Chapter Text
It wasn’t showy, his runi aliik ( soulmark lit.soul sigil, poetically meaning the alliance of one’s soul). The tusk was drawn in detail, but it was small, curving behind his ear with the tip pointing slightly inward towards the earlobe. Neat understated symbols trailed along the outer edge backwards and just a bit down the nape.
Nothing like Ruu’s mark, a star map of the Mandalorian sector that practically exploded down their back, just as stylized and dramatic as they themselves were.
It had not been a surprise that their local lunatic fighter pilot found his match in a just as insane cartographer.
That was the way of runi aliike (soulmarks), they reflected a part that was deeply important to you and combined it with your soulmates.
In some cases it was practically impossible to discern which part represented whom so interwoven or abstract were their designs.
Jaster however was an archivist at heart just as much as he was a verd (warrior). He knew the tusk in his soulmark was a mythosaur’s as much as he knew Jango's black eye wasn’t from training, but running against the fresher door no matter what the boy insisted.
If he was honest with himself, and he was the leader of an entire people so he very much tried to be, that was the crux of the problem.
Him being an archivist, that is, not Jango's fight with dignity.
See, Jaster just knew the elegant but simplistic symbols that made up the other part of his mark were words in an unknown language of some kind.
He just, for the life of him, could not find out which one.
What hours he had spent spiraling down research rabbit holes trying to find their origin, if they were part of a living spoken language or an ancient one, whether they were words at all or singular letters, runes, characters...
Kal once found him, five cafs and one stim deep in a research bender and had the audacity to suggest it might just be made up gibberish.
His subsequent flight from the Mand'alor’s office with Jaster still yelling facts and profanities in equal measures after him, was a popular tale on long voyages, gleefully recounted by Walon as often as he could.
Honestly, as if not all words were made up nonsense we agree to have meaning!
To this day, those lovely symbols elude all his efforts to understand them, like mist dancing in the early morning light only to disappear with every step you take.
His pursuit of them was the one constant in his life, whether it was in his Journeyman protector quarters, on his ship as a mercenary or with Jango spending time in the karyai (main living room of a traditional north Mandalorian house). The frequencies of his research might have become more erratic but he never stopped.
Not that he was some grand exception, relying on one's community to relay possible sightings and descriptions of a runi aliike (soulmarks) was the prevailing way a Mando'ad match found each other.
Their occupations rather infamously spread them out all over the galaxy and sharing information of soulmarks one encountered on the job was either common courtesy or currency depending on the Mando.
It was also the reason Mando'ade (Mandalorians lit. Children of Mandalore) painted their runi aliik (soulmark) across their armor as accurate to the original as possible.
He knew of at least two pairs that found each other on the battlefield, one of them even fighting on the same side!
Majyc, the most memorable of them all, waxed poetically about the beauty of his soulmate's twice mirrored face and proposed on the spot the first time he met his future riduur (spouse, partner).
Who promptly stunned him with a hypo and then proceeded to yell about how it was his concussion making him see double and to stop moving or he’ll break his other arm himself, right up until his still moon eying future love lost consciousness.
Which is all well and good, but wasn’t much help to Jaster either. His mark was of course proudly etched onto his armor as was tradition, exactly as it was on his skin, but a buy'ce (helmet) just wasn’t made for designs along where the ears would be.
It made the other way round of spotting it on other people difficult as well and Jaster had developed the life long habit of first looking at a person's ear before ever seeing their face.
At times when he truly became in danger of lamenting about his runi aliik (soulmark) related woes, he reminded himself of an old acquaintance in his Journeyman Protector days and the truly unfortunate placement of their runi aliik (soulmark).
He idly wondered if they had met their other half and if he would actually want to hear that particular story if he did…
No, his own was unobtrusive, but at least it was in an acceptable place to be visible in polite society.
Unobtrusive but not easily hidden, he’d imagine not even a turtleneck and long hair would completely obscure where the symbols curved from the ear a bit towards the jawline before bending backwards in a vague S shape.
Well, he didn’t just imagine so, he saw.
In whatever scenario Jaster had believed to find his runi riduur (soulmate) (and he had watched a few of those truly melodramatic holodramas so there was plenty of fodder for his fancy) looking up from his datapad and suddenly seeing a person hanging head over heels outside a space port window was not one of them.
Jaster didn’t know what made him lift his eyes from the outrageous payment cut their incessantly babbling client had the audacity to slip into their contract and was currently trying to distract him from, but the heart palpitations it gave him probably sheared a few weeks of his life.
They were hanging from a balcony one floor above them and one window to their left, just about visible if one stood close to the window and at the far right of the room.
He only caught a glimpse at all, because he refused the chair in front of the office desk to make the representative trying to override their contract sweat a little.
A Mando’ad in full armor towering over you in silence went a long way in clearing up misunderstandings.
That he wasn’t trying to menace but simply gobsmacked at the acrobatic feats before him thankfully went unnoticed under his buy'ce (helmet).
It took him a moment to understand the absurd picture, but it seemed the dinii (lunatic)was not just hanging upside down from the balcony, more than 70 floors of the ground, but also somehow bowing their body upwards to reach…
Jaster crossed his arms and leaned against the window, desperately hoping he was looking appropriately ominous and even more desperately wishing he could press his cheek against the glass to see further to the side.
Whatever they were reaching for seemed to be as much out of his field of view as it was out of the person's reach, because they pulled themselves up (Jaster reminded himself to up his training program at all that sign of impressive core strength) only to proceed to do something even more insane instead.
(Scratch training, he wanted to spare them. If that wasn’t a verd (warrior)right there he would go through Jango trying to convince him about his black eye origin story again.)
The Dinii Verd (Lunatic Warrior) swung his upper body a few times as if to gain momentum only to let go and ….
Jaster swore, and got momentarily distracted by the frantic aid that reasonably believed the harsh words in Mando’a were aimed at him. He had to spend a few precious moments refocusing on the conversion.
Which was quite pleasantly enlightening but the more interesting thing first.
Jaro (Death Wish), Jaster decided that would be the balcony acrobats name because Manda preserve him, caught themselves by hooking one forefoot close to the top into one single iron bar of the balcony.
With the other foot they just seemed to stand on top of the same bar a bit below, so their feet created a V shape with their upper body parallel to the streets almost 80 floors below them.
Sickingly fascinated, he couldn’t help the thought that the only thing missing was them swaying in the wind and Jaro would make the perfect Haat Mando'ade (True Mandalorians) flag, all the grey clothing and what seemed to be a red overthrow wrap included.
Jaster watched on with bated breath as Jaro slowly stretched their hand out of his view and almost cheered when, with a few very careful tugs, they seemed to have acquired what they had performed this entire act for.
The Mand’alor kept watch as the verd (warrior) unravel themselves in far too bendy a way (if that was not a word before, Jaro certainly twisted it into existence now) stretching their head and turtleneck looking shirt to the side and consequently bared their neck and left profile to Jaster.
And lo and behold, there were the same maddening symbols that had kept Jaster awake and dreaming in equal measures for decades, spilling from behind the ear back across their nape.
It was a quicker glance than he would have liked, true, but he had been staring, tracing and writing them down over and over for all of his life.
Mar'e (Finally), he wanted to scream. Ni ru'mar'eyi ner runi riduur (I found my soulmate).
And immediately after as terror and rapture dawned on him in equal measures.
Ner runi riduur ganar Jaro (My soulmate has a Death wish).
Jaster didn’t know if he should laugh or cry as he watched his other half finally make it back onto the balcony proper.
The Mand’alor wasn’t sure what he would have done if they actually fell and had little time to dwell on that particular horror scenario as somebody stepped out of the open balcony doorway.
A tiny somebody, since just the top of the head was visible over the balcony railing, adorned with a crown pattern of horns that looked distinctively Zabrak to Jaster.
His Jaro bent down and handed whatever they had risked their life for to the newcomer.
Jaster became aware of three things then and there.
First of all, the way the little one had to tilt their entire head upwards to look at his runi riduur’s (soulmat's) face showed he was clearly an adiik, (child aged 3 to 13) maybe somewhere around six and at least partially Zabrak, maybe Zeltron too with his red coloring.
The second, that it was some kind of cloth toy or even a puppet Jaro had risked their neck to save.
By the way the child pointedly did not press it to their chest, as many young ones who thought themselves too mature for stuffed toys did, it seemed to be a deeply important one.
A scenario constructed itself in his head. Playtime or emotions must have gotten a bit rowdy and the toy went flying, at which point it seemed to have gotten stuck on the decorative iron work running along the edges of some windows.
Had he quietly marveled over the iron work when he arrived? Sure, but not when it costs an adiik (child) its treasured toy and his soul mate almost their life!
And his brave, lovely, Jaro risked their neck to get it back.
The way they softly kissed the little one on the brow it might even be their own!
His runi riddur (soulmate) might have an adiik (child) and they were the most mandokarla (having the "right stuff", showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue) trough and trough!
Which brought him to the dilemma of his third point.
Back inside the room with him, the poor sacrificial representative their client had sent had interpreted his body language and surprised curses as him being two seconds away from going full Mando'ad on him.
Which had the surprisingly pleasant effect of actually getting him an apology and an offer to raise their payment as well as an audience with his father.
It turns out the poor aid had been the son of one of the board members he had tried to procure a meeting with for months. Their company was de facto in charge of shipping lanes that were ideally placed for their medical imports and Jaster desperately wanted them.
It would not just shorten their supply line but make securing them another source of bacta actually feasible.
Jaster could not pass on an opportunity like that and as Mand’alor his people came before even his own heart.
So he let the relieved looking boy too set up their meeting while he himself sent a message and the HUD footage of his buy’ce (helmet) to one of his ori'ramikad (supercommando) back in the hangar. Jaster had actually meant to record evidence of the aid that tried to pull one over on him and had so recorded his lovely lunatic as well.
Myles would shadow his runi riduur (soulmate) for him and make sure Jaster would have whatever information he needed to find them later.
A confirmation came back in a heartbeat and Jaster knew he would be reviewing the footage he sent while already on the move.
Him and his entire squad apparently, judging from the amount of cheering, curses, and disbelieving comments, that suddenly spammed their internal comms.
He made sure to mute them and with one last wistful look out the window and started to follow the aid out the door.
Only to stop cold on the spot. His soulmate had already picked their child up piggyback and made to leave the balcony.
Just not through the door.
No, Jaster just about caught how his dini'la runi riduur (insane soulmate) jumped off the balcony, only to land gracefully on the next one, 10 stories below them, and presumably did so until they reached the ground at which point they long since left Jaster’s field of vision.
All of that with such lightness, as if gravity itself only touched them gently. He knew of one group of people that were said to move in such fashion.
And it made so much sense, the stunt on the balcony alone looked only marginally possible for someone to perform, but then the jetiise (Jedi) were known for their magical connection with the ka’ra.
Jaster knew they could float objects too and if Jaro had done so, the soft fabric made toy tangled up in the iron decoration would most likely have been damaged.
So his runi went through all this trouble instead of risking something precious to their adiik (child).
Kandosii'la bal ori'mando (Stunning/Amazing and very mandalorian)
His soul mate might possibly be insane, had most definitely mandokarla ( having the "right stuff", the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue, showing guts and spirit) and Jaster was already buy'ce (helmet) over heels in love with them.
.
.
.
.
One step closer to his runi riduur (soulmate) and what felt like the entire galaxy back.
His commandos had only managed to track them to their departure platform but lost them in the crowd without ever seeing which ship they got on.
Not for lack of enthusiasm on their part, it must be said. The footage of his Jaro casually hanging almost eighty levels above ground to rescue an adiik’s (child's) toy had lit fire under most of his squad and the ever growing circle of Haat Mando'ade (True Mandalorians) that had watched the footage.
It was a long standing joke that the first skill a Mando'ad in the field perfected was gossiping.
Which had the fortunate side effect of his best slicers volunteering themselves to drop everything and come so they could decode the space ports log system. Being the one to find the Mand’alors runi riduur (soulmate) would certainly guarantee bragging rights for life.
Jaster had a strong feeling that his own squad's designated slicer was already prepped to dive in long before he managed to green light it in the middle of the meeting.
Either that or Atii‘s thirst for overly dramatic runi riduur (soulmate) stories truly inspired peak performance in her, because just a few minutes passed and she started sending him hours of security footage and lists of the registered vehicles and passengers on the platform.
All with the promise they were already working on an algorithm to cross check the HUD footage of his Jaro and their adiik (child) with those of the departure platform.
Atii could probably tell him what the conductors had for dinner if she found it relevant information. After all, she somehow always got them to watch those melodramatic soulmate holos with her whenever they were in hyperspace.
The grape vine for all its effectiveness had one major down turn, and it currently barreled down the corridor towards him like an enraged Reek.
For all his hot headedness, Jaster was pleased to see his son only fell in step with him as he moved away from the meeting room, without giving their new business partners a show of Mando'ad familial indignation.
Jaster had finished writing an entire Codex for his people, had united warring Clans and been made Mand’alor by them, but if he truly managed to get politics and diplomacy into his son’s thick head it would still be the crowning achievement of his life.
“You find your runi riduur (soulmate) and I have to find out through the Haat Mando’ade (True Mandalorians) gossip channels!”
The internal comms were of course a different matter.
“It’s been not even an hour Jan’ika and for the record I’ve only shared the footage with Myles”.
He knew his son well enough to picture the way his brows furrowed the longer he chewed at that statement.
“Buir what did you see them do? Myles would have never shared the video without your say so, if he didn’t have some kind of additional information.”
“True”, Jaster answers.
The silence persisted for several heartbeats before his son's inpatients and curiosity won over his annoyance of being prompted to showcast his reasoning.
With the obligatory dramatic sigh every teenager seems to master in the face of their parents' antics he laid down his train of thought.
“After you ended the HUD recording, because that was definitely cut footage, Ja’buir must have done or reacted in some drastic way. Something that could become relevant for Myles when he followed them, or you would have kept it to yourself.
It can’t have been anything horrible about their character or you wouldn’t take the time to drag me through another one of your analytic lessons right now”, Jaster could feel his son's long-suffering side eye and grinned into his helmet despite it all.
“but it is something that made Myles question his ability to shadow Ja’buir, enough to get the entire squad involved.”
Jango's voice had taken on the crisp cadence of a war room meeting at that point, but something must have occurred to him just now.
“It’s a dicey enough fact, he didn’t want the others to think too hard about it and instead distracted them with the HUD footage.”
There was a reason Jango so shortly after his verd'goten (Mandalorian rite of passage to adulthood) was already leading his own squad of young warriors. Jaster skillfully ignored the wave of joy he felt, when his son called his runi riduur (soulmate) by using Jaster’s own working title for them, Jaro, and adding buir at the end of it. There was a time for overwhelming feelings, on the hunt was not one of them.
“Really good Jango, but you missed one.”
“Oh?”
“Non of the squad would have shared the video further if I had told them to keep it underwraps.”
They had finally made it out of the building and were aiming for their own docking bay at the port. Jaster let him ponder his statement until they almost reached the ship, at which point his son finally gave up and just asked.
“Are they in danger so more people looking means you find them faster?”
“No, I want the commandos' first impressions of them to be about their actions and character instead of what I think they might be.”
The silence afterwards was heavier, lasting until all of them gathered for the mission report in the war room.
What they had gathered wasn’t as much as he hoped, but more than the nothing he had started to brace himself for.
For one they had video evidence towards which departure platform they headed, narrowing down the list of possible ships they could have taken off with.
Myles himself had talked to the conductor on duty and gave the vague description they had. The result was Jaster now had a few barebone facts about Jaro foremost among them, the names she had registered her son and herself under.
Jiira Nevur’ell and her son Mari. Which were…
“That cannot be her name”, burst out of Kiso, reflecting the various levels of disbelief shared all round.
“I mean Mari is a pretty common name across the galaxy…”, Atti argued, only to earn an even more incredulous look from the Twi'lek.
“So you honestly believe that her name translating to ‘Now or not-ever’ and her child’s to ‘Move’ in Mando’a is a complete accident.
Are you sure she didn’t see you first, Mand'alor? Because that is the most indirect direct call for a Runi Allik Oya'kar (Soul Sigil Hunt (An ancient Mandalorian custom of ‘hunting down’ your soulmate to proof your capability to them)) I’ve ever heard!”
For a moment he had thought the same, but he knew better than to fall for the confirmation bias just because his heart and soul wanted it to be true.
“The boy's name is Mari, not Nari and the former is, as Atti said, a perfectly widespread name. Same goes for her first name Jiira, if spelled a bit differently than the norm.”
“And I guess Nevur’ell gets dismissed because it switched one vowel and got an apostrophe instead of space in between.”
“Which makes it a totally different word in a Galaxy full of diverse cultures and languages. Fact is none of them wear anything that would hint at them being Mando'ad, all fractions taken into account, and I can promise you she has not seen me at the port.”
The windows were one way and Jar- Jiira then had more pressing matters to focus on than one random person looking out the window.
“More important right now,” Jaster cut Kiso off before he could needle Atii again, his or’amikade immediately falling in line at his tone, “is that we know the ship she travels with and that she asked if the Corellien Travel Market had already moved on to Anaxes. After she got her assumption confirmed she only paid for a five hour time slot to refuel and is presumably on her way there.”
Myles gave him a look at that. “So you deny the name is suspicious but still take her up on the offer of a hunt then?”
“Me searching her out was never in question” and with that they moved on to distribute responsibilities in his absence.
After all, information gathering could be done by the community, but no Mando’ade (True Mandalorians) worth their armor would let the first meeting of their runi riduur (soulmate) turn into some kind of driven hunt.
Ripping from the sidelines?
Sure.
Listening for news and betting on the outcome?
Of course.
But no active participation if you had any honor at all.
Only after everyone had finally gone to their quarters did Jango turn back to him. His face was tense and more serious than Jaster had seen it in a long time, but it was the way his silence lingered that made Jaster realize that something more was a foot with his son.
“Jan’ika?” he called him softly.
Jango let out a slow breath before squaring his shoulders.
"Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la" (*Nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you'll be.*) It doesn’t matter if Ji’buir is a Vizla or former Kyr'tsad (Death Watch). And if she really named herself Jiira Nevur’ell to mean now or not-ever, then it might even be a freedom name after leaving them behind. So, as long as she acts like she did in the footage, I’ll be looking forward to you bringing her and Mar’ika home.”
Jaster, well first of all he drew his brilliant, brave son into a mirshmure'cya (Keldabe kiss (lit. brain-kiss), slang for headbutt) because for all his teenage glory, Jango was already twice the man the cowered Tor could ever hope to be.
“Jango, I saw her pick up her adiik (child) and then jump down a dozen levels towards the next balcony as if it was a nice afternoon activity.”
In any other situation he would have laughed at his son's stumped look, but his throat was still too raw for that.
“You think she is a jetii?”
“I don’t know. The only thing I really have going for that suspicion is her on-off relationship with gravity and it isn’t like the jetiise (Jedi) have a monopoly on Ka'ra given powers. Nor do I believe anyone, even someone with mystical powers, would take an adiik (child) that young on any kind of mission. The jetiise (Jedi) are known for valuing their adiik (child) as much as we do.”
Neither of them said the old proverb out loud but they were both thinking of it. If you go after the Padawan, make sure the Master is dead.
Jango had thankfully lost the brooding air he had since they entered the ship and told him with a much more upbeat tone.
“The jetiise (Jedi) aren't allowed to have adiik (child) right? She probably can’t be one of them.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
Jango took that as the end of their conversation and with a nod as if having confirmed something to himself moved towards the exit, but not without turning around in the door frame one last time.
His shit eating grin told Jaster everything he needed to know about what his next words would be.
“You better hurry up than old man, or my vod’ika (little brother) will have his verd'goten (Mandalorian rite of passage to adulthood) and challenge you to a akaanir briirud (Fight/Battle Circle, here it means the old custom of an adult member of your soulmate’s family testing your worth/valour) before then.”
Jaster ruffled his hair in punishment, both knowing full well the child could not have been older than seven