chapters: 2/?

Read more under the cut

Nar Shaddaa Safehouse 01:00

Jorgan had never seen Fynta like this. She shouted at her brother via holo in a stream of Mando'a too quick for Jorgan to translate. Every now and then, Fynta would pace away from Verin with hands on hips, only to stomp back with a whole new string of insults. The few words Jorgan could pick up being enough to know that she wasn't pulling any punches.

Verin's rage was no less explosive, and Cormac chuckled a couple of times when spittle spewed from the man's lips. They pointed, stomped feet, and made more than one vulgar hand sign at one another. At one point, Verin fell silent, breathing heavily and face red with anger. Jorgan wondered what might have happened if they'd met in person to discuss this, instead of over holo.

Eventually, Verin stormed out of the image to be replaced by Cinlat. Jorgan heard Cormac suck in a breath. He had been unable to join them on the surface of Tython, and had missed the opportunity to meet the hunters in person after their rescue. Cinlat's countenance was enough to take anyone's breath away. The huntress wore her age well, white eyes glowing in the transmission. The effect was made all the more striking by the equally light hair that tumbled in curls over her shoulders.

"You two done yet?" Cinlat asked dryly, crossing her arms as she stared at Fynta. She still wore her beskar'gam with both rippers held fast in hip holsters. Despite her small size, the woman gave off an air of danger. From what Jorgan had learned from Fynta, Cinlat had grown up on Hutta in the fighting pits. She had three jagged scars down the left half of her face care of a half-starved Cathar competitor. According to Fynta, the huntress refused to talk about that part of her life, but that hadn't kept them all from wondering how such a small woman had defeated a crazed, male Cathar. One thing Jorgan knew for sure, though. While Cinlat might not be Mandalorian by birth, she was no less a threat.

Seeing the way Cinlat glared at her husband as he stalked in and out of the shot in the background, Jorgan wondered about the information Fynta had revealed during their briefing with Balkar. A chill ran down his spine at the idea of Verin ever raising a hand to Cinlat. Jorgan wasn't sure he believed that Verin capable of torturing Cinlat, even if he thought it in her best interest. The man clearly adored his wife. Not to mention, Cinlat would probably shoot him.

"Cinlat. Make the di'kut understand," Fynta pleaded, reverting to basic temporarily, before the two began another round of robust insults.

Elara stood on the other side of Cormac, a pleasant smile on her lips. When he gave her an inquisitive nudge, she sniggered. "This reminds me of Aleksei and myself as children. We fought horribly. My father often threatened to send us to the Sith should we exasperate our mother further."

"I can't imagine that," Balic smirked, earning himself a gentle elbow from his wife. The big man's eyebrows suddenly lifted as he tipped his head towards the arguing siblings. "Wait, do you actually understand all of this?"

Elara nodded. "Most. I've been taking lessons from the major."

"Care to clue us in?" Jorgan asked. He had been resistant to learning Mando'a; the words felt wrong in his mouth. Taking a Mandalorian as his lifemate was bad enough, however, adhering to the culture that nearly wiped out his race felt like crossing an invisible line. Granted, he didn't feel bad about the armor. His beskar'gam was well worth any scorn he might receive from other Cathar.

"Well," Elara began. "Mostly, they are just insulting one another, very creatively, I might add. Verin feels Fynta has no right to chastise him, as he is the elder brother. Yet, Fynta claims him to be a—ah, well, that he had no right to drag her into this mess by killing Republic personnel."

Cormac wrapped an arm around his wife with a smile. "I'm guessing they're using the big kid words now."

"Quite," Dorne responded. "Mando'a is such an efficient language." She covered her mouth to hide a giggle, and both men shared a confused glance. "I believe there was some mention of an incident involving a strill. And, Verin's outrage that she would dredge the occurrence up again." Dorne stopped short, both eyebrows raised. "Oh, my. That wasn't nice at all. I'm concerned Fynta might seek physical reparation for that one."

Cormac guffawed, then snapped his mouth shut before he could draw Fynta's wrath too. "So, they're just having your average roe between siblings?"

"It does sound more serious when yelled in Mando'a, I'll admit," Dorne agreed.

"Verin, ne'johaa!" Cinlat finally demanded over her shoulder. The woman had spent the bulk of the time rubbing her temples while the siblings screamed and flailed about. "Same goes for you, Fynta. Shut up and listen."

Fynta crossed her arms and paced two steps from side to side, but she kept her mouth shut. Jorgan wondered absently if Cinlat would be willing to teach him that trick, or whether he'd ever be capable of muzzling his wife the way the huntress had. Cinlat clearly held the rank of alpha in their small pack. While both Verin and Fynta still glared daggers at each other, they remained silent.

"We were hired to steal the chips back from the Black Sun," Cinlat explained calmly. "There was no mention of a SIS sting, and we didn't realize it until Verin found the wire on one of the non-implanted agents. The hut'uun who hired us only admitted to knowing about it after we—questioned him. Apparently, he was an Imperial broker under orders to get the best deal for their money."

Elara sucked in a breath. "That's barbaric. He had them attack the agents because he knew the Black Sun would charge a higher price for the chips than the bounty hunters for their services."

"Was?" Fynta asked before Jorgan could be truly horrified by Dorne's revelation.

"I might have acted rashly," Cinlat replied, leveling Fynta with a meaningful look.

Fynta scrubbed both hands over her face. "Haar'chak," she hissed again. That word wasn't one she used very often, though Jorgan understood the connotations. After a few minutes of muttering, she dropped her hands with a resigned sigh. "I'm supposed to bring you in alive."

"Hmm, dead would have been better," Cinlat admitted. Verin threw his hands up and stormed out of holo range. Something crashed in the background, and Cinlat rolled her eyes.

"I gave it a go, but they want revenge, not a quick clean up," Fynta added, both women ignoring the continued crashing out of view. "We need a plan that won't end my career or get you killed."

Verin appeared in the shot to whisper in Cinlat's ear. She nodded, then looked back at Fynta. "Well, hell, we've got to move. I'll give you twenty-four hours before next contact, then we discuss options. As of right now, I've got two: We go on the run—again. Or, I turn myself in and hope all those holos about crooked judiciaries aren't true."

"It'll be torture if you go in, Cinlat," Fynta stated, her tone emotionless. Jorgan watched her body language carefully, noting the tension that entered her posture. Even Cormac and Dorne had taken on more subdued countenances.

"I know," Cinlat answered. Though her expression remained serious, her voice sounded reassuring. "We'll talk soon." The holo ended, leaving Fynta to stare at the blank wall behind it.

Jorgan approached his wife, finally realizing why she'd pushed so hard for a neutralization op. "You were planning to fake her death, weren't you?"

"An old trick Cin learned from a former business partner." Fynta waved her hands at nothing in particular and puffed air through her bangs. "Not that it matters now. If we take that route, they'll examine the body and figure it out."

"Not if it's fragmented," Cormac suggested. He'd leaned back in his chair with elbows propped on the bar behind him. "Nothing to examine if there's nothing left."

Fynta shook her head. "A bomb's a little overkill for a capture live mission. It would look suspicious." Though, Jorgan knew Fynta had considered it too. She started pacing, a habit she'd picked up from him. Normally, Fynta was more subdued on missions where the shit hit the fan before the op even started. However, this whole business with the bounty hunters had her rattled.

Aric gave his wife's shoulder a squeeze and went into the kitchen to see if there was anything edible left over from their last visit. All he found were a few bags of beans and a powder that would turn into broth when added to water. It was as good a meal as any, something he felt qualified to cook, anyway.

By 04:00, Cormac had stretched out on the couch and fallen asleep. Elara sat on the floor with her back leaned against it, typing on her datapad, then sighing irritably when her calculations didn't add up. Jorgan doubted she'd take a break anytime soon. Fynta had spent the last two hours exhausting her contact list, but no one wanted to get involved.

Fynta stalked back into the room with a growl of frustration. "Something doesn't sit right with me."

Jorgan and Dorne looked up at the same time, but Elara voiced their mutual question first. "How do you mean?"

"Everyone has suddenly found better work or retired from the game. I'm betting they're being paid off. I just don't know why or by who." Fynta paced the room, her face twisted in a scowl. Jorgan grabbed her hand as she passed the chair he'd claimed. She allowed herself to be pulled into his lap with a sigh.

"It wouldn't be the first time that Cinlat was targeted," Dorne added. Grey eyes flicked towards them briefly before returning to her datapad. Jorgan usually avoided such overt acts of affection in front of the squad. However, they were technically still on leave, and Elara and Balic their guests, not squadmates.

"She's made a lot of enemies in both Imperial and Republic space," Dorne continued, then held out her datapad. "I found this."

Fynta leaned forward to accept the device and held it so that Jorgan could read too. "A bounty?" She remarked as her eyebrows jumped. "Wow, an old one."

"Yes, by at least ten years," Dorne nodded. She waved for her datapad back and swiped a finger across the screen. "It would seem the conditions and payout have changed only recently, though. The benefactor is anonymous."

"I need to talk to Cin and see if she knows who posted it originally." Fynta leaned against Jorgan's chest. Her arm had just settled across his shoulders when suddenly she leapt to her feet. Jorgan wasn't far behind, having heard the speeder that touched down on the patio outside.

Dorne elbowed Cormac, who came awake with a snort, then handed him a blaster. Fynta and Jorgan took up position on either side of the door. He held her Verpine, while Fynta carried an interesting blade that looked more like a musical instrument than weapon. Jorgan met her eyes, muscles tensing as she counted down for the attack. The door opened, and both sprang into action.

"Shab, Fynta, it's me!" Verin held his hands out towards the leveled blaster in Jorgan's hands. Fynta had her arm around his neck, and the tip of the blade against his ribs. Verin's back arched away from the weapon, leaving him unbalanced in her grasp.

Fynta released her brother with a shove. Verin stumbled forward, then turned to see what had been jammed against his side. "Is that buir's bes'bev?" She looked at the weapon in her hand before tossing it to him. Verin caught it, then blew a tune that Jorgan didn't recognize, and let out a humorless laugh. "Ha, it still works. Helps that it isn't clogged with blood anymore, I guess."

"Verin?" Fynta commented expectantly, clouting his ear. Jorgan ensured that the Verpine was pointed in a safe direction when Verin bustled further into the room. "What were you thinking coming here?"

"They've got her, Fyn'ika. They nabbed Cinlat." Verin answered as he flopped into the chair Jorgan had vacated and dropped his head into his hands. "We were changing safe houses, and a shabbing jetii jumped us."

Fynta pulled the curtain to the side to look out the window, making sure her brother hadn't been followed. She met Jorgan's gaze, and he knew she was about to do something stupid. He hoped she'd at least tell him what it was before hand so that he could form a contingency plan.

Jorgan followed Fynta into their room to confirm that she'd grabbed her armor, then returned to the sitting area in time to hear the last bit of Verin's story. The man looked up as Jorgan rounded the corner, and he realized for the first time that the bounty hunter was bleeding. "Your first aid kit, sir?" Dorne requested with a worried glance at their guest. Jorgan nodded towards a cabinet in the kitchen, and the medic hurried to gather the required items.

The sound of muted conversation drifted out of the main bedroom, then Fynta emerged snapping on her chest plate. "I'm going to see if they'll let me sit in on the interrogation. That was Balkar delivering the news."

"I'll come with you." Jorgan made to squeeze past towards their room, but Fynta stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, I need you here and available to move if I call." Fynta's hand moved to his chest as she met his confused gaze. "I can handle the SIS, it's what I'm trained for." They stared at each other a moment before Jorgan finally conceded with a stiff nod. He hated when she went in alone, especially given the stakes, but knew there was little he could do to stop her.

Fynta patted Jorgan's cheek before turning to the rest of the room. "I'll call if I need you."

Cormac, now fully awake, had one hand on Verin's shoulder. The big man looked up at Fynta with a hard expression so seldom seen on his jovial face as to be shocking. "Go get our girl back."

[cinlat]

Soul of the Bes’bev - Ch 4 (Ruses & Candor)

Summary: Jedi Master Notiac Carlo joins the crew and isn't impressed. Cinlat begins to question her life choices.

Rating: M

Warnings: The effects of torture

Words: 2,992

Chapters: 4/7 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4 under the cut.

The Thunderclap 06:46 (Three Hours in SIS Custody)

"Hey, not bad," Verin remarked as they entered the hangar where the Thunderclap sat. "That thing as roomy as it looks?" The bounty hunter radiated energy on a level that rivaled Fynta. Jorgan sympathized with the man. He clearly worried about his wife, but forced a cheerful facade for reasons Jorgan would never understand. Cormac did the same when he was nervous, whereas Fynta fought back with snark, and Dorne with research. Aric wondered if he had a coping mechanism, then remembered his reputation for being a hardass.

"Not with a full squad," Jorgan answered, deciding it was best to drop his previous line of thinking.

Cormac walked on the other side of Verin, casting plaintive glances at his wife. "She hasn't put that bloody thing down since we got here," he whispered, thumbing at the woman in question. All three men turned to examine the medic, then quickly looked away when her brow furrowed at the screen. "Sometimes, I think she loves it more than me."

"What's she looking for?" Verin asked in equally low tones. He and Cormac had hit it off instantly, so much so that Jorgan had the suspicion that this wasn't the first time they'd spoken. He'd always wondered who Balic's mystery contact was on Corellia, and how the bounty hunters had gotten the schematics for Fynta's leg so easily for Dorne to study.

Cormac offered an apologetic shrug. "Any loopholes to get Cinlat out of the pen, but I don't think it's going well." The big man leaned around to catch Jorgan's eye. "Speaking of which, Fynta says we've got something?"

"Why don't we find out." Jorgan nodded to where Fynta stood at the bottom of the ramp with hands on hips. He'd seen that stare before, the one that made it look like she wanted to murder her boots.

"Uh-oh," Cormac murmured, verbalizing Jorgan's concern. "I wonder who she shot."

Verin stopped in front of his sister, his carefully crafted façade slipped, and Jorgan saw real worry on his face. "Something troubling you, Fyn'ika?" The man's voice barely shook, and Jorgan realized that Verin was just another husband. Mandalorian or not, he wanted his wife back, safe and unharmed, no matter how tough he knew her to be.

"Cinlat's holding up," Fynta answered with eyes only for Verin. "They haven't gone too hard on her, just a little smack here and there." Verin breathed a sigh of relief, certainly not the reaction Jorgan had expected. "Don't celebrate too soon," Fynta continued. "We are going to have an extra passenger. Master Notiac Carlo."

Silence followed Fynta's revelation until Dorne looked up, distracted from her datapad in favor of the more immediate question. "Why are the Jedi interested in Cinlat?"

Verin snorted. "That's a long story. One I thought we had sorted when the Chancellor cleared Cin's name."

"Does this have to do with your stint on the Republic's most wanted list?" Fynta asked, arms crossed over her chest. Verin mirrored her stance in defiance of the accusation. Cormac snickered, then coughed to cover it. Even Jorgan had to admit that seeing the two together had explained a lot about Fynta's personality. Verin was equally stubborn and twice as foul mouthed as his sister.

"Master Carlo is the one who apprehended Cinlat," Fynta explained. Verin tensed instantly, his fists balling against his legs. Fynta ignored the way one of those hands drifted towards his blaster. "She is accompanying us on Balkar's orders to flesh out who is really responsible for the attack on the SIS agents."

The major kept her attention on Verin. "Do you understand what this means?"

"Yeah," he replied and slammed his helmet on before stomping up the ramp.

"Sure, make yourself at home," Fynta muttered at his back. After taking a deep breath, she returned her attention to the others. "I need everyone to help me make sure he doesn't attack her."

Cormac slapped Fynta's shoulder as he passed. "We'll keep him in order, boss."

Jorgan waited until the others vanished inside before asking his question. "Honeymoon's over, I take it?" He'd mentioned the idea of going public once or twice, but Fynta had been hesitant. She worried about recriminations that went beyond their careers, and he hadn't pushed.

"Unfortunately," his wife sighed. "We're going to have to be careful with a Jedi around. Especially one that we know nothing about. And, she can't know about Verin, either."

Jorgan nodded, squeezing Fynta's upper arm. He considered leaning in to kiss her forehead, but stopped when he remembered the cameras in the hangar. "I'll move enough of my gear into the barracks to make it look believable," he settled for instead. "It'll be over soon enough."

The strike team got underway within an hour. Jorgan's gut twisted uncomfortably when the floor shifted under his feet, but it had nothing to do with entering hyperspace. He stared at the pile of effects in his old locker and dreaded the next few nights of sleeping alone in his bunk. With a resigned sigh, Jorgan shut the door harder than necessary and strode from the room. He nearly collided with the Jedi outside the entranceway.

Notiac Carlo was a Miralukan woman. She had rich, brown skin with auburn hair, and a tastefully jeweled mask that appeared elegant enough to distract the viewer from the fact that it covered her lack of eyes. "Captain Jorgan, correct?"

Jorgan had never understood how Miraluka saw the galaxy. He knew it had something to do with the Force, that each of them were connected to it in some manner. "Master Carlo," he answered with a stiff spine. A salute might be lost on her, or it might not. Jorgan didn't plan on taking that chance. "Are you finding everything to your liking?"

"My accommodations are perfectly acceptable, thank you," the Jedi responded with a politeness expected of a dignitary such as the Barsen'thor. While Jorgan by no means considered himself an expert on the ways of Force users, the fact that Master Carlo's title had been given to so few people signaled its importance. It also begged the question of why she was on a mission clearly below her status.

"I am quite accustomed to crowded ships, I assure you," Master Carlo continued.

Jorgan cleared his throat. "Of course, your diplomatic missions with the Rift Alliance made for interesting reading." Anyone who could corral that many politicians was to be either feared or respected. Jorgan had yet to decide which. He'd heard of her when she received the title; front page news material.

Notiac offered a small smile. "Yes, they certainly kept me on my toes. My crew was to be commended on their tolerance of so many guests constantly tramping through their personal space."

"Naturally," Jorgan responded. He understood the Jedi's meaning; that she knew her presence aboard the Thunderclap wasn't welcome. "Feel free to explore as you want. No one will complain."

"I believe your Mandalorian tracker would disagree, but that is neither here, nor there," Master Carlo laughed with a wave of her hand. They'd settled on the story of Verin being a specialized hunter who made his name in taking down rogue Mando targets. It wasn't completely false, he and Cinlat had once hunted a member of Death Watch.

Jorgan glanced over the Jedi's shoulder to spot Fynta waving him towards the holoprojector. "We'll ensure that Verin doesn't bother you, Master Jedi."

"Notiac, please," she smiled. "But, I've kept you from your duties too long. My apologies." The Jedi tipped her head gracefully and continued past Jorgan towards the conference room. Somehow, he got the impression that the Jedi had gathered more information than she had given.

When Jorgan entered the main room, Fynta had everyone gathered around the holoterminal. "Alright, people, time to make a plan."

"Why?" Cormac leaned against the medbay door with his arms crossed and grinned. "We'll just change it when we get there."

"Better to change a plan, than to have to start from scratch," Fynta shot back. She relayed mission critical information as if the rest of them had just been called in. The Jedi slipped silently into the briefing and listened as if this were all new to her, as well. Jorgan kept Notiac in his peripheral to gauge her reactions, though found it difficult through the mask that covered half of her face.

"This particular hunter is known for taking live targets," Dorne added when Fynta finished. "Her attack on SIS personnel makes no sense."

Notiac cleared her throat, and all eyes turned towards the Jedi. "Might I ask how you know so much about the prisoner, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, Master Carlo. Imperial youth from families already established in the military are screened for children who show aptitude for the same career." Dorne's explanation came across as entirely clinical. "I was brought in to monitor the Great Hunt when I was young while they were on Dromund Kaas. I was assigned to the bounty hunter Cinlat Ejnar." No one mentioned Tython, including the Jedi.

"Fascinating." Notiac waved her hand for the briefing to continue without further comment.

Dorne nodded, apparently convinced that her explanation satisfied the Jedi's curiosity. "There is more than one death mark against Mrs. Ejnar from the Empire due to her recent sympathies towards the Republic. This could be a retaliatory strike if she is, indeed, innocent."

Fynta typed in the command to pull up the image of a planet on the terminal. "She claims the offer originated from Tatooine. So, we are headed that way to see what we can find out."

"This all hinges on the word of a bounty hunter," Jorgan added, just for show. Generally speaking, he avoided situations that hinged on his ability to lie. The only course of action would be to treat this briefing as authentic. It wouldn't do for the second in command to remain silent. "It could be a wild convor chase, however, if the Empire has managed to gain access to SIS sensitive data, it poses a serious threat to the rest of the Republic. We can't afford to ignore the possibility."

Fynta acknowledged Jorgan's input with a nod before bringing the meetings to a close. "I'm assuming introductions have been made?" A resounding chorus of affirmation went around the room. "Good. Now, we've got soldiers, Jedi, and a Mandalorian all crammed into one ship. I expect everyone to behave themselves and work as a team." She lingered on Verin, who'd remained silent throughout the charade. "That's all I have until we reach Anchorhead. Make sure your weapons are clean and loaded, and kit is packed."

Jorgan started for the bridge, hoping to speak with Fynta privately in order to get their story straight. "Major, a word?"

Jorgan stopped on the second stair out of habit. Fynta waited on the floor for the Jedi to speak. The Miraluka tipped her head to the side as if listening for the footfalls of the others to fade away. When she was satisfied, Notiac turned her expressionless mask back on the commanders. "I'll check the chrono, sir," Jorgan commented with the realization that he hadn't been invited to the conversation.

"No need, Captain," Notiac remarked. Her voice carried the hard note of authority, nothing like the kindness Jorgan heard earlier. "This involves you, as well."

Fynta and Aric shared a glance before the former crossed her arms. "Very well, say what you've come to say, Master Jedi." The major shifted her weight in order to face Notiac head on; a dominant stance.

"Let's not stand on circumstance," Notiac continued. "I can see the ties that bind this squad, perhaps stronger than your average military unit, but understandable given Havoc Squad's reputation." Fynta crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "However, that does not explain the tether I sense between you and the male."

Jorgan tensed as the Jedi continued to lay out her method of deduction. "Your heritage is not recorded in your file, however, you have made a name for yourself, and soldiers do gossip." Notiac clasped her hands before her, the woman's countenance serene as she spoke. "I have a colleague who has heard interesting things, Major Wolfe. Rumors I had discounted until meeting your brother."

Fynta narrowed her eyes at the Jedi. "Not sure I follow."

"You and Mr. Verin leave similar wakes within the Force. Dark violence covered in bright flashes of emotion." Notiac recounted her findings with a casualness that made Jorgan nervous. "The relation is clear to someone who knows what to look for, as is your mark on Captain Jorgan."

Aric's blood felt as though it dropped to his feet. Notiac tsked and waved a hand. "Hear me when I assure you that I have no interest in outing your family or illicit romance. One thing I value above all else is honesty. I'm sure that is something you can appreciate, Major."

"What do you want?" Fynta asked, her voice deadly calm.

"Be at ease, I am not threatening you. I merely felt it important to inform you that I am aware of your ruse, and that it is unnecessary." Notiac tipped her head. "I hope that we find what you're looking for on Tatooine. It would be nice to know that your brother and his wife are innocent. I'll leave you to disclose this to your crew at your leisure and retire to my room."

Fynta and Jorgan watched the Jedi vanish into the conference room in silence. Neither moved until the door slid shut, and even then, it took a few seconds before Fynta found her voice. "Fierfek, that could have gone better."

"Could have gone worse too," Jorgan added.

Fynta nodded, then met his eyes. "Shab, Aric. I really hope I know what I'm doing."

Nar Shaddaa Undisclosed SIS Holding Facility

Cinlat shivered violently, her muscles cramping from whatever drug they'd injected her with. A drop of sweat ran down her nose to join the puddle on the floor. She focused on each drip to pass the time. Even while her blood felt as if it was boiling in her veins, the fan overhead ensure that her now bare skill remained cold. Doesn't matter, she thought, gritting her teeth as she attempted to straighten her spine. Verin's safe, and they've got something in the works.

The SIS agents no longer questioned Cinlat. The Rattataki interrogator had been replaced by a Rodian who dealt with needles instead of his fists. After her last round, they'd left her in a dark room cuffed to a chair with one leg cut too short. Every time the huntress felt herself drifting into sleep, her body would relax and tip her chair precariously to one side. She'd jerk awake, muscles screaming with the agony of holding herself upright.

A steady hum reverberated through the floor, and Cinlat barely bit back her groan. With a loud pop, an industrial cooling system kicked on, flooding the room with frigid air. Cinlat's teeth chattered despite her attempts to stop them, and she became painfully aware of every knitted bone in her body.

Still, no one came. Maybe they expected Cinlat to beg or call out for help. The very idea enraged the huntress enough to shock her back to awareness. The concoction made her mind sluggish, and she scolded herself for allowing it to happen. The Jedi should have been obvious, but Cinlat had overlooked the threat and gotten what she deserved.

Replaying the scene in her mind helped Cinlat focus. She and Verin had gathered their weapons and were strolling through the promenade when the Jedi struck. There hadn't been any fanfare or talks of surrender. One moment, Cinlat had been walking with her husband, the next, she couldn't move. Images of the dead faces of Republic personnel flashed through her mind as if evidence of her guilt, and then she woke up in the interrogation room. The only reason Cinlat knew that her captor had been a Jedi was due to Verin's shouting. Even the memory sounded muted, as if the entire instance had taken place under water.

Light burned Cinlat's eyes, yanking her from her numbed state. "You look a little thirsty," the male voice said over the speakers built into the ceiling. Cinlat heard laughter in it, and hated him for enjoying her anguish. She'd always considered herself fair when it came to her marks, but if she ever discovered who the bastard was at the controls, she'd happily gut him, then feed his entrails to his cohorts. These thoughts were darker than Cinlat's usual wish for revenge, but she'd had a lousy day, and so allowed herself this one comfort.

As expected, the sprinkler system switched on overhead, and Cinlat sucked in a breath when the cold water hit her skin. She wore little more than her underclothes, and those had been soaked through three times over. Even knowing what to expect didn't keep her from gasping every time.

The water switched off, and the man on the intercom yawned. "Hope you got your fill. Let's dry you off." The air currents intensified, and a small whimper escaped Cinlat's lips as she tried to curl in on herself to hold in as much heat as possible. Eventually, the man would grow bored with pushing buttons, she just had to last that long.

[cinlat]

OCs Cuddle Tag

Rules: For each of your OCs, rate how cuddleable they are on a scale of 1-10.

Tagged by: @tishinada (okay, this looks like fun)

Tagging: @villainship @aliyamirat @sunsetofdoom @brehha-swtor and @kunoichi-ume

*cracks knuckles* This might take a moment...I think I’ll stick with first generation.

Fynta Wolfe (Republic Trooper): *Artwork by dingoat​

Fynta gets a solid 8, now: Cuddling is new to Fynta. She’s always been up for sex, but letting someone touch her body while sleeping or relaxing has always been an absolute no-go. However, once a certain, surly Cathar entered her life, all of Fynta’s preconceived notions of romance were turned on their head. Now, she loves nothing more than to lay in Jorgan’s arms and feel his fingers playing in her hair.

Kadu Jadon (Jedi Consular): *Artwork by dingoat

Kadu​ get a well-earned 10. This fluffy surfer Jedi dude was cuddling his now wife long before either of them admitted their feelings, simply because it made her feel better. As the former Barsen’thor, his inclination has always been towards peace. After stepping down from the council and following his heart into the healing arts, the ability to touch others in a soothing manner often helped his patients heal faster. That was played to his benefit all the more after receiving Jurr as his ward. It didn’t take long for the normally suspicious soldier to find that her favorite way to relax was nestled between his arms and legs with her back against his chest. Often times, they wouldn’t even speak while she drew and he read. Eventually (after a looooong time of pining) it turned into a romance, and the cuddling only became more intimate. 

Ma’at Stasma (Sith Inquisitor): *artwork by the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

Ma’at is giddy at a 9. Ma’at was convinced from an early age that the most she could hope for was a husband who wouldn’t try to kill her. As the daughter of a prominent Sith family (I took liberties with the slave theme and made it more about duty and responsibility than the literal interpretation of the word) She was promised to Tuathal (The Emperor’s Wrath) through an agreement between their parents. Once they met, they fell madly in love, and she finally let her guard drop. While Tuathal is her beloved and respected husband, not to mention father of four of her children, including their heir, her love expanded to others down the road. Talos kept Ma’at from growing lonely while part from her husband, and fathered her second oldest son. Later, Lana stole another piece of Ma’at’s heart through her calm logic and clever wit. Once her trust is earned, Ma’at is loyal to a fault and willing to share everything.

Zolah Holran (Imperial Agent): 

Zolah gets a 3. As a spy, cuddling was always a hazard, or a tool. While she trusts Vector and Theron implicitly, years of light sleeping has made it difficult to relax while another person touches her. This doesn’t mean that she won’t wrap her arms and legs around either man in her sleep, but Theron equates that more to a military move than proper cuddling. 

Notiac Carlo (Jedi Consular):

This one took a while, but Notiac finally worked herself up to a 5. Strict adherence to the Jedi Code made this connection with Lana difficult, but luckily, Sith are a stubborn lot. After months of Lana’s gentle encouragement and quiet advances, Notiac finally let down her guard enough to accept a Sith’s affection. She is still uncomfortable with public displays of affection, though has graduated to not flinching when Lana’s hand brushes hers while they work. In private, she loves nothing more than to settle on a sofa with a glass of wine and watch a holovid with her lover’s arm entwined with hers.

Cinlat & Verin Ejnar (Bounty Hunters):

Cinlat gets a 2, while Verin would love a higher number. Let’s go with a 7. Cinlat’s no nonsense personality, combined with an early life as a pit fighter on Hutta, made for a code disposition that didn’t lend towards an easy relationship. Verin still fell stupidly in love with his badass boss (he totally has a thing for older women, too). While he’d had loved to have spent hours in her arms, he respected that Cinlat wasn’t fond of being touched. She showed her love with playful barbs, and shooting anyone who looked at him wrong.

Hira’niafan (Smuggler):

Despite her cantankerous disposition, Hirani is a cuddlebug. She gets a 6, simply for being a bitch. Koth doesn’t mind her sharp tongue, most of the time. These two can go from sweet kisses, to shouting, in a matter of seconds. No matter the grievance, they work well as a team, always come back to each other, and usually resume where they left off. Hirani likes to prop her feet across Koth’s lap while they relax and let his fingers massage her lekku. 

Kaeto Vaa & Kozen (Jedi Knight/Sith Warrior):

These two get a combined 3. Physical contact is less of the thing than mental contact. Kaeto and Kozen literally live inside one another’s head. They accidentally created a Force bond that can’t be severed while both live, and it has led to a strange sort of love between them. While both sexual creatures, the intimacy comes from their combined meditations where they open their minds to one another.

Balic Cormac (Republic Trooper):

Cormac gets a 10. There is no way this giant puppy could get anything other than the highest score. Whether it’s spooning with his wife, Elara, chilling with his best friend, Fynta, or watching cartoons with his son, Tayl, physical touch is important. Even Jorgan has given up fighting Cormac’s “bro-hugs”. Oormac needs everyone around him to know that they are loved and appreciated, and he’s not ashamed to be the one who tells them. 

Sadio Edan (Smuggler):

I’m going to rank Sadio as a 7. She’s not afraid of physical affection, but she’s cautious with whom she shares it. Torian was the exception to that rule, and managed to worm inside her defenses a lot faster than she expected. Given their respective jobs keep them apart, these two make the best of everything during the stolen days in between missions. 

Solish Rasik (Sith Inquisitor):

Solish gets a 4 simply because her cuddling usually involves claws. Luckily, she found the right kind of masochist in Andronikos. She isn’t likely to crawl into his lap and go to sleep, but after sex, Solish is as pliable as a kitten. Andronikos has all the scars to prove it, and thinks it’s adorable that she kneads him while falling asleep. He’d never admit that out loud, of course. 

Nahir Par-Jorgan (Republic Trooper): 

Being raised in a Cathar family, Nahir gets a 9. Physical touch and grooming are a large part of her relationship with Aric and their triplets. Cheek rubbing, scalp scratching, and all other manner of touch are important ways of showing affection. Nahir sleeps best when she’s completely wrapped in her lifemate’s arms.

Mama Wanda (Bounty Hunter): 

Being past her prime can’t keep Wanda from enjoying life’s little pleasures. She gets a 7. Until Bey’way Aygo, Wanda hadn’t found another male who could hold a candle to her departed husband. This scruffy, sharp-witted Bothan Admiral stole her heart with a sheepish grin and a bottle of whiskey. Even with her adoration of the male, all cuddling ceases at bedtime and her joints demand a pillow between her knees to soothe aching hips, and another at her back to keep from rolling over and aggravating an old injury. With his own career in the military, Bey’wan has his own bedtime routine. While awake, though, these two are not afraid to hold hands and kiss cheeks in front of the young guns. 

Let’a Payach (Buff Avacado):

I’m still learning this one, but I think Let’a probably gets a 6. She adores her giant lug of a husband, and has no problem cuddling up to him for a late night holovid. If they’ve been working out and he stinks, all bets are off until after the shower. Likewise, if she’s hot or uncomfortable at all, she doesn’t want to be touched and might lash out if Ripn doesn’t take the hint.

Verin & Keshal (Mandalorians): 

Verin finally gets his 7 through his second marriage to Keshal, who earns an 8. After losing Cinlat on Yavin 4, Verin vowed to never let his woman out of his sight without her knowing just how much he cherished her. When they first met, Keshal and Verin were constantly at each other’s throats. After their married, Verin was thrilled to discover that his new wife loved massages, head rubs, and foot rubs. Keshal was likewise excited to find a man who was willing to give her those things as her previous husband had a thing against touching feet. That became even more important when she became pregnant with their first child. While too old for fatherly hugs, Verin finds other way to show his adopted son affection, and Tranx can’t escape Keshal’s rib cracking embraces no matter how far he runs. 

[cinlat]

Verin and Cinlat for the World Building meme!

B A S I C S

full name: Cinlat Ejnar 

gender: female

sexuality: hetero

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Verin Ejnar and Fynta Wolfe (by assimilation)

birthplace: Hutta

job: Bounty Hunter

phobias: being rendered powerless/becoming a slave again - failure

guilty pleasures: stealing Verin’s caf 

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: true neutral 

sins - pride

virtues - diligence/patience

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: introvert

organized/disorganized: organized

close minded/open-minded: close-minded

calm/anxious: calm 

disagreeable/agreeable: neither

cautious/reckless: cautious

patient/impatient: patient

outspoken/reserved: reserved

leader/follower: leader

empathetic/unemphatic: unemphatic 

optimistic/pessimistic: realist

traditional/modern: modern

hard-working/lazy: hard-working

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Cinlat/Verin (naturally)

ot3: she barely let Verin in, another person isn’t happening

brotp: Cinlat and Jorgan - it’s weird, but it works

notp: basically anyone with the Force

[cinlat]

OCs Flirting!

Rules: Post gifs of your OC’s flirting !

I was tagged by @kunoichi-ume I don’t remember when and will choose my top four favorites at the moment. 

Fynta Wolfe - Mandalorian Republic Trooper

Verin Ejnar - Mandalorian Bounty Hunter (Fynta’s big brother)

Zolah Holran - Chiss Imperial Agent

Trev Brawlin - Cyborg Jedi Knight

I’m going to tag @salaciouscrumpet @chivalin @aliyamirat (if you guys don’t want to go again, no problem, I just hadn’t seen yours yet.)

[cinlat]

Fictober18 - day 17

Prompt: “I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to like it.” Word Count: 256 (It’s been a long day) Fandom: swtor Characters: Fynta Wolfe/Aric Jorgan (cameo by Verin Ejnar)

Jorgan glanced up when his wife groaned. Part of him wanted to rail against her stupidity, the other smirked with satisfaction at the deep bruising that blended into the target shaped tattoo around her right eye.

“Fierfek.”

The familiar expletive pulled a snort from Aric. It was the first thing Fynta always said after regaining consciousness. “Yep,” he answered, failing at keeping his tone neutral.

The Cathar watched his wife push herself upright, then blink at the hotel room. Her eyes settled on a lump in the corner, brows pulling together. “Verin?”

“Mm-hm,” Aric acknowledged again before going back to the work on his datapad. “Cinlat said that she didn’t have time for your osik, and dumped him here.” He glanced towards the still slumbering bounty hunter. “Hell if I know what she expects me to do with him.”

Fynta didn’t speak for several minutes while she stared at her brother. Jorgan swore that he could almost hear her working through the hazy memories from the night before.

Explosive laughter startled Aric’s attention back to his wife, causing him to snarl at her wide grin. “Who won?”

With a sigh, Jorgan followed Fynta’s gaze to the still sleeping Mandalorian. She would never learn to leave well enough alone. Might as well have fun with it. Aric cut his eyes at Fynta with a sharp grin. “I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to like it.”

[cinlat]

Soul of the Bes’bev - Ch 5 (Hard as Beskar)

Summary: Fynta reveals a little of her former life, and no one is comfortable with it. Meanwhile, things start to get worse for Cinlat.

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence & mild language

Words: 3,628

Chapters: 5/7

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5 under the cut.

Tatooine 21:00 (Six days in SIS custody)

By Fynta's count, they still had eight days left to wrap up this mission. Unfortunately, that meant Cinlat had already been at the mercy of vengeful SIS for nearly a week. Had her brother not already been out of sorts throughout the entire trip to the desert planet, and the revelation that their Jedi minder hadn't been fooled by their charade, Fynta would have clouted Verin for not mentioning Tatooine sooner. He only remembered that detail once they'd been underway, claiming that he hadn't been in on the meeting, and their tips came from all over the galaxy. Cinlat had always handled the business end of their trade, and now, Fynta understood why.

According to Verin, Cinlat had met the contact at a hole in the wall cantina in Mos Ila. After a little detective work, made surprisingly simple by Master Carlo's willingness to manipulate the feeble minds of the slum inhabitants, they discovered that the guy still came around every night. Fynta and Jorgan took up sniper positions on the adjacent, albeit crumbling, rooftop to watch the meeting take place. Verin had gone through Cinlat's data to find a sneakily snapped image of the man in question. It must have been taken from her armor cam given the awkward angle and the target's apparent disinterest in the lens. He and Notiac held position inside, Verin agreeing to work peacefully with the Jedi due to her apparent interest in justice.

"Think Verin can handle this?" Jorgan asked as they laid on their bellies completely sealed in their armor. Elara and Cormac wandered the alleyways below in case the man decided to bolt. They'd been there an hour so far, and still no contact. The second moon started to rise, adding light to the clear sky, and risking their cover with each passing second.

"Maybe the guy doesn't feel like a drink tonight," Fynta answered, dodging around Aric's question. In truth, she had no idea if Verin would be able to keep his head. He'd grown increasingly volatile every day that yielded fruitless results, and Fynta worried that he might do something stupid. If he made it through the night, she knew it would only be due to the knowledge that Cinlat was counting on him.

Jorgan chuckled lightly, an odd sound given the circumstances. "I'm impressed that you've managed to stay put for so long." Fynta gave an indignant snort. She didn't like sitting still, it's why she'd have never made it as a sniper. Too much waiting for so little reward.

"Verin can handle it," Fynta stated in an effort to deflect Aric's attention off her inability to remain motionless for more than a few minutes. "He hasn't threatened Notiac in what, two days? He must be feeling pretty desperate." In truth, Fynta kept Verin in her crosshairs so that she could fire a warning shot if it looked like he'd kill their target before Cormac could nab the guy.

"He is," Jorgan answered simply. Fynta must have made some noise, because he went on to explain. The Cathar's helmet never moved, a difficult accomplishment while having a conversation. "He told me about the bes'bev, and what it meant to your family." Fynta quirked an eyebrow out of habit even though he wouldn't see it. For Verin to share such personal information spoke volumes about his mental state at the time.

Fynta pushed the thoughts away for another time and sighed. "I don't think he's coming."

Jorgan actually laughed. "Patience, it's only been an hour."

Fynta rolled her eyes and switched to the main link. "Verin, want to trade? I think I'm getting a crick in my neck."

"Possible ID," he said by way of an answer. No banter, no smart assed come back. The man was completely focused on the job at hand and nothing else.

Fynta scanned the cantina and settled on a short human male with a balding head and a bushy beard. "You sure, vod?"

"Yeah, that's the guy," Verin growled.

"We need him alive," Fynta reminded her brother as he stood to approach the man.

Notiac intercepted Verin, and for a moment, Fynta thought he'd deck the Jedi. "Let me handle this. The less bloodshed, the better." From Fynta's angle looking over Notiac's shoulder, she watched as her brother narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"Two minutes, Jedi. Then, the chakaar's mine." Verin crossed his arms as Notiac tipped her head and slipped into the chair next to the man.

The Jedi struck up a conversation about the weather, poor luck, and even the quality of the booze at the local fighting arena. Cormac sniggered when the term Lady of Pain came up, and Fynta was almost certain she'd heard the name before. At last, Notiac waved a hand dismissively. "You want to join me outside."

Notiac didn't turn the phrase as a request, and Fynta realized a split-second before Dorne spoke what had happened. "Sir, is she—"

"Hold tight," Fynta answered, cutting the question off mid-sentence. Using a Jedi mind trick to nudge someone into giving up information was one thing, but Master Carlo had to know that Fynta didn't plan on asking nicely for information. It troubled her more than she expected to know that a Jedi would so willingly put someone's life in danger.

Both Jedi and man exited the cantina into a back alley to find Cormac waiting. The man barely had time to yelp before Cormac caught him with a wicked left hook. "Alright everyone," Fynta order, finally able to move again. "Let's get him to the safe house so we can ask some questions."

Fynta slid back onto her knees and stretched her back. Now, came the part she had been dreading. "Jorgan, have you read my file?"

"Not yet," he admitted warily, faceplate turning towards her. "It never felt like the right time."

Fynta sighed, though she couldn't say if she was pleased that he still hadn't discovered the darkness that lurked within that heavily encrypted coding, or disappointed because now he'd find out the hard way. Pushing to her feet, Fynta looked over the broken little town and decided that it was a little of both.

Mos Ila Safe House 22:30

Jorgan deposited the prisoner into a chair, and Verin cuffed him. The man snorted, but otherwise gave no indication of consciousness. "Meet Trydan Mosall," Fynta said with hands on hips. They were holed up in the back room of one of the planet's many abandoned buildings. Fynta had sent Cormac, Dorne, and Master Carlo on a food run, claiming that if all three went, they'd have a better chance of finding food that wouldn't poison them. She'd tried to send Jorgan as well, but he'd refused to leave.

The Cathar stood against the wall with his arms crossed while Fynta and Verin held a quiet argument across the room. He knew something wasn't right just by the way she smiled. It was tight and didn't reach her eyes, a clear indication that his wife was on edge. Fynta pointed at Jorgan and shook her head while Verin motioned at the man cuffed to the chair. Finally, Jorgan figured he'd given them enough privacy and crossed the room to find out what was going on.

"—do it for Cinlat. I need you on this one, Fyn'ika," Verin whispered.

Fynta opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when she caught sight of Jorgan. Her eyes were hard as durasteel when she looked into his, and the Cathar knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.

With a sigh, Fynta faced Jorgan stiffly. "Aric, I need you to stand guard at the door while I question the prisoner."

Jorgan reached to touch her arm, but Fynta took a step away before his fingers could find purchase. "What are you going to do?" He asked, preparing himself for the worst.

"I'm going to get answers," Fynta responded in a cold tone that Jorgan hadn't heard since that thrice damned mission on Hoth. He'd killed a SIS agent that day in reparation for the lives of good men. He wanted to argue that she didn't have to do this, but judging by the set of her jaw, Fynta had made her choice.

Jorgan stared at his wife for a few more seconds, convinced further by her unwavering glare. Neither Fynta, nor Verin could forcibly remove him from the room, so Jorgan turned away from his wife to stalk back to the door. He leaned against the inside, offering only a brow raise in answer to her renewed glare.

Eventually, Fynta gave up on the nonverbal threats and returned her attention to Verin. The man offered his sister a helmet, more specifically, Cinlat's helmet. "She's running out of time, ori'vod."

Fynta accepted the red and black helmet and slipped it over her head. She squatted in front of the man and nodded to Verin. He leaned over, holding a vial of smelling salt under the man's nose. Trydan snorted, then sat bolt upright and stared around the room with a frantic gleam in his eyes.

Fynta snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Wake up, pal, I need information." The man's face paled when his eyes finally settled on the expressionless T-shaped visor of the woman he'd presumably scammed. The filters lowered Fynta's voice to give her a disconcerting, droid-like sound.

Steeling himself, Trydan spat "I don't got anything to say to the likes of y—"

Fynta backhanded the man hard across the mouth before he could finish his defiant rant. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so why don't we skip to the part where you tell me who gave you the slave chip contract." Her voice was low and even as she ejected the vibroblade from her gauntlet and held it in front of the man's nose.

Trydan swallowed, but maintained his defiance. "No idea what you're talking about."

"You're sure?" Fynta asked. She'd remained absolutely stationary and had yet to make an actual threat. That didn't keep Trydan's eyes off the blade she held before him, though.

In an effort to appear unflappable, perhaps, the man did his best to sound nonplussed. "How about you send that cute little Miraluka back, maybe we can all get better aqauain—" His words cut off in a strangled scream as Fynta slammed her fist into Trydan's leg. Her vibroblade torn through muscle and sinew so that the barest hint of the end protruded from the bottom of his thigh. Jorgan pushed off the wall, then physically stopped himself from yanking his wife back to ask what the hell she was doing. His heart pounded, and he realized now why she'd wanted to know if he'd read her file.

Trydan gasped for air, his chest heaving as he whimpered. Fynta stood slowly, eliciting little cries as she pushed down on the impaled leg. She put the faceplate of her helmet directly in front of Trydan's face. "A name. Now." The lack of emotion in his wife's voice, one Jorgan was so used to being filled with laughter, chilled him to the core.

Trydan's cheeks puffed out with every breath. "He'll kill me," he wheezed.

Fynta ripped her knife free, and the man screamed again. She wiped it on Trydan's shirt before letting the blade slide back into her gauntlet and tilted the helmet to the side to watch the blood pooling beneath his wounded leg. "You're losing a lot of blood," she commented offhandedly before looking back up to him. "He might not get the chance."

Jorgan counted the seconds that passed, watching the puddle beneath the chair grow. There was a lot to be sure, but Fynta had missed the main artery. Trydan didn't know that, though. His eyes were wide with fear as he twisted to the side to look at the blood on the floor. "I can't. I can't." He repeated, tears streaming down his face.

Fynta removed her sidearm and waved it in front of the man as she paced back and forth. "Verpine. You sure you don't have anything for me?"

Trydan shook his head so violently that Jorgan thought the man might upend himself. Fynta simply shrugged, then aimed her blaster at his left foot.

23:00

Balic dropped his sack of goodies and plowed into the door when they heard the crack of Fynta's Verpine blaster. He bowled Jorgan over when he crashed through the flimsy door, stumbling to regain his footing even as the Cathar cursed.

Fynta paused with her sidearm halfway into the holster, and Cinlat's helmet under her arm. In front of her sat Trydan, crying like a baby as he stared at what looked to Cormac like a lot of blood on the floor and a blaster hole in the floor by his foot. Balic registered all of this in the space of a second before finally settling on Fynta's face. "What the hell, boss?"

Notiac pushed passed Balic and knelt in front of the man. She made a reassuring sound before laying her hands gently on Trydan's thigh and a soft, blue glow emanated from her hands.

"We got what we came for," Fynta replied, but her tone was wrong. Instead of sounding relieved, her voice was tight, as if she was on the verging of causing serious bodily harm, but hadn't decided to who yet.

Fynta shook her head angrily and tossed the helmet back to Verin. The man blinked at it, then after his sister before running to catch up. Finally, Cormac settled on Jorgan, ignoring the hushed conversation between Elara and Notiac as they worked to staunch Trydan's bleeding. "Well?"

To Cormac's surprise, Jorgan looked out of sorts as well. That Cathar's color was definitely off, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Jek Kardan," Jorgan mumbled from behind his fingers.

The name sounded familiar, but it wasn't until Elara spoke up that Cormac remembered why. "The man who commanded Havoc Squad before Tavus?"

"Shit." Cormac choked on the word. "Why in the hell would he be after Cinlat?"

"He's not," Jorgan growled, eyes straight ahead as he made for the door. "I need a drink."

After ensuring that Elara and Notiac had things in hand, Cormac set off in search of his commanding officers. He found Jorgan sitting at the bar in the nearest cantina. There was no sign of the major, which Cormac thought was a bad sign. He slid into the seat next to Jorgan and ordered another of whatever the Cathar was drinking. They sat in silence for a long time, each man taking alternating sips.

Finally, Jorgan took a shaky breath and swore.

"That bad, huh?" Cormac hedged with a sideways glance at the captain.

Jorgan shook his head, but was a few more minutes before he spoke. "I told her we shouldn't have let that man live." Cormac had been asking about the circumstances that led up to Trydan bleeding out in the interrogation room, but Jorgan clearly had other plans.

Cormac tipped his head in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Fynta thought a war hero like Kardan deserved the honor of choosing how he went out, so she let him live." Jorgan knocked back the rest of his whiskey and held up a finger for another. "Now, here we are." Somehow, Cormac doubted the drinking had anything to do with Kardan.

"And the boss?" Cormac asked, wondering why Jorgan and Fynta didn't have their heads together formulating a plan.

The Cathar snorted. "I'm giving her space." He nodded his thanks to the barkeep and stared at the amber liquid in his glass. Jorgan's tone was enough to tell Cormac everything he needed to know about the events that took place in that room.

Torture wasn't something that Balic was comfortable with. He wondered if he'd be capable of inflicting pain on another being. Would he be able to listen to a man scream if it meant protecting Elara? The very idea sent a shiver through his entire body, and Cormac downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. It would be better not to think about it.

00:00

Fynta paced back and forth taking deep breaths. She shook her hands, counted heart beats, and tried to relax her shoulders, but nothing helped. She was furious; with herself, her brother, even Aric. Fynta knew that if she stopped moving, she'd start shaking again, and contemplated punching the wall just to take her mind off the last hour. No matter how many calming breaths Fynta took, her heart rate simply wouldn't slow. It left her feeling jittery and on edge.

It had been a long time since Fynta had needed to extract information in such a brutal manner, and she'd forgotten how damaging it was. Even during her days at Epoch, Fynta hated inflicting pain for the purpose of gaining intel. A clean shot to the head was more her style. She couldn't dispute Verin's claim that Cinlat was on borrowed time in that SIS prison, but haar'chak, there had to have been a better way.

Fynta forced herself to stop moving, expanding her lungs purposefully in a final attempt to soothe her nerves. Anger flooded her system when she thought of Aric. Damn him, why couldn't he wait outside like I asked? Again, the pacing began with renewed vigor. How was she supposed to face her husband now, after he'd watched her do the very thing that they were trying to rescue Cinlat from? The whole scenario was a big, fierfeking mess with no right answers.

"Sir?"

Fynta startled, nearly tripping over her own boots at the soft greeting of the Havoc Squad medic. She blinked at Dorne for a moment, then waved her permission to come closer. "Sorry, Dorne, everything okay?" She'd forgotten to turn her comm back on and had no idea how long she'd been in that alley.

Elara stepped lightly into the circle of light from the dusty lamp attached to one of the buildings. "I came to ask you the same thing. Your heart rate has been elevated quite a while."

Fynta sighed and shook her head, but the words stuck in her throat. Elara was a medic; someone who risked her life to save people. Fynta had no doubt that Trydan had lived. She'd intentionally missed the artery, though he might not regain his ability to walk. That was as much of a death sentence on a planet like Tatooine.

Without warning, Dorne put a hand on Fynta's shoulder, forcing her to meet the medic's eyes. "I'm here if you'd like to discuss it. As your friend."

Fynta smiled, that small amount of humanity delivered in an Imperial accent bled some of the tension out of her. No matter what, Elara would always be there. The woman was as steadfast a friend as any Fynta had ever had. She'd scold her for being an idiot while putting all the pieces back together, but she never judged.

Fynta couldn't face down Kardan in her current condition, and was forced to admit defeat in the face of her friend's openness. "You know, Elara, I think I would."

Nar Shaddaa 00:08 (Seven days in SIS custody)

Cinlat lay on the floor in a dark isolation cell. Her captors had become bored with torture and had left her alone. Her old bones ached from the cold, durasteel floor, and her eyes felt strained from constantly seeking any source of light. The only interaction she'd had with other, sentient beings, was the grating scrape of a small door, and something that might have been food once shoved through. According to Cinlat's calculations, she was fed once a day, and this marked her fifth feeding in the cell.

Even though the room smelled of shit and piss, the bounty hunter's stomach twisted angrily with hunger. She heard the footsteps and almost wept at the relief she felt knowing that food was forthcoming, no matter its putrid nature. Cinlat scolded herself brutally for being so weak that she already felt on the verge of madness.

The cell door flung open, flooding the small room with light, and Cinlat shied away from it. "This 'er?" A thick Imperial accent asked. She guessed he was low birth, probably educated after joining the military, which most likely made him an enforcer.

"Yep," the man replied, this one definitely Republic. "Cinlat Ejnar. How the mighty have fallen."

The Imperial chuckled. "We'll e'sure she's t'ken 'are of."

Rough hands wrapped around Cinlat's arms, wrenching them behind her back to slap on shock cuffs. Her vision had just begun to adjust when the bag was shoved over her head, and the two men hauled her out of the cell. "Pleasure doing business with you," Republic said, his laughter fading as Imperial guards dragged Cinlat away to some unknown hell.

[cinlat]

Muse Fears

Bold any fears which apply to your muse. Italicize what makes them uncomfortable. Copy/paste as new post. Do not reblog.

Eep, I have so many. I’ll have to stick to my most popular OCs. I’m going to skip Solish, because I really think that my crazy Cathar is too far gone to be afraid of anything.

Republic Trooper, My Outlander - Fynta Wolfe:

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. blood. drowning. suffocation. clowns. the supernatural. heights. spiders. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. forgetting. being forgotten. being mind controlled. being haunted. dying. being misunderstood.

Imperial Agent, Cipher Nine, Zolah Holran:

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. blood. drowning. suffocation. clowns. the supernatural. heights. spiders. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. forgetting. being forgotten. being mind controlled. being haunted. dying. being misunderstood.

Bounty Hunter, Great Hunt Champion, Cinlat Ejnar:

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. blood. drowning. suffocation. clowns. the supernatural. heights. spiders. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. forgetting. being forgotten. being mind controlled. being haunted. dying. being misunderstood.

Bounty Hunter, Fynta’s big brother & Cinlat’s husband (and all around fun guy), Verin Ejnar:

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. blood. drowning. suffocation. clowns. the supernatural. heights. spiders. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. forgetting. being forgotten. being mind controlled. being haunted. dying. being misunderstood.

I was tagged by @cavalier-life, thanks for much!

I know a lot of you have already done this, so let’s try @salaciouscrumpet, @mando-ad, @anjastasia, and whoever else hasn’t been tagged, but would like to. Consider this your tag.

[cinlat]

In honor of my fem bounty hunter, Cinlat Ejnar. She grew up in the fighting pits on Hutta, where she received those three jagged scars over the left side of her face from a Cathar opponent. She’s cool headed, relatively quiet, and doesn’t put up with childish behavior. Given her memorable features, she prefers to wear full beskar’gam in public, including helmet. She met Fynta and Verin Wolfe, Mandalorian orphans, and let them tag along after sharing a bounty. Years later, she married Verin after Fynta joined the Army of the Galactic Republic, and they hunted their way across the galaxy until Havoc Squad pulled them into all manner of shenanigans. Her all time favorite weapons are the dual Rippers Verin bought for her when it became apparent that a larger rifle wouldn’t work. As it happens, it is purely coincidence that she bares my screen name. It was one of those moments when all the names I tried were taken, so I went with the most unique one I could think of and it stuck. The character Cinlat has been around a good three years before I introduced her to the internet. She was also my first toon on swtor, so I have a soft spot for her. You can find more Cinlat on A03 and FFN.

[cinlat]

What would happen if the Esseles and Black Talon flashpoints were actually a cohesive story?