Between Martyrdom and Murder... Welcome to the DLA

[Meira]

The silence between Mo and Dutch as they walked through the cramped hallways of homestead was almost enough to drown out the dull thud of their boots. All those that encountered the two DLA heads found themselves speechless at the sight of them; Mo with her stone tight jawline and ice blue eyes, Dutch with the frightening splatters of blood across his face and an expression that told all to stay twenty feet away. The air around the two was like a solid wall. No one could break through it.

Their angry procession paraded the two through the common areas of Homestead and straight to the one room that only the highest ranking DLA members could enter. The command room was in the main level of the base next to the comm room. It was the most fortified room in the base, with thick, solid walls that cut off all sound and electrical signals.

The heavy door slammed behind the two as they stepped through the threshold. Not a nanosecond after it was closed, Mo rounded on Dutch. The entire ride back to Homestead had provided Mo's initial fear time to boil into pure anger. What she had seen Dutch do to that Sith soldier was beyond what she could believe he would do. It was beyond what she considered anywhere near acceptable. She didn't recognize the man that Dutch had become when he appeared in that clearing.

What you did out there is NOT what we're about Dutch!

Her eyes were nearly overflowing with tears as she spat the words at the man she didn't even want to look at anymore. Already her breathing was labored after holding in her rage during their long walk through Homestead. It was good fortune that they'd made it to the command room when they did. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold it back any longer.

Dutch’s jaw clenched at her words, he leaned close and raised a hand to point right at Mo’s face. There was no way she was going to sit there and scold him like he was some child over what he did. It wasn’t about the man himself, it was about the message Dutch had sent the Sith- That the DLA was not a group that would back down, or be walked all over.

Don't you tell me what we're about! This is a war we're fighting, we are SOLDIERS- not some kiddy-sh** scout group. If it gets these bastards off our planet, then this is what I have to do!

Mo shook her head, a few tears now falling down her cheeks, running along the dried out lines from the ones she'd cried during the ride back home. This wasn't right. She knew to her core that what Dutch had done was far beyond cruel. It was so close to evil it made her skin crawl.

We can't be like them. If we sink to their level, we're no better than they are!

He watched as the tears fell down Mo’s cheeks, a sight he normally would have been heartbroken to see, but she was wrong. Dutch clenched his fists and turned away from Mo. How could she even say such a thing? After all she had lost, after all he had lost, Dutch thought Mo of all people would understand the actions he was taking- morally correct or not. A flare of hot anger bubbled up from his gut, he felt betrayed, ticked off that she even felt like she cold scold him. With a swift backhand he nailed a lamp that sat on the chamber’s stone table and sent it smashing into the wall. Its remains crumbled onto the floor as Dutch knocked over a chair that sat right by him.

Oh, there we go. Break some stuff. There's a real man! You're drunk aren't you?

Mo crossed her arms, her face contorting into a smug glare as she watched Dutch's apish display. She remembered this Dutch. Drunk off his ass and attacking everything around him. This was the Dutch that didn't think straight. And in the position of power he was in now, this would be the Dutch that got people killed, unless she could get him to snap out of it. And apparently, her words had done something along those lines. The man had stopped his physical tirade for a moment to shout his retort.

Did she really just go there? Of all the things Mo could have called him out on, she chose that. Regardless though, Dutch took a deep breath and decided if he kept up this behavior, Mo wouldn’t see his points. Not that she would anyway, he was still slightly buzzed from his drinks earlier- but that didn’t mean he was out of his mind. Hell, he deserved a couple drinks after the times that had hit the DLA. He inhaled harshly and slapped his chest before starting at her again.

I'm in charge here! Or did you forget that? I call the shots! I make the hard decisions! I will do whatever it takes to keep those people from losing what we've lost!

And lose yourself in the process?! I can't let you do that, Dutch! I won't see you turn into the same kind of monsters that they are! Mo tried to raise her voice to match his, but it faltered through the last words.

Dutch scoffed at her words, as if that mattered. Who cared how it happened, as long as the Sith got their blasted asses of his world. He would give anything to see Dantooine free- his soul, his life, whatever she asked. Mo obviously didn’t understand, how could she? She wasn’t native to the planet, she hadn’t only known it as her home. Dutch glanced at her sideways with a glare.

What do YOU care anyway? We ain’t an item, I don’t owe you anything.

Mo had to clench her jaw shut for a moment to keep the sob from escaping her lips. Tears now flowed freely from her eyes as she fought her body's urge to break down. Again, an anger welled up inside of her. Fueled by memories of a broken, depressed Dutch all that time ago after Lilly had left to go to medical school, her anger forced back the tears and instead flooded her arms. She sprung forward, her hands colliding against Dutch's chest as she shouted back at him.

I care about YOU damn it!

The instant she'd pushed him, Mo felt a flash of fear through her body. Her eyes had connected with his, and in them she saw a terrifying rage. This rage was so strong in Dutch that he'd already pulled his arm back to lay down a devastating blow, but something stopped him from carrying the punch through. The fear in Mo's eyes quickly turned to something more akin to disdain. She bit her lip against the thought, but couldn't stop herself from speaking the words.

I'm so glad your father can't see you now.

Even as the words were spoken, Mo knew she couldn't have struck a lower blow. She could see the flood of emotions play across Dutch's face, and knew she'd only opened up another wound on top of the ones he was already suffering from.

Don't you DARE bring him into this!

Dutch bellowed with much vigor. If he wasn’t already angry, hurt, shocked, and in pain enough at almost striking Mo, he was beyond that point now. She had went there, where Dutch was sure Mo of all people would never even think of treading. How could she POSSIBLY know what HIS father would want to see? He kicked over another chair and spat at Mo’s feet. Dutch couldn’t stand the look Mo was giving him, he wouldn’t take one more moment of this, so he stormed towards the door as his boots clopped loudly on the stone floor.

He wouldn't stand for what you did, and you know it! She pursued him even as he tried to flee. Though she knew she'd hurt him, and badly, Mo held on to the one argument she knew would speak to his heart.

Wrong! He would do what he had to. He would do it to protect his family! And that's what I'm doing. Protecting you and everyone else. He growled with a wave of his hand, refusing to even look at Mo. But she had other plans.

Mo forced herself back into Dutch's line of sight. It was a bold move to place herself so close the raging beast he'd become. But part of Mo knew that Dutch could never hurt her. And she had to drive the point home.

Your father would have done what is right! And what you did... the way you beat that man... that wasn't right. And it sure as hell wasn't to protect us! She paused for a moment, her head spinning, near dizzy from whirl of emotions the thought had stirred up. That was... inhuman.

Dutch leaned in close, his nose almost touching hers as he glared deeply into her blue eyes. His lips sneered at he as he looked her up and down. She wanted to strike low blows, then she better take them. In a low, slow voice, he took his shot.

What the hell do you know about being human, Green?

Tit-for-tat. Mo had hit Dutch where it hurt, and now he had returned the favor. Perhaps he'd known all these years, perhaps he hadn't. It didn't matter. Dutch had just struck the one insecurity Mo had tried to hide from the world ever since she and her family had come to work at the Sampson estate. How she could hide it was almost comical. How could she hide her green skin? Among all the people that worked for the Sampsons, Mo and her parents were part of the very small group of non-humans. She'd cursed her Mirialan heritage secretly many times. At one point in her life she was sure it was the reason why Dutch had sought Lilly's affection rather than her own. She'd never shared the insecurity openly, with anyone, and she thought she'd buried it long ago. But it welled back up in her now, so much so that she could barely speak.

A... a damn bit more than you. That's for sure.

[Rugs]

Things weren't supposed to go like this. Today was supposed to be a relatively quiet day. I guess the gods laugh at plans, then, Allistair thought irritably as he rushed through the Homestead.

Just a few minutes ago, he'd been out, sitting on one of the cliffs that overlooked the sea near the Homestead and playing his harmonica out under the stars. It'd been nice, just having a chance to sit alone with only his thoughts and the lights in the sky to keep him company. As far as he'd known, his brother was off doing the same, out drinking with one of his men out in Flint. He didn't know where Mo was, though. She was around, he was sure. And so for about an hour, he'd had the joy of having time to get away from all of the stress that the DLA brought. He was away from the garage. He was away from everyone else. He was away from the fighting. I'll have to go find Kabira in a little bit, he thought. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was always good to see Kabira.

His alone time was refreshing, though he knew it couldn't last for long. He didn't expect it to come crashing down quite in the way it did, though.

As he'd been sitting there, letting a solemn tune ring out for those who'd been lost in the fighting, he was approached by Glitch and Candi. It was a rare thing to see Glitch out of her little operations center, but for some reason, she was always accompanied by Candi, the mute tattooist. Al was in high spirits, though, and didn't think anything of their sudden appearance. "Hey, Glitch, Candi," he called out to them as he stood and turned to face them. He broke out into a youthful grin as he looked at them. "Come to sit out here with me?"

Glitch smiled, but there was a touch of sorrow to it, that suddenly made Al a bit nervous. "I'd love to, hun, but now's not the time. I hate to interrupt your playin', but you might want to go see your brother and Mo." She must have seen the look of confusion that passed over Al's face, because she continued on. "To make a long story short, we've got some newcomers. Mo, Saerith, and Xander went out to greet them and give 'em a hand against some Sith. Kiala went out too." Glitch went quiet for a moment and her mouth worked as she looked for the words to say. Candi laid a hand on her shoulder. "We lost Xander," she said after a few moments of tense quiet. Al almost spoke, but she held her hand up to silence him and kept going. "At the end of everything, Kiala tried to bring a Sith back here." Everyone knew that was a no-go. Absolutely no Sith were ever to be brought back to the Homestead. They couldn't afford to lose this place like they'd lost the crystal cave. "Mo was hot, and your brother's not much better. They just got back a moment ago. Glitch shook her head. "And they both look all sorts of pissed off. You might want to go see if you can calm them down a bit.

For a moment, the only sound was that of the waves hitting the cliff down below. A cool wind blew in from the sea, bringing the smell of salt along with it. Allistair sighed heavily and put his harmonica into one of his jacket pockets before running a hand through his messy brown hair. Xander lost, a Sith almost brought back to the base, Dutch and Mo pissed off... "And tonight was supposed to be an easygoing night," he muttered with a rueful smile. "Thanks for the heads up, Glitch. I'll go see what I can do." Glitch put a hand on his shoulder and nodded, and then he set off into the Homestead to find the other two Commune members.

So he found himself hurrying through the Homestead's corridors, hoping to whatever gods sat above that nothing too bad was going on. Though, if the mood in the others that he passed by was anything to go by, something was definitely up. It was tense. Too tense. The Homestead was usually a fairly relaxed place. Sure, the undertones of the stress that the fighting caused were perhaps always there, but it was never like this. What's going on, he thought as he rounded a corner. He was on the verge of breaking into a run, but he had to stay calm. If Dutch and Mo's nerves were frayed, he'd have to be the one to keep a level head. But surely they weren't that out of it.

A few moments later he was at the door into the command room. He paused for a moment and ran his hand through his hair again. He could feel his heartbeat racing, and he didn't really want to deal with whatever might be going on in there. Not tonight. But it couldn't be helped. So with a final sigh, he quietly opened the door and slipped in.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

They were yelling at each other. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but they were far beyond where he thought they'd be. Right when he came into the room, slowly closing the door behind him, Mo'd said "I'm so glad your father can't see you now." Well, that couldn't be good. Before he could speak up to say something though, Dutch responded angrily, kicking over a chair, and yelling back at her. The pair continued on for a few moments more, until a brief silence came over the room. A very, very tense silence.

If Al was going to say something, it'd have to be now. But what? Dealing with these two right now would be like navigating an orchard of mines. If he stepped poorly... Then the idea hit him. He could say something a bit silly, perhaps. Sure, it might make them mad, but he'd much rather have their ire drawn to him than each at each other. It might help. Or it might make things worse. There was only one way to find out.

"Man, I hate it when mom and dad fight." He said it softly, but in the resounding silence, it was all that was needed to be heard clearly by both of them. He took a few steps forward from the place near the door where he'd been standing, and was a bit surprised at the nervousness he felt in the pit of his stomach. It was odd, really. He was the tallest one in the room, but it felt like Dutch and Mo loomed over him. But there was nothing to be done, so he pressed on. "Look, we're on the same team, right?" He looked to both of them in turn before going on. "Now, what happened?"

[Dutch]

Dutch snorted at Mo's response. He sneered openly at her and turned away from the Mirialan. As if she knew what she was talking about. Both her parents had died from natural causes, they were torn from her heart in one brutal instant that left a void no amount of alcohol or killing filled. It was only as he turned away that he noticed Al. His younger brother looked at Dutch in a way he rarely saw, but when he spoke, Dutch's eyes narrowed.

He stepped forward and pushed a finger into Al's chest, which happened to be held much higher than his own. But Dutch didn't back down he prodded Al a couple times with a look of contempt. What a stupid question for the man to ask, and he was supposed to be the smart brother out of the pair. Dutch stepped away like he wasn't going to say anything until he turned back and punched Al roughly in the shoulder- not enough to cause any damage, but well enough to hurt.

"What happened? I'll tell you what happened, Homestead was almost compromised, that spaced bimbo ya'll brought into MY home almost screwed us to the point of no return. I REFUSE to see my house burn a third time. I will do WHATEVER it takes to protect this place, and take down the Sith- and none of you seem to realize the measures we need to take."

With a heavy sigh Dutch stepped towards the door, and peered backwards at the tearful Mo and his brother. How young they both looked as they stood there, helpless and scared. What horrible deity would allow a trio as young as Dutch, Mo and Al to lead a desperate struggle against one of the greatest evils in the galaxy? What twisted being wanted to see them deal with disaster after disaster, death after death. Most people at their age were out partying and dating, and yet here they were, a bunch of farmers on a backwater world, stranded and deserted by the Republic. It sickened Dutch.

If they didn't need him so much, Dutch would leave that night, and work solo against the Sith. If they didn't approve of his actions, or his ways, then he might need to do so. But that look those two gave him... it sickened Dutch. It wasn't the look he was used to, they looked at him as if he was some sort of animal, a creature, a monster. His stomach churned and he turned away from them with his back facing Mo and Al.

"Make sure the new people are shown the bunks, and that they mind their manners. And have Kia grounded, revoke hangar clearance until I say otherwise."

He pressed the panel to let himself out of the room, and was met with a head of blond hair and armor. Lot's of armor. Dutch raised an eyebrow, but figured it was one of the new people. He narrowed his eyes and grunted.

"Choo lookin' at blondie?"

Dutch growled as he shoved past the armored lady. He was far from in the mood to deal with new folk- he could hardly stand his own people at that moment. Dutch coughed and felt his chest ache at the very thought of that evening, the looks Al and Mo had given him, he never wanted to see that again. He blinked his eyes shut as the sting of tears tried to well up in them, and Dutch turned his head to look back into the commune chamber one last time, and caught Mo's eye. The white's of his eyes were reddened from the strain of trying not to tear up, and there was pain, so much pain held in that one look, it made him sick to let it slip if even just for a millisecond.

He turned away from the Mirialan's gaze, and walked down the halls until finally he hit a turn in them, and was grateful to no longer be seen by them....

{Dutch Exits}

[Meira]

Dutch could spit all he wanted. He could snort, scowl, sneer... he could even stick his tongue out at her now. She didn't see him anymore. She was far too busy holding back the flood of tears. He'd hurt her to the point that she couldn't feel any more of it. Anything he added on top would just spill over the side. She could only hold so much pain at one time. She'd hardly registered Al's arrival, or what he had said. All the better for him perhaps.

Mo bit her lip until Dutch left the room. She'd kept her eyes held fast in front of her, any movement might have broken the levy. When she heard Dutch leaving, she risked turning her head. It was a mistake. She could see the anger, the hurt inside of him, and knew how deep it ran. She knew she'd cut into that current and brought it closer to the surface. She knew this was because she'd failed to make him see. But how could she? How could she convince a man like Dutch, who loved his father so, who loves his planet so, that he is wrong in how he defended it? To a heart so broken, the shades of gray fade fast, and to Dutch... it was all red. It was all blood.

Seeing the pain in him and knowing that she had a part in bringing it all back to mind was too much for the Mirialan woman to bear. the damn broke and the tears flowed again. She lost all sense of propriety and shame as she threw herself at the other man in the room, her other brother. Her arms clamped around his neck and she nearly lost the ability to stand on her own two feet as her face fell into Al's chest and she cried. Her whole body shook with the sobs, and in moments Al's shirt was soaked. But she didn't stop for some time yet.

When the wave finally subsided, Mo stood up straighter, untangling her arms from around Al's shoulders. She mumbled out an apology, though her throat was a bit dry and hoarse. She coughed to clear it, then repeated herself.

I'm sorry Al. I just.... She had to bite her tongue to keep the tears from returning. I'm so scared for him. She finally lifted her eyes to meet his. Those blue orbs pleaded for him to understand. Mo had already failed to reach one brother. If Al refused to see her side of things, she didn't know if she could handle that.

Only then did Mo notice that they were not alone in the room. Someone had joined them. At first, Mo didn't recognize the woman, not until she stopped looking at her face and noticed her armor. This was the Republic soldier. Against her conscious will, Mo's eyes widened with this realization. She didn't really know why she had expected a man, but this blond woman was a shock.

Mo's hand reached out, smacking against Al's arm, the one Dutch had punched on his way out, as she tried to turn him towards their guest. She'd had no time to recover and transition between the emotional argument with Dutch and now this. It was time to greet their newest arrival.

[Rugs]

Allistair recognized the look his brother gave him when Dutch took notice that he was in the room. It wasn't a good look. Dutch was pissed, though that much had been obvious when Al walked into the room to find his brother and Mo yelling at each other like a married couple. Al knew that Dutch could be rash when he was in a rage, and when his brother started to storm over to him, he realized that he might not escape this unscathed. Better that he get hit than Mo, though, no that Allistair could imagine Dutch ever hitting the Mirilian. But Al had been hit by Dutch plenty of times before, in the way that all brothers are, and he'd survive, should it come to that.

His pulse quickened noticeably when Dutch drew near enough to poke one of his fingers into Al's chest, though his face remained placid and he met Dutch's glare flatly. He could see the anger burning in those green eyes, but there was more. There was pain. For an instant, Al's mind flashed back to the time after Lily had left Dantooine to pursue her medical career. Dutch had been in pain then, too. And, now, looking at his older brother, Al thought he could see echoes of it; the cause was obviously different, and Dutch was more angry now that sad, but it was there. Of course, Al had eventually gotten tired of Dutch's moping after Lily left, and confronted him, knocking him onto his ass with a good punch to the face. Perhaps things would come to that again, if no one could talk sense into Dutch. But Al needed to focus on the here and now.

Dutch continued to prod him for a few moments more, though Al refused to break the lock with his brother's eyes. Eventually, Dutch turned around, and Al thought for a moment that he wasn't going to say anything.

Boy, was he wrong.

Dutch turned on his heel, and before Al could react, his brother's fist slammed into his shoulder, and a wave of pain spread out from the blow. Al winced slightly and grunted, and almost grabbed at his shoulder, but again, refused to. The place where he'd been hit ached dully, and would more than likely bruise, but other than that, nothing would come of it. For the time being, he would not give Dutch the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt him, and instead continued to keep his gaze locked steadily into his brother's eyes. He did not notice, however, that his hands had subconsciously clenched into fists so tightly that that they were starting to shake.

It was then that Dutch launched out into his angry tirade, and while it certainly got the point that he was angry across, it didn't tell Al anything more than he already knew. That was a little frustrating, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. Instead, Al simply nodded as if Dutch had given the best explanation in the world, and turned to watch him leave. Al closed his eyes to think for a moment and they opened again at Dutch's order. Have Kia's hangar clearance revoked, eh? "Right. I'll take care of that as soon as possible." With that, his brother disappeared into the compound.

Before Al could do anything else, Mo was on him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders--one of which screamed in protest as she pressed against where he'd been punched, though Al could do little more grunt softly from the pain. A moment later, she was crying into his chest, and couldn't think of anything to say, so he just hugged her and let her cry. And all I wanted to do tonight was play my harmonica, he thought sarcastically. Instead, he'd found out that Kia had screwed something up, been punched, and now his shirt was getting soaked. The things he did for the DLA...

"Yeah, I know," he said to Mo's words. "I worry too, sometimes. I understand." Mo looked up at him, and then past him, and apparently noticed someone else in the room and slapped his arm--the same one that'd just been punched--to get him to turn around. The part of Al that was still very much concerned with the things that a young man would be concerned with feared that Kabira had come in and seen him hugging Mo, and brief panic surged through him; though, he doubted that Kabi would take it the wrong way, given the events that had been going on leading up to it. But there was no reason to worry about it as the person was... well, they were someone.

It was a woman in armor, and not a woman Al had ever seen before. This must be that newcomer Glitch was talking about. And how exactly could he possibly transition from what had just been going on to properly seeing to a newcomer? He couldn't think of anything, so he just put on a stupid grin and said "Welcome to the DLA."

[Dire Wolf]

Lifeless gray eyes stared up at the spartan ceiling fan as its flat and wide blades lazily rounded the motor in the center, which barely had enough power to cast a barely feelable breeze. The body attached to those boulders of slate was casually sprawled out on the bed, the thick plates of its durasteel alloy power armor making it somewhat awkward to even think of getting comfortable. Which was what she was working on. Her previous set of body armor, the one that was rendered useless in the explosion on Tatooine, was to the point where she could literally do anything within its protective confines. Sleep, eat, even take a trip to the head. Though the latter was a little strange. The n7 armor was certainly an amazning piece of wartime engineering, but it also certainly had its downfalls, namely flexibility.

Lanara was had mastered the art of Teras Kasi, or the steel hand. She needed little flexibility, though it seemed that a thick plate was there to remind her just how much of a speedy turtle she was during one of those rare times when flexibility in combat was required. Which brought her back to the subject of, "why the hell am I trying to sleep in a suit of armor." It was simple, really: she constantly wore the suit to fully test its strengths, weaknesses, range of motion, and all in all make it something of a second skin. Not to mention that what little she wore underneath the thick suit of armor was hardly what she'd enjoy walking around a base in, so her suit of armor would act as a psuedo uniform until she was either issued one or managed to find a set of clothes.

Her mind flashed back to the events that lead her up to this point. The jail, that scumbag Lucian, the first time she laid eyes on Remiel (which was less than a good thing at the time), the death of her crew, Ocelot, Balosar and her near death experience there, that little chat with Rem where she discovered she wasn't a human, and... last for now, but certainly not least... Tatooine. That whole mission was a boondoggle, and an idiotic thing to even try. Stealing from a hutt was never a wise thing to do, especially when that hutt happens to be one of the most powerful crime bosses in existence. Chalk up another thing that got someone killed due to her tendency to act before thinking. Granted, she wasn't in a position at the time to change their mission to Tatooine, but if she left then Remiel certainly would have as well. He had tasked himself to protect her, after all. Idiot man. Could have just used that magic Force power thing to stop the rockets or whatever, instead of launching himself out of the shuttle and killing the guys with the rocket launcher. Always had been overprotective of her.

An angry growl rumbled her vocal chords as she shot up from her casual position on the bed and paced around the room. Her anger was not at Remiel, but at herself. Had she simply stayed on the Red October instead of rushing down to help him perhaps he would be alive right now. Certainly not safe, but alive, and he certainly would have found her eventually. A little rueful smirk tugged at a corner of her lips. He certainly had a talent in that area. Instead, he sacrificed himself to ensure her safety. Then her team was decimated due to sabotage, and Xander sacrificed himself to buy her enough time to get away. When she combined that with the deaths of her parents and her crew and mixed the cocktail with the realization that it had all been because of her, well, one tends grow a little angry at oneself. Such was the case with Lanara.

The blonde didn't give herself enough time to grieve over the loss of her friends, or to mope over Rem, or mull over the last words that her parents heard from her mouth. No. Instead, the woman shot out of her own room and strode down the halls of the DLA base. She had a job to do, and it sure as hell wasn't to mope about over what she couldn't change. It wasn't particularly long until the Rilan woman found her way to the inner sanctum of the DLA leadership, a room that she obviously wasn't going to get in any time so-

Naturally, just as the woman thought that, the thick doors opened and a big (obviously angry) man stormed out and away from a taller man who was wrapped in the embrace of a Miralian woman. Her eyebrow instinctively quirked. It didn't stay arched for long, of course, as the angry man let out one of those angry/arrogant "what're ya lookin' at" comments, to which she let a quick glance and a, "nothin' much."

Lanara, not in the mood to give two flying mynock fracks about the protocol of greeting one's superiors or entering the heart of the DLA leadership, walked into the room with an aire of urgency about her step. The matte black plates of her armor lightly tapped against each other as she walked, and those grey eyes had since become streaked with a faint red. If that angry man hadn't retreated so fast he would've gotten a swift Teras Kasi-knee to the gut and an armored boot to the shin. "Thanks," she said when the taller man greeted her, and forced a smile... all of her smiles had been forced, lately."I'm sorry about your lost man, Xander. He... 'e was a personal friend of mine," she paused for a minute, wondering just why she considered him a friend, "I'm Staff Sergeant Lanara Skysiri, 'ere ta 'elp y'all any way that I can. Wish we couldda been meeting like this over better circumstances." Those red-streaked gray eyes shifted down to the green woman, then at the dull black plates of her durasteel boots, "thanks for savin' my arse back there, ma'am. Wouldn't be standin' right 'ere if you didn't show up."

[Meira]

Mo mentally scrambled to get herself back together. A blush came across her cheeks from the embarrassment, the slight hint of red looking odd against her green skin. Her hands wiped frantically around her eyes, trying to dry them, but only succeeding in adding more red to the skin there as blood rushed to the area. Finally, she gave up on the attempts, shrugging her shoulders slightly before reaching her hand out to shake Lanara's.

We're sorry too. There was some confusion about a rule with one of our somewhat newer members. I'm Mo, this is Al. That angry guy that went storming out of here was Dutch.

Mo went through the names quickly, dismissing Lanara's thanks with a slight wave of her hand. It wasn't needed. This woman was, after all, here to help them. Helping her was a given. Even if she hadn't been here to help the DLA.... it was what they did.

Mo didn't comment on Xander's loss. She hadn't really known the man, only seen him around and knew that he had joined. It wasn't that his loss didn't affect her. Quite the contrary, but with all the fighting and having witnessed what Dutch had done, well... she didn't have room for it all at the moment.

A few silent moments passed and Mo found her eyes wandering the room, as if the things she should be saying might have been written on the walls. They weren't, of course, which meant she passed the moments feeling quite stupid. Between bawling her eyes out a moment ago, and now not knowing what to say to a Republic soldier sent to aid their efforts against the Sith... Mo felt like a child who'd stumbled into a mud pit and couldn't crawl her way out. She didn't belong here. It was too much responsibility for someone like her. For a common farm hand.

One of our people tried to bring a sith soldier back here, to Homestead. Dutch went off the deep end over that. We stopped them from getting the soldier here. That's when I left you with that speeder.... sorry. I went to ground them until Dutch could get there. When he did... he was a bit... over-zealous. No. He was cruel. That's what the argument was about. We don't allow prisoners at Homestead. It's too risky. But he didn't have to treat the man the way he did. You gotta understand. They've taken everything from us. Our homes, our land, our livelihood. But they've taken so much more from him and Al. They... well.

Mo stuttered to a halt from her ramble, looking back and forth between Lanara and Al. She wasn't sure why she suddenly decided to let all that information fall out of her mouth. Perhaps she felt like she needed to justify what might have appeared to be childish behavior. Taking a deep breath, which she let out slowly, she tried again.

This is about more than politics here. We're not soldiers. We're not fighting because we were ordered to. I'm sure you know it, but I feel like you have to understand. I really hope you can.

Her eyes started to wander around the room again, until they landed on a set of glass cups and a bottle of something alcoholic that was arranged on a shelf. The temptation was too great to pass up. She looked back at Al and Lanara.

How about a drink?