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Scarletta
Streets > Main Floor
Dralshy'a
Streets > Main Floor
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"Oya manda!"
Drayshl’a honestly couldn’t decide on who had looked more terrified by the presence of the unassumingly small Mandalorian - the di'kut* now scrambling to the other side of the street to avoid their paths crossing or the unfortunate Hutt she had painstakingly decollated not even 10 hours prior to finding herself loitering before the phosphorescent tavern. The Hunter followed his discomfort with ample amusement, noting the longer she trained her glare on the poor fellow the faster his feet hit the ground.
Di’kutla.*
The entirety of the exchange lasted no longer than a minute before he found the next corner, but she hadn’t needed to probe the aruetiise* to know it felt it had lasted him a lifetime. She sneered. Even without the elements of prestige and secrecy Mandolorian helmets always seemed to afford the warriors as it lay shielded betwixt the side of the her torso and arm, most were still wise enough to give the Bounty Hunter a generous birth.
With the past time walking down another street she lolled her head from side to side, feeling the contents of her Cigarra finally begin to seep in. After a childhood of Slavery, years at the academy and what now already felt like a lifetime of picking up contracts - little could ultimately unwind her muscles, but every blunted edge helped... The hunter mused on how many might've hurled themselves at the Echani Half-Breed for a handout if she hadn’t adorned her traditional Beskar'gam* returning the pre-roll to her lips, noting its sudden reluctance to deliver on the cloying aroma in the sodden weather. The constant drizzle from the sky had been as insistent as Dralshy’a had been on ignoring it running haphazardly through the ivory strands draped across her breastplate but now the Bounty Hunter gawked at the dampened Cigarra as the onset of acrimony seized her chest.
Chakaarycs!* Her conscious growled, they make nothing for themselves but expect others to pave their way! She found the concept as disgusting as Slaves idly remitting their lives waiting to be freed by another.
“Haar'chak!!*”
She snuffed the cigarra out in the torrent below with a bellow, forgetting it to fizzle to its end as quickly as she did the bothersome sentiments trying to burn their way to the forefront of her mind as she straightened. “Pah! I need a Beer,” Drayshl’a huffed out in her last expiring lungful of smoke, but she barely swayed from her position in the drizzle. The ire grasping the womans chest seemed to wash away with the rain and she shivered as the somber nostalgia of Aay'han* crept over her heart to replace it instead. She wouldn't be finding comfort in the dry for a few minutes longer. A sense of sobriety washed over Dralshy’a’s conscious in recognition of the upcoming ritual and she found the names of long lost loved ones and felled comrades already marching across the forefront of her mind listlessly before she could begin reciting. Every day she revisited her most beloved in her mind as she continued to endure, in true Mandolorian fashion.
Gathering the locks of snow from her armor she returned her black and gold helmet unto its proper perch, assuming an attentive position as the memoir began to solemnly loll off the Echani’s lips.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.* O'dain. Zandoran. Runose. Orinth. Val." The drone faded into the hush of the rain and nearly two minutes later ended as abruptly as it began (in true mando fashion) with a final name.
Satisfied the hunter turned her stride towards the entrance of the Tavern, sparing the azure haired Anya stumbling out no more than an menacing acknowledgement from behind the ambiguous visor. If by chance Anya witnessed the personal inspection before she turned her sights to the keep, she may have noted the unmistakable glow of the Dark sides influence in the Mandolorians eyes radiating from inside the helm.
"Ni copaani T'ad Ne'tra buy'ce Gal!"* tearing her disinterested gaze from Anya the words left her mouth before she could fully assess the main floor in its new dappled lighting, demanding two pints of Black Ale in her own Mando’a tongue. She had never needed to translate for a bot before, and hopefully for the keeps sake this wouldn’t be the first.
(edited to make the ending a little more open to interaction.)
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*Terminology*
Dralshy'a - stronger, brighter. Scarletta's Adoptive Mando'a name. (for now)
"Oya manda!" = Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.
Aruetiise = Outsiders to Mandos, Foreigners, Traitors
Di'kuts = Idiots
Di'kutla = stupid
Beskar'gam = Armor
Chakaarycs = Lowlives
Haar'chak! = God damn!
Aay'han = Bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy in remember loved dead
"Ni copaani T'ad Ne'tra buy'ce Gal." = I want Two pints of Black Ale.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum" = "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." Daily remembrance of those passed on followed by repetition of the loved ones' names.
Dralshy'a - stronger, brighter. Scarletta's Adoptive Mando'a name. (for now)
"Oya manda!" = Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.
Aruetiise = Outsiders to Mandos, Foreigners, Traitors
Di'kuts = Idiots
Di'kutla = stupid
Beskar'gam = Armor
Chakaarycs = Lowlives
Haar'chak! = God damn!
Aay'han = Bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy in remember loved dead
"Ni copaani T'ad Ne'tra buy'ce Gal." = I want Two pints of Black Ale.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum" = "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." Daily remembrance of those passed on followed by repetition of the loved ones' names.
