Log:Jedi Order: Hatchets and Burials
At least after the lightsaber was drawn and the subsequent silence that toddled after - Aryn Cortess was able to get Zalmub Jarrui and Yahjam Calkin to come, and with no one else of their respective ranching clans.
It was expected they'd be gathering up somewhere in Needleroot - but at least they weren't coming into the cooler, dimmer, confines of the Brand and Yowl pub. A fantastic shift from the scent of nerf, grazing field and the delightfully named 'road jangas' that the horned and fragrant animals left in their wake.
The rest of the tavern had, generally, cleared out when the warring clan elders made their appearance; leaving only a nervous tender and a pair of janky, jury-rigged server droids hovering around the grand, central, trencher table where everyone could get a place to sit during this ordeal.
In truth much of Needleroot has been clearing out with the clan heads being brought into town; a fifteen year feud with numerous deaths between each in the ongoing fighting. That there isn't blaster fire in the air with both so close together is practically saga-worthy in and of itself. It's sure that bets are being taken in other cantinas in town, that there are many tucking themselves away behind various forms of reinforced walling or possibly even arming themselves if its felt that the families need to get run out of town to preserve the well being of the rest.
Zal Jarrui sits on one end of the table, out of arm or leg reach of Yahjam Calkin; there is no lacking for staring daggers, weapons removed from their persons (at least those that could be found) and white knuckled fists avoid the mugs of lomin ale set before each. Pride or rage keeping them from slaking thirst. Maybe both and even a healthy dose of paranoia.
After making the trek through the fields and into the town, Rune could do with a drink. Fortunately it seemed his services as a negotiator and diplomat weren't needed, when were they ever, so the younger Ysannan at the greeting made his way to the bar to find one of those opened seats. The bartender gave the Jedi and his accompaniment a nervous look and requested what he would like to drink. After looking over the fuzzy holodisplayed menu, Rune scratches at his chin and points at a random selection, not really knowing the difference between one drink and the next.
Vhe has taken up a place where she can watch them both, a curious look crossing her face as she looks from one side to the other, a brow arching slowly as she steps forward and moves around the table to lean down towards Zeb's widow, a hand coming to her shoulder if allowed as the Ysanna speaks quietly with her.
A nod of her head is given as the colorful member of the Order releases the woman's shoulder and glances towards the floor, head bowed as she studies the woman quietly.
"Forgive me, but I think I understand the circumstances that could right all of this. Your husband did take those studs which began this feud. You can end...your husband has already paid the price. Perhaps that will be enough so that no one else need die. This can be mended."
Vega's been pretty quiet for most of this ordeal. Being a more last resort kind of thing. But when they'd finally got people to sit down the Echani had added some words of her own to try to help with getting the mood to drop from threat level blood shed to threat level table attained. The white haired woman takes a step back and lets others that might have more skilled words take the lead on things. Because she's still getting lessons in the diplomacy department.
Ewan had posted up outside, leaning against a wall near the door. He seemed unassuming and relaxed, even sporting a long piece of wheatgrass that hung from his lips. But, all the while, his eyes scanned the streets leading to and fro. Occasionally, a cerulean glance is given back inside, towards the others, to make sure they were still good. There were others taking lead on negotiations, so, keeping the family elders secure became a more suitable task.
Yuun walks with the others as they head into town, entering into the cantina, he takes a moment to just get a feel of his surroundings and watches for a few moments. He walks up to the bar and offers to pay for rounds and food for the whole cantina. He wanted to do something to help calm things down further and he asks the tender to not broadcast this information, but just state it's on the house if possible. He would pay the tender and get him a fizzy pop.
Jax had came to Needleroot a bit earlier than the others. Dantooine was always so boring it was intresting in the jedi's mind. There always seemed to be a story of intrigue or corruption. The town of Needleroot had turned up intresting intel for Jax but it was probably nothing that hadn't already been learned by the rest of the order from their discussions with the two rival ranch families. The number of jedi now in Needleroot has caught Jax's attention and the fact his sources of intel are drying up faster than old man Artoris' pond in the middle of a draught, Jax has started to make his way towards the Needleroot.
Aryn is among the last of those gathered to make it to the tavern, /finally/, and has long since deactivated the lightsaber she had used to force the family clans from inciting violence. It was not Aryn's proudest moment, but the symbol of the Jedi had to be invoked if these natives were going to take anything these outsiders had to say to heart. Aryn hoped it was more wonder than fear, but she had seen the look of many family members as they abandoned their weapons on the ground and ran from the sight of the humming sapphire blade at her command.
Making it to the tavern changed the environment entirely. The place no longer smelled of livestock and manure, it wasn't humid, and it was neutral ground. /That/ was a good start. Taking a deep breath before approaching the table, Aryn brushed her cape back and sat on one of the seats, properly folding her hands and looking between the two clan leaders as Vhe addressed them about the alleged source of their contention. Aryn listens for now, not wanting to flood them with dialogue all at once.
The atmosphere inside the Brand and Yowl is one of tension. Outside is much more calm. Chani stands on the wooden porch wrapped around the front of the pub with her arms folded over one another and the oversized sleeves of her robes hiding where one ends and the other begins. The day is trending towards night at this point: it had taken no small measure of time to deal with things out in the field and get the farming family that had called for mediators somewhere safe lest they be targeted for retaliation. Whisps of Chani's dark hair--those that remain unbound--tease at the nape of her neck and her cheeks, but she ignores the barely there touches of the errant tresses and instead keeps her gaze focused outwards onto the thoroughway that amounts to the main road.
Civilized it is not. It's dirt, carved up and full of valleys thanks to constant foot traffic of both sentients and animals aside. This town is aged, and Chani doesn't need the subtle groan of wood beneath her boot sole to tell her that. Everything here is dusty or weathered and wind-worn. Even the faces of the sentients passing by seem dried out into a permanent mask to reflect their simplistic existence. They live hard lives performing menial tasks and have few comforts seen in the greater galaxy beyond. It's admirable and depressing all at once. Chani steps forward towards the edge of the porch and drops her arms. Bracing her hands against the floor, she slips forward into a seated position with her legs dangling off and bent at the knee. A quiet breeze rolls by and despite the aforementioned thought, Chani finds something beautiful about the quiet.
Yahjam's expression is a mix of mournful and thunderous at once following Vhe's quiet words to her, hands slapping down on the table and risking Zal launching to his feet if not for the company involved.
"There isn' no proof'f that. My Zeb didn't take nothin' from no Jarrui who're just lookin' to find som'n othern' themselves to blame for their stock failin' and Calkin brand gettin' better from our fortune at the markets. Almost twenny years and they blame us, right up to Ohddi Jarrui murd'rin my Zeb and gettin' away with it!"
"No provin' my uncle did a damned thing Yahjam. Zeb took my stock and claimed he bought'm at market. Why cain't we find the seller? Why cain't we look at the books?!" almost standing again, Zal's hands are fists and the tension begins to build up anew.
More ale is brought to the table, even with mugs untouched as they are, along with a bit of cold water and some wine for the types not taking a liking to beer.
The slap of hands on the table immediately draws Rune's attention away from the bartender who is bustling about to fulfill his order. Hazel eyes narrow on the woman and her claim before they shift to the man across from he who rises to the tense occasion as well. It's seeming more and more to the novice Force user that there was one misunderstanding years and years ago and there may be no proving what was or should be by this time... both these families wrapped in their own made story, unwilling to back down for some sense of 'honor' or perceived slight, costing time, money, and the lives of everyone else.
He sighs and turns back to the bar to discover a mug waiting for him, a small smile lighting his face when he retrieves yon cup to lift to his nose for a nice long whiff. It certainly doesn't smell /that/ bad but it doesn't smell pleasant either. Either way, it seems it is what passes for a drink around here, the rest of the mugs going out containing the same substance. Rune lifts his shoulders in a small shrug and lifts the mug to his lips, a small sample being taken before a coughing fit erupts from the young Jedi, spraying a tiny measure of the ale onto the floor.
Though the words were meant for Yahjam alone her reaction is far from private and the Ysanna straightens up in order to glance from one stubborn figure to the next.
"Whatever the truth is, the question always is, is it worth it to kill each other over? Lives lost can never be reclaimed and to carry on may very well result in more." Vhe hesitates, stepping back to give them room for it seems that she can taste the very tension in the air which thusly seems to steal her next words before she can utter them.
Her gaze slips to those around her and back to Yahjam as if to express her hopes through her look alone. But her attention follows to the other Ysanna as she assesses his own quiet actions. She clears her throat and turns aside from his taste gone afoul and tries to hide the faint smile that emerges despite the brewing air around them.
Vega's grey gaze flicks from the people that are seated and she startles a bit at the outburst. She should have expected that, but it still made her jump a bit. She withdraws from the immediate group and heads just for the corner that's by the door so that she can look around it to peer at Ewan, "Everything alright out there?" she asks him.
Ewan's cerulean eyes scan around the porch, as Chani shifts and gets comfortable. The long blade of wheatgrass is rolled to the other side of his mouth and, after a moment, he pulls free a small deck of cards and begins shuffling. "Quiet," he confirms, sidelong in his glance towards Vega. Shuffle shuffle. The sound of shifting cards was easy enough to recognize. "I was about to ask our compatriot here if she'd like to pass the time with some High-Low," he admits, dipping his chin forwards to indicate the comfortable Chani. Ewan shuffles one last time, before plucking a card mid-shuffle. "Five?" He looks nonplussed, "She has the advantage."
Once he gets his fizzypop, Yuun bows his head to the bar tender and he sees that the drinks are being sent out. Yuun moves from where he is and stands near Rune, "How're you doing?" he asks. Though when he hears the slamming of fist and the raised voices, Yuun turns to look in the direction of the noise. He lets out a calming breath, watching, his golden eyes takes in the situation, he slowly reaches up and brushes two of his dreads from his face and moving them behind his right ear.
He listens as Vhe tries to speak to them, but he closes his eyes as he feels this is going to take more time which is find but how do you stop something that has been going on for years. He looks down at his light greenish/yellow fizzy pop. He slowly raises teh drink up to his lips and sips at it, and he starts to walk closer to where things are happening, he does again take note of where people are just to see if anyone has moved into a position to do something foolish.
Nights beginning to set as Jax approaches the porch of the pub. The hood of his outter robes pulled back to reveal his bearded face. He had made a lazy loop around the place for arriving. There's a slight dip of his head to Chani and Ewan. "Even, you two. Nice evening for a stroll. It's good and humid." He steps up on the porch with a creak. The porch in a place like this always have a creak. "How goes the negotiations? My intel work didn't turn up anything conclusive either way."
Aryn is quietly studying the other pair trying to determine what it may be that they would be willing to compromise on. This hate and feud runs deep, the kind of deep that stains dirt with blood and begets more hate, discontent, and savagery. Confounded by this determination, Aryn sucks in a sharp breath of frustration and releases it, leaning forward as Vhe makes her point to the group. Aryn doesn't comment yet, she's organizing her thoughts on how to proceed.
The thunk of hands hitting the tabletop and the outburst of words that follow inside carries to the exterior of the pub, prompting a twist in Chani's waist and a drop of her left hand to the floor for support into a gentle lean. The spoken dialogue is muffled rather than clear and Chani abandons trying to hear it to turn forward again. The porch protests even these subtle movements and Chani exhales through her nose after. Her dark gaze remains trained on the road stretching in either direction. She supresses the urge to kick her booted feet forward and back, partially because the thunk of her heels hitting the siding will be loud. Things are tense enough as is. Sudden, unexpected clattering from outside is not an ingredient she wants to add to the recipe. Coughing erupts, but it's pointless to look. She can't see through walls.
Her gaze is trained outwards, instead, eyes slightly narrowed in the event the breeze tries to whisk dust into them. Voices she can discern near her play in the back of her mind, but Chani doesn't have her head in the clouds and she doesn't miss that Ewan is speaking to her. "What's high low? I've never played card games before." She doesn't look at Ewan when she asks it. She doesn't even look at Jax as he approaches. She nods, of course, but her gaze is trained past him. "We may have trouble. There are six Calkins are coming up from that alley towards the bar." Her chin turns towards her right shoulder. "And four Jarrul are coming from that direction. I think they're interested in how the negotiations are going, too." A measure of doubt in her tone suggests that's not what she thinks at all.
"OH! Oh very well and good to say with your high seats and laser swords to make people quiet! Oh it's all well and good, when you may have eaten the nerf my Zeb was murdered for!" Yahjam's hands ball before her and a huffing comes from Zal who waves a hand dismissively and rolls his eyes, causing the Calkin woman to grab her mug and haul it overhand to send ale flying and the heavy glass tumbling end over end - an action that sends Zalmub diving from his chair to avoid contact.
Outside, those spotted by Miss Tahn don't seem aware that they've been made, no sign of weapons being pulled yet - and it even more likely seems they're unaware of the other by happenchance than design. At least until one speaks up, from the Calkins,
"Ey you Jeddi! How long yew lot 'tended to make us wait on this! We hain' got time for your high talk and poise" ooo a big word from the woman, raising jeers from the Jarrul and thus a return of shouts and unpleasant things that might make a noble of any gender blush.
An eyebrow is lifted at Vhe once Rune recovers from his coughing fit, a faint musing at how she interjected her voice into his mind... clearly he has a lot more to learn about the Force. The young Ossus native wipes his lips with the back of his wrist, pulling splattered ale from his mouth and cheeks. A nod or two find Yuun, the mug lifted to be examined before he answers. "I am well, not certain I will come to enjoy this drink." His regard slips out to the room to seek out those that are enjoying the foul concoction in the mugs. "Even though some seem to enjoy it..." he adds, lifting the liquid to his nose to sniff again in case he missed the odor that would have warned him about the taste. Clearly he's not alone in his assessment of the beverage seeing Yahjam lob her drink at Zal.
Yuun was making his way towards the table where Vhe are and as he walks he sees a mug being tossed and quickly his hand shoots out in front of him, a sigh escapes him as he exerts himself through the force. He catches the mug with the force stopping it in the air. He lowers the mug to the table, "Please, stop this. This isn't going to help anything but start another fight." he says as he looks to the woman who threw the mug. He doesn't have wise words to speak, but he does look for an empty chair, "Please can we just talk and see how to handle this if it's possible?" he asks in a calm voice.
Things are escalating and Vhe's attention quickly snaps back to the native group as mugs are lifting, ready to fly. She is about to reach out and stop them when the mug is paused midair and not by her hand. She rolls with it though.
"So killing each other is looked at as useful and a means to an end. How many more die?" But she's lost her footing here and she feels it, glancing to the others and then Aryn as she seems to be stepping back. Her focus is gonein that moment, unable to figure what to say.
She does however quickly turn to study each and every one that is gathered to be certain no one is about to do something stupid.
"Complicated?" Was the sort of optimistic response Ewan offered Jax, before he tucks the five he drew into one of the wraps around his left arm. The cards are shuffled again. "High-Low is the easiest card game there is," Ewan says, before he pauses the shuffle long enough to pull and display the card topmost on the deck. "Why, I know planets where sabaac is taught before children learn to speak," he says. There was a small shift in his demeanor, likely noticed by their compatriots, though outwardly he continued. "Since I've got a five, you need a six or better. Easy, right?" He says, before lifting the card for others to see. Six of Flasks. "That makes you a winner," Ewan comments proudly.
The card and the one tucked into his wrap are returned to the deck and another shuffle is done, as Ewan begins to step forward, towards the edge of the porch. The line in the sand. "Actually," he says, as his voice lifts some so that others can hear him. "I've been to Dantooine a few times. Mostly over at Dantoo Town--They make this drink called the exhaust drip. Usually has me out of sorts in half a glass. Never drink with someone in Dantoo Town, they told me," he says, snapping his fingers and pointing at the lady, "Make you wait? Goodness, place like this? We've got plenty of things I'd love to see. I hear there's a Dantooine variant of sabacc that involves drinking and riding the backs of some sort of herd animal when you lose. I'm not certain I couldn't manage--Little too clumsy for that. I fell off a bantha once. You know children ride them, yea? A bantha. I hope I don't lose that game," he says, quietly moving towards one of the groups. He points towards Jax. "Last time we played, I ended up owing him a thousand credits. Guy cleaned me out. Can you believe it?" He asks, grinning widely towards Jax.
"Aye, I clean you out of I owe yous." Jax says with a chuckle as he turns to look at the crowd. "Corellia they play a variant where you got to speed all over town on a speeder bike. Picking up cards sealed up at random. You don't know what you got till you get to your destination. You're time also adds to your hand's score." He muses, "Any one do any trading with the Artois-Javions? I grew up coming to Dantooine to spend a couple weeks a summer shoveling nerf dung and helping Old man Artois with his chores. I'm Jax Greystorm. This is Ewan and Chani. You guys know what he's talking about? There a variant of Sabbacc like that?"
"Time is a flawless victor, undefeated and relentless. We see numbers on our devices reflecting the time that ticks, the seconds of our lives we witness go by, never to return again. Our time here is limited, and when it is done, we are gone. All that remain in this world is the legacy and example we set. That we pass on to our progeny and that they pass on to theirs. The story told here is one of anguish and pain, two sides who wish to see justices for wrongs done them in the past with no thought to what tomorrow brings; only on what today lacked because of something that happened yesterday, or the day before, or years prior.." Aryn slams her fist down on the table for punctuation and stands up when aggression is witnessed.
"It must STOP! This cycle, this aggression. The pain and misery you convey cannot be solved with more blood. Pain begets more pain, violence more violence, and eventually your legacy is less about the accomplishments you worked hard for every single day-- it is about the blood you spilled. The dead are gone, passed on and their troubles no more. Today is gone, wasted on lamenting the past instead of sowing the fields of the future. Tomorrow is not yet come, but you two have a choice. You can wallow here, spitting and slinging curses about the evils done in the past, or you can forge a new path and set an example that does not doom your progeny to walk the same bloody path. I am not asking you to forget, I am asking you to be better. For your childrens' sake, and their children, and the good folk around you. Both clans bring value to this parish, imagine what could be done if so much time was not spent on defiance or revenge, but innovation.. and opportunity."
Aryn softens a bit and adds, "If I have learned anything in my travels of the galaxy and interactions among people, it is that having friends is more worthwhile than having to wake up every day and realize you must face it alone, again. What say you both? What compromise can be made to make smooth the road of tomorrow?"
There are angry words that want to surface, lost when both stare at the floating mug. Jaws dropped and a trickle of sweat running down Zal's temple for the sight of it. "Consarnid... 'majestic' wizards... n'yer..." really what can be added to that, at the present moment? Floating mug, strange and fantastic powers right out of the holos.
"Back-Saddle Sabbac is one of those rules from Drunnilton, but we've played a bit of it out here in these parts." "Played it! Hell we had a game goin' till Ohddi put everything to chaos!" That being from one of the Jarrul, oddly enough.
The half dozen Calkans and the quartet from the opposing family all stop and stare at one another when a member of an opposing group assigns part of the blame to their own. Blinks and heads turning at that. A brief instance of tension blended in levity now. "Shavit... I remember thatn' I think I owe you somthin' like thirty credits."
More stares, more blinks.
"I want whats due to me, we were to have those new breeders. We haven't been able to afford none because we've had to keep the stock from inbreeding by going to ranches willing to trade stud. Weakened our herds. Ain' gonna have much left at this rate." Zal grumps, looking to Aryn and then Yahjam in turn.
"I ain' givin' up none of my herd. Weaken ours to strengthen yorn." Yahjam gruffs, folding her arms across her chest.
Aryn's speech has them calmer, at least, the words spoken reasonable and clear. Any fool could see she was correct, let's hope these two are just foolish enough. Rune holds the mug in his hands, his attention shifting from Yuun's handiwork, to Aryn, to the other faces in the room, and finally to the two hotheads at the table. He listens to their words, their troubles, the obstacles that present themselves and he finally speaks up, "Do not give anything up then, work together."
Rune motions at Yahjam, "Allow their family one of your breeders, you do not have to give it, but allow it to do the work needed in their stead. And you..." he motions toward Zal, "Give hard work in thanks for repayment. You need not give money or anything irreplaceable, what you give is trust, hard work, and a dedication to put old injuries aside and work to make a new future." His regard strays out the window, "I cannot imagine that the both of your families do not love this town and this area with all your hearts. I would say then, work together to make it even better, a place your families can be proud of and work to make better for their children, and the young ones beyond."
This is why they work as a team, why when one fails there is another who can rise up and Vhe feels she has missed the mark even if she knows the root of their problem and their inability to admit to it. Choosing instead to remain quiet when Aryn makes her point by slamming her fist, she exhales slowly and settles in to watching each and every one of them, feeling and noticing some of the tension bleed away.
Rune's words get a nod and she turns her attention back to the room at large. She rests her hands at her hips, adopting a waiting stance as the ultimate decision will reside with the natives, no matter how much the Jedi plead.
"Back-saddle sabacc," Ewan intones thoughtfully, before shaking his head. "I would break my neck," he says, "You must raise your kin with solid quadranium backs." He grins and crooks his elbow close to his body to point at the leader of his group. "Betting your bar fights here would make even the Hutts nervous," he explains quietly. His face lights up again and Ewan grins at the conversations being hand between them all. It was a part, but, already Ewan was starting to think they had very little dealings with Echani or Jedi. "You know, I think this is gonna be all over soon, and you guys are gonna have a lot of free time on your hands. If any of you wanna earn back all the "I Owe You's" this guy won, I'd be willing to pay you half. I'm serious--If he calls those tickets in I'm gonna have to sell the shirt on my back. You'll have me back here begging for a stoop to sleep under," he keeps talking, even if it seemed like it was just circling around on itself. That was sort of the point.
With eyes on the floating mug, Yuun did let it hang there for a bit longer then he lowered it down. He lifts his mug of fizzy pop to his lips and drinks a bit deeply from it. He lowers his mug and smiles as he savors the drink. He looks in thought at Zal then over to the other. His gaze moves from them and around them to see if anyone else is wanting to start something this time.
He looks over to Rune as he speaks, he gives a small nod of his head and he turns his head to look at those he share a table with as the others also speak up. Yuun seems to be content with his drink and seeing as no one is starting a fight.
Vega gives a look about and there's a move to step back from the door and back into the corner so that she can see what is going on at the tables. She doesn't want to intervene given others are talking, so the diminuitive Echani stays put to offer quiet support to her fellow Jedi.
"Ewan they ain't going to let you begg and sleep under the stoop, they'll put you to work. There's stables to muck out, fence to be repaired, and winter grass to be cut and dried. Folks around thes part work for a living. They work hard and play harder with their free time." Jax says these things with a sound of respect. "They ain't going to want none of your shannigans. You better offer 'em three-fourths."
"Be that pride that condones such action, or science speaking?" Aryn asks finally feeling like they have arrived at a point of compromise. "Perhaps there is something you would be willing to barter in trade for breeding rights? Something mutual, where you both profit, and the parish profits because of this cooperation." Aryn could just as easily fund the breeders to come and provide a proper stock, but wealth should not be the source of every problem. It does not dissolve their blood feud, and only gives them reason to take up arms again. Qutha's involvement in the soil experiments here proved that, and it was a notion Aryn was banking away from in favor of a native solution. She eased back down to her seat and finally considered the wine brought to her.
The web of words woven by Ewan and Jax together triggers long-buried memories in the Calkins and Jarruls. Chani watches them rise to the surface after being submerged for too long as mild expressions of awe. Her gaze traces the definitive notes of those expressions while her thumbs trace the cracked grooves in the wooden beams she's sitting on. They're old and splintering, much like the problems between the two, and Chani is careful not to drag her skin too quick along the coarse protrusions lest they pierce through and leave remnant slivers. The tale being spun by Ewan ventures into stomach-clenching territory when he mentions bar fights, but Chani forces herself to relax. This on-the-spot yarn moves too quick to allow someone to dwell on any one thing, she thinks. It's an interesting talent, and Jax plays off of it well. It's nice to hear laughter instead of blasters discharging and lightsabers thrumming. It's nice to hear people talk instead of scream as they die. It might be out of the way and rural, but Chani thinks she likes Dantooine.
"Reckon we could get to that once we know Zal and Yahyah t'ain' gonna order none'vus to start tryin' to thump the others." one of the Calkins pipe up, looking to Ewan and Jax before the groups turn towards one another. Then all eyeing Jax and Ewan jawing in a fashion not unlike how they would. Laughing, one even slapping the other on the shoulder while they chortle and make jokes about how the city boys couldn't muck a stable worth a decicred.
Looking to Rune and what he says causes a, smaller, huff, "Workin' lik'n to us doin' some of their chorin' while they're lending breedstock what is - " Zal halts when Aryn speaks. Zal and Yahjam look at one another. Both with a nervous and fixed 'neutrality' to their expressions. "We'll want someone here, maybe two... keep things above board on -both- sides." Yahjam pipes in, acknowledging the mutual distrust.
"Share in breed stock, both sides. Share vet care..." Zal adds in.
"S'long as we have people keeping eachother honest." both of the ranchers giving a grin mixed with scorn and humor at the same time. The seed of a compromise.
"Whatever is gained will be earned, chorin' or otherwise." Rune responds, setting the offending drink behind him on the bar before he turns back to clasp his hands together. At least Aryn's and everyone's words have them on the right path, moderated or no, it's better for the families, the area, and the future that they all work together and get along. They don't have to like it at first, building habits are not easy. But once the habit gets established it becomes the norm, and what becomes the norm becomes life.
With the promise of compromise on the air Vhe gives Rune a nod of approval. A smile curls her lips and she watches the others handle this. It seems her words just don't want to dance well with one another and she is left stepping back as she means to relieve some of the watchful eyes by stepping towards the door and then out into the open air to let things get hammered out. She rubs at her neck along a faded if not faint scar that still presents itself upon her neck.
Another deep breath and she allows herself to let some of her own tension bleed off. Its contagious.
"They're good folk," Ewan asserts, nodding solemnly for a moment as if an important truth was stated. "Looking out for your family, sometimes, is one of the hardest things a person can do. Something tells me you'll figure it out. They're probably finishing up now," he says, hooking a thumb towards the porch. "Probably out in a second to come up with how to move forward. That means there's going to be plenty to celebrate. So I hope you guys are up for some drinking," Ewan throws out, smirking. "No exhaust drip, though--I make bad gambling decisions when I drink it," he says.
A smile shows on Yuun's lips as he sees how things are turning out, he finishes off his drink. Yuun stands up and walks towards the bar and gets a refill, happy how things are turning out and honestly he feels a bit better about himself as well, he's learned quite a bit here, something to expand on later.
"I agree." Jax says to Ewan, "And that's why the first round is on me.... well on you. Since you owe me." Jax clicks his tongue at Ewan and winks. Then reaches out clasp the Echani by the forearm slipping him the credits for the round.
"I will speak with the parish Marshal, and see that someone is here to keep the peace, and make certain all concerns are mediated and done fairly. This is a step in the right direction, truly. I pray that it flourishes, and both your families prosper." Aryn finally tests a sip of the wine and pulls the glass back to look, as if the glass itself would have a label. She's surprised the taste is commendable, but she wonders if it's because /she/ needs a drink!
A patterned beep sounds muffled beneath the fall of her robe against her waist. Chani lifts her right hand and flicks her wrist to settle the sleeve back along her forearm so that her fingers are free to attend to it. Withdrawing a datapad from a pouch along her leather belt, its pale glow casts a hint of light across her face and the feyd-cloth draped around her shoulders. She thumbs against something on the screen, then returns it to its position. "You should play cards and see who wins," Chani addresses Ewan and Jax before providing some semblance of meaning for the noise. "I have a call I need to take." Dropping her hand back down to near her thigh, both her arms apply pressure in even measure to lift her high enough to slip off her seat.
Little stamps of dust coalesce up around the soles of her leather boots and Chani wraps the feyd-cloth closer around her while heading for somewhere a little more silent and secluded to answer the call. In the distance, grey thunderheads rise to great heights and carry with them the promise of rain. Rather than see it as an ominous portent, Chani chooses to believe it is a good one. After all, rain is one of the crucial parts of life on an agricultural world. Her nostrils flare with the promise of precipitation on the wind and she prays to Shiraya that all will be well.