#hello murder sedition treason and That Bitch Triad

[flowerflamestars]

Red & Gold snippet

“You think I would endow your rule?” Ara continued, fire and ash. “ I will melt your beskar for the chains you’ll wear when we give you to the Republic. I have seen the Uniter’s face, but you will not survive to see grass grow over the glass hills.” Ara dropped her and then, only then, did Quinlan open the door. “You’re a waste,” Bo-Katan croaked. “You are holy. Take it for yourself then. Give it to your fucking sorcerer- Mandalore is dying.” Armor and anger, her chin raised high, Ara turned back to them. Walked away from the woman who’d raised Deathwatch back to a fury, yet another daughter of the Kryze reaching too far. “Mandalore will always survive, so long as there are Mandalorians. This is the Way.” She did not look back. She walked out, her steps slow and measured, seething silent as the door locked, as Quinlan wordlessly pulled her down the hall, past the guards, and down yet another unused hallway, into a storage space like he’d memorized the route. It was only there, alone with them, that Ara breathed. Pressed the heels of her hands to eyes, and said, rough around the edges, “We can’t give her to the Kevalens.” With a gentleness that was visible, Quinlan brush her elbow like he might skin, glancing touch on the armored joint. Fox was not so gentle. “I’ll kill her.” Feeling slammed back into his brain- depth and breath and enough fire to fill the sky, a bottomless wanting, a bright burning haze over everything- Quinlans’s emotions had color and taste and- disappeared again, leaving a copper iron tang in Fox’s mouth not unlike blood. It would have been preferable, a solid hit to the face, than to lose that tiny, infinite thread. Fox gritted his teeth. “She landed on sovereign Vode soil. It stops there." Ara raised her head, dark eyes liquid. “If that peice of shit Duchess is on Coruscant, Kryze here, and Vizsla dead, who ran them all off of Mandalore?” “Who,” Quinlan breathed, tipping forward until his cheek leaned against the dense weft of her braids, “Has the saber?”