Chapter Text
Aq Vetina's elder survivor looked up as she approached. Forlorn, he said something in his hissing-clicking language. It seemed questioning.
She settled into a partial squat in front of him. His free hand had snapped out to grab at her shoulder, but he shrank back when she echoed the sound.
That was poorly done of me, she realized too late.
The last time he would have heard his language spoken was during the attack, and the Armorer did not understand or speak it. Her mimicry might well have just been a grievous insult, or been quite literally any other awful nonsense.
What was she doing? She knew the theoreticals of young ones well enough, but had never anticipated being as hands-on as it seemed she would be. Ideally, Caspian Reeves and his family would join her. His knowledge and experience in helping Foundlings heal would be invaluable.
She would need to gather those who would follow, and perhaps there she would turn Reeves. Most of the parents among their number would join her, she was sure. As Armorer, she knew their concerns, and that the twin lures of safety and stability would draw them. Of her faction, they would aid what remained of Aq Vetina, and that would be the split. She pressed a hand to the Foundling’s head, mindful of the soft place where young human skulls took many years to join. He sagged back into the wall, away from her touch, but he looked less tense. She moved on.
First meal had just finished, and so the common area was as full as it ever got. Apart from those of the Armorer's own creed, who ate elsewhere, nearly everyone was present. Good. Those of her Creed would follow her. It was these others that she was unsure of.
Had she a forge, she would have held this meet there. The closest she had to such was her ship of parts, which was unsuitable for a number of reasons – the foremost being the presence of her once-wife.
She took a step towards their makeshift dias, and another. By the time she had stepped up, near-perfect silence had fallen. The murmurs of a toddler, shushed though they were, spurred her on.
"We cannot continue as we have and expect to provide a life worth having to our children. This war of attrition has cost too many lives – of Mandalorians and children who might have become Mandalorian alike." There was nodding.
“We have lent our aid to the last attack. Inciting more conflict will do nothing but weaken us further, and leave more children as orphans. I will be taking those willing with me, to form a covert elsewhere. We will bide our time, raise our children, and gather our strength in secrecy, so that we may live to fight another day. Honor does not demand martyrdom, and we who follow the Preserver’s creed have served as holdfasts erenow.”
There was a voice from the back of the room, coming closer. "Will those who follow need to swear to your Creed?”
"I will not arm those I cannot guide, and will not guide those I cannot arm. Our practices preserve our identities and place another layer of protection between ourselves and our enemies."
Amber Hush stood, lekku curled slightly around her birkad. Scion of a longstanding clan, her word would hold a great deal of sway.
"You speak well, and it is true that many generations of Watchers have stood between the Manda and desolation. I will join you.”
This was a relief, to be sure. “I am glad to hear it, though I grieve its necessity. I will be leaving shortly to register the newest Foundlings, that they might have a place on Mandalore should Bo-Katan’s crusade bear fruit, but when I return I ask that all who will follow me be ready to depart. There is little enough time to waste.” She exited the hall by the same means she had entered, and found the Aq Vetina children huddled just outside the door.
At this very moment, though, the best she could do was try to make amends and communicate her intentions.
A quickly-dropping hum and sigh stood in for an apology. This child would not survive Bo-Katan's effort to retake Mandalore. If I act now, he will survive to see adulthood at the very least. The first eldest child off Aq Vetina had not survived the journey to the covert. Only two were left. The eldest remaining was still suspicious, though the toddler distracted him.
She reached out to lessen his burden, soothing the little one's fussing. Gaze sharp as a shriek-hawk's, he allowed her to touch the toddler with trace reluctance. A kind child, but brave. That she was being allowed to hold the ik’ad at all was an honor.
The Armorer could admit that she saw a spark in this child. No more than she saw in others, but different. He had a deliberate, thoughtful way about him, and he fought like a Krayt when he chose. She did not know the younger’s name and no one here knew the elder child’s name, but the Armorer held hope.
"Will you come with me? To another place?" She spoke clearly, for the child had shown no great grasp of Basic. After a moment of him perhaps parsing her meaning, he nodded sharply. She would take these children into the lion’s den, and then hopefully the Tribe at least would be free. Bringing the children of the Watch to someplace else, far away, where they could be safe, would start here.