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kalevalakryze · 1 year

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The Forge Jitters

“Chugging caffeine to try and fight the inevitable crash.”

The duties of an Armorer were vast and all consuming. She knew this since the day she picked the particular path, watching as Mandalorian armorers worked in tandem at the great forge, all those years ago. The armor she made helped keep her convert alive as long as they had been, and while many had gone their own ways, they went with the protection of her armor, and the promise of a home to return to , so long as they still walked the way.

When they retook Mandalore, it only added to her workload: the beskar alloy from the imperials needed melted and reforged for the people in belonged to, building materials would need assembled, and armor would need repaired. All on top of establishing safe zones, clearing Alamites, staying clear of the Mand’alor’s strange choice in pet (that sewer lizard kept trying to nip at their people’s heels, though Bo insisted he was harmless each time), and working on getting her people to follow Lady Kryze as they followed her. She was not made to be a leader, but an Armorer, and the retaking of their home meant she could just be what she was meant to again.

The Children of The Watch still came to her, much more often than not, to ensure the orders passed down were correct, to question the niteowls or the history of the planet. The Armorer turned those who were more stubborn at the change in leadership as her apprentices, teaching them the way of the forge, while sharing wisdom about following one’s Mand’alor.

When others would step away for the night, The Armorer often found herself pulled in another direction, clearing materials and checking welds, helping the Mand’alor, often by just being a steady presence to bounce thoughts off of. So, in order to stay awake and alert, she’d turned to Caff and other energy supplements.

It was no secret that these methods often led to feeling worse, heightened paranoia, muscle spasms, the likes of which could make one a liability, but when Bo Katan stepped into the forge that night, greeting her with silence, and the weight of a forehead against the center of her back, The Armorer knew it was worth it, to provide the same strength to the woman who gave her their home back.

“Bo Katan,” The Armorer greeted, setting down the beskar tongs that seemed to rattle and vibrate in her hands, placed somewhat too roughly against a stone table. “You have returned. What came of your travels?” The golden helmeted warrior only stepped away as the Mand’alor walked to the table to set her helmet down. The small machine had been brought down by the niteowls when their took a break at the forge, soon, the sound of the device heating and pouring water into the dusted grounds echoed off the walls, refilling a cup that had been filled on and off the entire day.

“Din Djarin and I went to the New Republic together, they’ve offered to put out bulletins for the other clans of Mandalorian’s, to let them know they can come home. Clan Wren has also started to link us into the safest trade route Sabine could find. Boba Fett declared that he does not wish to return to Mandalore permanently, though he does have plans to visit and help us reestablish ourselves-“ the redheads voice trailed. They could both use more sleep than either were willing to let on, especially with the Mand’alor out in the galaxy, continuing to reunite tribes and clans without the darksaber by her side, but a planet to call home.

“You have done well, Lady Kryze,” the woman complimented, keeping her back turned from Bo as her helmet was lifted, just enough to swallow a mouthful of too hot caff. The burn helped jar her system back to where it was meant to be. As her helmet was replaced, and she’d turned herself back in time, she’d caught the sight of her Mand’alor’s head ducked bashfully, and the way her cheeks reddened with blush. Worth it indeed, if keeping herself awake ensured she would still be the one garnering that type of reaction.

“What about you? How have things been since I’ve been gone?” Bo questioned, taking those few steps closer and reaching to grab her free hand. These small moments of affection were becoming more and more common lately, on both of their ends. So the Armorer let her hand wrap around Bo’s as she thought of the best way to respond.

“The trinitite seems to be taking well to the durasteel and other materials recovered from the imperial facility, the apprentices have done well molding them together so we can rebuild. However we will need to discuss if we will be redoming the cities in the future.” The crystal on the surface would be a perfect and abundant material for them to use, if they could work it properly to still allow sunlight and not superheat the civilization.

As she spoke, she’d turned to refill another cup of caff, the burn wearing off once more and allowing the feeling of the crash to start. Beneath her helmet, brown eyes screwed shut, the sound of the cup missing the spout of the device on several occasions echoing.

“Hey-“ she’d heard, a soft tone from bo katan that seemed specially reserved for her. A hand on her shoulder, sliding down to the un-armored portion of her bicep and rubbing against the material soothingly. “You’ve been busy,” the redhead pointed out, offering a smile at the blank stare she’d received. “Just, come back to the tents with me for a while. We can talk there if you want, or do something else…” her voice trailed off in a suggestive tone, though the Armorer knew it was a trap. One meant to lull her out of the forge with a false sense that they would take a new step, only to be lured away from her work to waste time sleeping (a sentient The Armorer did not normally hold, as she’d encouraged many that sleep was a necessity. She never was good at following her own advice).

Despite her wish to deny, to turn herself back to her work, she couldn’t find it in herself to say no to Bo Katan. Her mug was set down on the stone ledge that served as a shelf, fingers steadying it so her jittery hand would not knock it to the ground, and she soon took her rightful place at the other’s side.

Bo Katan walked with a perfect speed, like she’d been ready for The Armorer’s hurried strides. With how often she’d seen the Mand’alor in a similar predicament of caff fueled energy, it made sense how she’d guessed the exact strides the golden helmeted woman would take.

All too soon, they were both cramped inside of Bo Katan’s tent. A tactical decision on the niteowls part, there was nothing to distract oneself with, as the Mand’alor kept her tent rather empty. Still though, small trinkets from foundlings were displayed proudly along a stack of crates, the only area that seemed cared for in the tent. She’d noticed the small trinket she’d helped one of her foundling apprentices create, beskar scraps melted together to form an inch sized bust of Bo-Katan’s own helmet, front and center from all the little pieces.

In the corner of the tent, Bo’s sewer lizard made a snapping sound, reaching out like he was going to nip at the trim of her heavy skirt. “Akaan, down.” The woman commanded, hands resting on her hips as she stared down the small creature. A brief showdown occurred between the two, before ‘Akaan’ lowered himself back into the small bed of furs.

“He’s harmless, really,” Bo promised as she set her helmet on an empty section of the crates, armor soon following in a near stack beside them. “Now come on, you look like you’re about to drop.” And then the Mand’alor was settling into the cot. It wasn’t large enough for two people, but this was a dance they’d repeated just often enough to understand how to fit, even if Bo switched their positions.

The armorer sighed, a heavy sound that only seemed to expel all the energy she’d tried to pour into her system over the last few days. At least she wouldn’t be crashing in the middle of a project. The Armorer removed only the beskar chest plate, furs and heavy skirt, before she settled into the bed, more on Bo Katan than the actual cot itself.

Despite the awkward angle, and the unfortunate situation of The Armorer needing her helmet, the pair eventually got comfortable. Bo’s right arm wrapped firmly around her middle as her helm lay against the woman’s shoulder, both arms wrapped around her mand’alor. Her arm would be numb in the morning, stuck between Bo and the thin mattress, but like her temporary sleep strike, it was also deemed worth the consequences.

Even with the crash of sleep, and allowing her body to still, her mind still ran rampant with projects and designs, though her body offered no motivation to do anything about these half formed thoughts.

Seeming to sense the disruption in The Armorer’s relaxation, Bo’s hand traveled the length of her hip to her shoulder, then back down again. “The forge is quiet, the hammers have stilled. It is time to rest, mesh’la.” Bo’s voice was heavy with sleep, her eyes stayed shut as deft fingers gently prodded and massaged out knots along the other woman’s back. The flight suit separating their skin prevented her from providing as much relief as she’d wanted in the moment, but it was relaxing enough that soon, The Armorer could not procrastinate the call of sleep’s embrace, body relaxing against Bo Katan’s, as the two finally drifted off to a well deserved rest.

#bo katan kryze #bo katan x the armorer #the mandalorian #the armorer #nitearmor #my fic #take off your helmet #the armorer deserves a hug #I literally end all of these with them going to sleep #i’m projecting #I’m constantly exhausted so they both have to be too #ursa mention #Sabine mention #and boba #he should get to be a part of the new mandalore too #incorrect mandalorian building practices probably #I have no idea if they can really combine trinitite with beskar or durasteel #but we can imagine #that I know something about construction.

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