Saga - OT A Different Side of You | OTP Rom-Com in Space| Wren/Kaz

Title: A Different Side of You
Author: Raissa Baiard
Genre: Romance, humor, AU
Characters: Wren Ordo (OC), Kazuda “Kaz” Xiono, Bellona Ordo (OC), various other OCs
Timeframe: Circa 28 ABY, in the Marzra-verse continuity
Synopsis: Wren spends a vacation with Kaz on his homeworld of Hosnian Prime, and must deal with navigating Hosnian society, meeting his friends, and attending a formal party in (gasp) a fancy dress!

Notes: Written for the OTP Return of Rom-com in Space challenge. My prompts were “awkward meeting” and “childhood friends”.

Thank you to @Findswoman for beta-reading
——-

Part One

The comm unit on Wren’s desk chimed and began playing the opening notes of “I’m a Perceiver” by The Monongs, a perky, pre-fabbed sparkle-bop band of non-threatening guys. While that sort of thing wasn’t her usual style, Kaz liked them. And she had to admit that their music was cheerful, upbeat, and almost impossible to get out of your mind—much like Kaz himself, which made the song perfect for his personal comm-tone. Maybe that was silly, and maybe her so-sophisticated older sister was beyond such things, but the idea that she had a boyfriend to assign a personal comm-tone to still made Wren ridiculously happy some days. She stretched across her bed and flipped the unit on.

“Hey, ad’ika!”

“Wren!”

The image of Kaz dressed in his blue cadet’s uniform shimmered to life. Behind him, Wren could make out the vague shapes of the other comm-booths at the New Republic Flight Academy’s comm-center, where the cadets could go to comm their families and friends for a limited time each week. Kaz smiled and leaned towards his comm-unit as if by doing so he could get closer to her. “So, hey, I have some great news—I’m going to be off for fete week pretty soon and Mother finally convinced Father to let me invite you to stay with us—if you want to and if your parents say it’s okay. Mother’s supposed to be messaging your mom to let her know everything’ll be proper and chaperoned and all that.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Like we need chaperoning.” “Chaperone” was such an aruetii concept. Any Mando girl old enough to wear beskar’gam was capable of fending off unwanted advances in a number of highly effective ways—not that she thought that Kaz would put that kind of move on her. “I mean, we lived in the same apartment on Korriban for months and nothing happened!” Well, okay Ro and Noemi and Humoo had been there too, but still… She and Kaz had never sneaked off to the laundering unit or anything like that, though she knew for a fact that Ro and Noemi had been snogging down there at least once.

“I know, right?” Kaz replied. “Anyway, I hope your parents will say it’s okay. We’ll be staying in the villa in the Crystal Dunes, so we can go sand surfing and swimming and sailing! And Equinox Day falls during fete week this year, so there’ll be the big sunsail race and bonfires. The parties are going to be huge!” His face lit up with anticipation as he ticked off the list of activities, each one more enthusiastically than the last. And Wren thought at first that the flicker in his joyous smile was some technical glitch in the transceiver until he said hesitantly, “There’s just one thing that might be a tiny problem…. The Mondavi family always has this big party for the Equinox, and my family always goes, but it’s kind of, well, formal….”

“Okay…” She didn’t see the problem with that. True, they didn’t have the kind of super-fancy type parties here on Ordo that were probably ten a deci-cred on Coruscant or Hosnian Prime, and true, noble titles didn’t mean quite the same thing to Mandalorians as they did to other cultures in the Republic, but Wren had been to the Clan meets and she was the daughter of the Marquis and Marchioness Ordo, and a descendent of Mand’alor the Preserver. She knew how to represent her clan with dignity and honor. She could get through some frou-frou evening of cocktails and light refreshments without embarrassing herself.

Kaz shifted a little in his seat, fidgeting with his collar as if it was suddenly too tight. “So the girls usually wear...fancy dresses…”

“Oh.” That was…different. Did Mandos even wear dresses? Maybe a nice kama for special occasions—wedding feasts or clan meets or things like that—but a dress? No. How were you even supposed to move in all that fabric anyway? It was just impractical.

Her dismay at the idea must have shown, because Kaz hastened to assure her, “We don’t have to go. I… I bet I can convince Mother to let us stay home with GeeVee that night. No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. Wren wasn’t a Jedi like most of her Spectre cousins, so she couldn’t sense the emotions of someone two systems away (or even sitting next to her, but whatever), but she knew Kaz well enough to notice the little slump to his shoulders, the stammer and the tiny pause that wasn’t quite a sigh. This party was important to him—tradition, maybe or perhaps this Mondavi family was allied with his. Maybe this was even the Hosnian high society equivalent of a clan meet. But whatever the reason, it obviously meant a lot to him. And if it did…

Wren loved Kaz, absolutely. She knew some people just didn’t get it, because in some ways he was about as far from Mandalorian as you could possibly get. His marksmanship skills were adequate at best, and he had a habit of tripping over nothing at all. But that didn’t matter, because he was sweet and brave and honorable, and that counted for more than firearms accuracy or athletic prowess. He loved her, too, and that was the most amazing thing of all. Kaz was the first person who’d ever looked at her and seen something special, and he went out of his way to let her know how he felt. He’d practiced his marksmanship incessantly to get from “can barely hit the target” to “adequate at best” for her. He’d learned bits and pieces of Mando’a for her.

So, if this party and wearing the requisite fancy dress were important to Kaz, how could she do any less for him? It was one night, maybe a couple of hours. It wouldn’t kill her. Probably. Wren waved a hand in what she hoped was a convincingly dismissive manner. “No. No that’s fine; a dress is no big deal.”

She was rewarded with one of his biggest, brightest smiles. “Awesome! Aw, this is going to be epic, Wren! I can’t wait to show you...everything!” He launched into a vivid description of the Crystal Dunes, their beauty and all the recreational activities available there. Wren got caught up in his enthusiasm, and it was only after their allotted comm time had run out and he’d signed off with “Good night, Senaar’ika” that it hit her what she’d agreed to.

A dress.

A fancy dress.

How did one even go about obtaining such a thing? Wren had no idea, but she knew who would.

Bellona was in her studio, of course. She was in Full Art Mode—hunched over a sheaf of designs, hair pulled back in a messy equine-tail, a smudge of charcoal on her nose—and Wren very nearly turned around because interrupting Bellona when she was in Art Mode was as unpredictable as poking a sleeping anooba. You might get a yawn, you might get snapped at, but you wouldn’t know which until it was too late. This was important, though. For Kaz. She took a deep breath.

“I need your help.”

Bellona turned around. Her perfectly arched eyebrows were raised; there was a sparkle in her eyes and a wicked grin on her lips. “Say that again?”

So that was how this was going to go. For Kaz, Wren reminded herself. She was doing this for him. “I. Need. Your help.” She ground the words out even though it pained her soul to have to grovel to her sister that way.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Bellona’s grin widened. She swept her stack of flimsi to the side and leaned forward on her drafting desk, brushing a strand of electric blue hair out of her face. “Okay, vod’ika. What can I do for you?”

Wren gave her a quick summary of Kaz’s call, his invitation and the fancy party for which a dress was unfortunately necessary. “…and I figured since you have this whole fashion thing figured out, maybe you could help me come up with something that won’t be too horrible.”

“Are you kidding? You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to put you in something pretty for a change!” Bellona’s smile was at Loth-cat proportions now, which Wren didn’t find terribly reassuring. She wasn’t sure how much overlap there was between her definition of “not horrible” and her sister’s of “pretty”. Maybe she’d be better off doing this on her own.

But Bellona wasn’t about to give her a chance to back out; she relocated a box of colored pencils and a dog-eared sketchbook from a nearby stool to a shelf. “Sit,” she commanded Wren, and snagged her datapad from the other side of the table. Her fingers skipped over the touchscreen and the logo for Lorrd and Tey’lur’s, an upscale department store that Wren recognized from the times they’d visited Coruscant for Mom’s exhibitions, flashed up. “So, what are we thinking of?” Bellona asked as she summoned up a row of models dressed in various styles and colors of gowns. “Long? Short? Sleeves? Straps? Strapless?”

Wren stared at the improbably tall, impossibly thin figures as they posed and turned on the screen, showing off every angle of their dresses. Showing off every angle of themselves. She squirmed, making the stool wobble perilously on its uneven legs. “I don’t know. I mean—” Wren poked a finger at a Zabrak wearing a low-cut gown with a voluminous purple skirt. “—How do you even walk in that? Wouldn’t your legs just get tangled up in all that fabric? And you’d be cold in that one!” She jabbed at Twi’lek whose magenta dress didn’t even reach her knees. “Everyone would be looking at your legs! Oh…” Wren was hit with the sudden realization that if—when—she wore a dress to the party, people would be looking at her legs. Maybe even Kaz. Maybe especially Kaz. “Oh, Mand’alor…”

Her sister laughed—laughed!—as a hot flush warmed Wren’s cheeks and crept up the back of her neck. “You don’t think Kaz hasn’t already noticed your legs? The pants you wear aren’t exactly baggy coveralls.” She patted Wren’s knee. “You have good legs, you know. You might as well show them off.”

Wren jerked her leg back. “Let’s just focus on the matter at hand,” she said with a determination that Uncle Kanan would have been proud of. For Kaz, she told herself again. She was doing this for him, so let Bellona snigger if she wanted to, because in the end it would make him happy.

There followed one of the most excruciating hours Wren had ever spent that did not involve dental procedures. Bellona called up an endless parade of designer dresses in every color of the rainbow and some that weren’t. Sparkly dresses. Ruffly dresses. Shimmery, shiny, sequin-y dresses. High-necked, low cut, strapless, backless—some that almost seemed frontless! Dresses with gigantic puffy sleeves, dresses with tiny, useless sleeves barely worth the name. High-low hems. Princess necklines. Empire waists. And every. Possible. Permutation thereof, until Wren wondered if this was one of the nine hells that Corellians claimed or if she’d wandered into some fresh level of torment. “This is hopeless!” she cried at last, dropping her head to the table. “None of these are me!”

Bellona blew out a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose like she was getting a headache. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she had the same expression that Ronen wore when he was doing one of his Jedi calming exercises—emotion, yet peace; Wren, yet serenity. Bellona opened one eye and regarded Wren speculatively. “Well, there is one way for you to have a dress that’s really you… I’ll design it for you.”

“What?!” Okay, Bellona was an artist and she designed jewelry and all that, but a dress? For Kaz’s fancy party? She didn’t know if she wanted to give her sister that much power over her fate. “Have you ever even done something like this before?”

Bellona tsk-ed and waved away Wren’s objection. “No, but it won’t be that hard. Mom designed Aunt Hera’s wedding gown. I’m sure she’ll be able to give me a few pointers.”

That, Wren thought, put a new spin on things. She’d seen the old holos of Aunt Hera’s wedding; her gown was, as those types of things went, not terrible. It was simple and elegant and it looked like it belonged on her, not just the way it fit, but the style, the colors, the design were all Aunt Hera. Wren trusted Mom not to let Bellona put her in something that made her look like an absolute besom. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine.”

“Great!” Bellona grinned triumphantly and ruffled Wren’s choppy hair until it stood out in a dozen random directions. “I’m going to make you beautiful, vod’ika!
————

Notes:

Mando’a terms
Ad’ika: literally, “small child”, but in this context, more like “hey, baby”
Aruetii: outsider, non-Mando
Vod’ika: little sibling, little sis
Besom: person with poor manners and/or hygiene. Oaf, doofus.

Lorrd and Tey’lur’s: fanon department store, originally appeared in “Something Unexpected”
Equinox Day: a major holiday on Hosnian Prime.
Aunt Hera’s wedding dress: See “And They Lived Happily Ever After” for the story.

 

What a truly pleasant surprise!! And fun to boot! Kaz is so enthusiastic and Wren is too until uh-oh. I have to wear a fru-fru dress? The scene with her sister was great. Bellona is happy to finally be fancying Wren up and Wren is like, "None of these are me!"

Eager to see what the custom gown comes out to be

 

Like, same.

 

I love it! Wren's experience here reminds me a lot of teenage me, navigating the world of fancy dresses for the first time. And while I'm a lot more comfortable dress shopping now, and even wish I had more occasions to wear a truly all-out "fancy" dress, I can still relate to being overwhelmed by the abundance of styles and materials and... all of it. (And then tack on "trying to shop while small children pull clothes off the hangers or attempt to escape the dressing room when you're not looking" )

This sounds amazing, honestly. I want to go to this place.

They're very sweet together. Kaz really does try, and I thought he did great learning Mando'a! And absolutely, it's a person's character that matters most; Wren has a good head on her shoulders to recognize that.

Great exchange! I love seeing sisterly dynamics in action. As frustrating as it is for Wren to admit she needs her sister's help, I do enjoy that it gives us that snarky teasing from Bellona, and that ultimately, she is perfectly willing and eager to help.

Wren's dawning horror as she realizes just what wearing a fancy dress entails is perfect.

Aw, Bellona is so excited! Looking forward to seeing how this fancy dress turns out and what happens at the party... not to mention Kaz's reaction!

Really well done!

 

And that's the crux of the matter ...

... along with this. Nice beginning!

 

A wonderful "coming of age" story with Mando culture! Good to see you also excel here as you did with your Ezra stories.

 

Great story, certianly not something a mando would do on a regular basis. Definitely showsher comittment to the relationship that she is willing to wear that for her friend, and even have bellona be the one to design it.

 

So even though I'm unfamiliar with these characters this cute and sweet bit does well to setup the central conflict of Wren's willingness to extend past her comfort zone in principle while in practice trying to minimize how far.

 

Oh, this put such a big smile on my face!

Awww! The cuteness!

The festivities sound wonderful, and I love how Kaz brings up the subject of the fancy dresses.

This is so sweet! The love they have for each other is just beautiful to read, and I love her thoughts here, about how he tries for her so she's going to try for him.

But I confess, my absolute favorite part is when she goes to her sister for help. Because fancy dresses? Makeovers? Sibling bonding (and sibling gloating over other sibling coming to them for said help)? Oh, yes. And I can't wait to see the dress they come up with!

Wonderful start to this!

 

So DRL just hit me with another major load of bantha poodoo I apologize for not doing full responses but I wanted to let you all know how much your comments have meant to me, especially with things the way they are in RL. It makes me really happy to know that you all are enjoying Wraz; I very nearly gave up on them after the first couple stories didn't get much attention. I'm glad that I stuck with them, though. Thank you all so much for your marvelous, encouraging words

Thanks, as always, to @Findswoman for beta reading
_______

Part Two

Over the next week, Wren came to deeply regret her decision to let Bellona design a dress for her.

Because it turned out that Bellona didn’t just go off into her studio, work her artistic magic and come back with a fabulous dress. No, there were concept sketches first, and fabric swatches. Then came measurements, which required Wren to stand there in nothing but her camisole and shorts while Bellona flitted around with her tape measure, getting down to the millimeter measurements in some fairly personal areas. Wren felt vulnerable without her beskar’gam, which Bellona had firmly refused to let her keep. (“You won’t be wearing your chest plate with this dress. Take it off.”)

And after all the sundry indignities of measurements came fitting. And more fittings. And still more fittings while Mom and Bellona draped her in fabric and pinned and nipped and tucked and hmm-ed over her like she was the base for a sculpture they were creating out of red shimmersilk and gold crystal beads.

When at last the dress was finished, Wren stood in front of Bellona’s full-length mirror and stared at the girl reflected in it, while her mother and Bellona beamed in pride at their handiwork. The dress was a triumph, Wren had to admit—red shimmersilk with short cap sleeves and a scooped neckline that bared her collar bones but stopped short of being revealing. The bodice was fitted and clingy, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable; the dropped waist led to a knee-length skirt that swirled without being ridiculously fluffy. Mom and Bellona had embroidered gold beads onto the dress in a pattern that might have been flames or flowers or flying birds. It was simple, elegant and everything anyone could want in a dress.

Unfortunately, Wren was the one wearing it, so they might as well have dressed a wild monong in it. The monong would have looked more poised and sophisticated. Wren ran a hand through her choppy hair, suddenly hating its usual style-less style. Did she always look like this much of a karking besom? She shifted self-consciously in the dainty little flats Bellona had picked out to go with the dress; knee-high boots weren’t formal enough, apparently (Wren had drawn the line at the strappy heels her sister had originally suggested). There was way too much of her showing—bare arms, bare neck, bare legs. “I feel naked…” she whispered.

Mom and Bellona exchanged glances. “We thought you might say something like that,” Bellona said. “Maybe this will help.” She grabbed a small container off of her dresser, the kind of hinged box that usually held jewelry. Before Wren could protest that decking her out in some sparkly doo-dads was definitely not going to make her feel any better, Bellona opened the box to reveal a short chain with a charm made of a dull, silver metal. Her mother fastened the chain around Wren’s neck, and she could see that the charm, which lay just below the hollow of her throat, was shaped like a flying bird.

“It’s my sigil,” she said, reaching up to touch it. The metal seemed almost warm to the touch, with a familiar solidity that was almost like… “It’s beskar!”

“This way you won’t have to be completely without steel.” Bellona smiled and punched Wren on a silk-covered shoulder.

“You made this, didn’t you ?” Wren caressed the beskar sigil-charm wonderingly. “When did you even have time to make this with all the sketching and fitting and sewing you’ve been doing?”

“Oh, well—Mom did a lot of the actual sewing and most of the beading. And I’ve actually had this for a while. I was saving it for your Life Day present, but I thought you needed it now.”

The lump in Wren’s throat must have been a sudden attack of allergies, because Mandos didn’t get choked up over dresses and jewelry. Maybe, just maybe she could do this fancy dress thing after all. She hugged her sister fiercely. “Thanks, Bellona.” Her voice was a little wavery, and that, too, was obviously sudden seasonal allergies. “This—all of this—is kandosii’la. You’re pretty kandosii’la, too.”

Bellona hugged her back, adding a noogie for good measure. “What are sisters for?”

***
The Xionos’ gleaming golden Opu-Yacht arrived at the Candera Spaceport two days later. Kaz greeted Wren with an enthusiastic embrace while their parents exchanged pleasantries. “Hey, Wren! Are you ready?”

Wren thought about the red shimmersilk dress carefully packed in its garment bag and the beskar necklace nestled in the velvoid lining of its hinged wooden box. “Yes,” she answered. “I’m ready.” As I’ll ever be.
___

Notes:
Kandosii'la: a Mando'a adjective that can have varied meanings--classy, indomitable, awesome, etc.--but is overwhelmingly positive.

 

How absolutely stunning! The necklace/pendant is perfect. Now Wren doesn't feel under-dressed and it still accents the dress in a most elegant fashion.

 

Great idea with the necklace keeping a bit of her usual apperance in a way. The dress itself certianly sounds pretty as well.

 

I'm sorry to hear about DRL but this is so sweet and I'm happy you were able to share! I loved every word here.

Poor Wren with all those measurements and fittings. But it seems it was definitely worth it, because the dress sounds gorgeous.

And then the necklace! Such a perfect touch.

Awww! The sisterly bonding made me so happy.

Wonderful update, and I look forward to more when and if you are able.

 

This is great. Now we need Kaz's reaction to the dress.

 

Thank you! Bellona has been wanting to give Wren's style a little more oomph, and the beskar necklace is her adding some sparkle while still keeping with her sister's aesthetic. It's simple and meaningful-- a way for Wren to keep a reminder of her Mando heritage even in the fanciest of parties.

Thank you DRL continues to ebb and flow, though I have fortunately had a bit more quiet time to write lately. The Force willing that it will stay that way long enough for me to finish this story! *fingers crossed*

My mother is a seamstress and she has made many dresses for me over the years, so I really sympathized with her here. The result was always worth it, but the fittings... I hope that in the GFFA they have moved beyond the straight pin as a way to fasten material together. *shudder*

Despite all their differences, Bellona really does care for her little sis, and that's why she took the time to make both the dress and the necklace something that would truly complement Wren's unique style, something that will help her feel confident in the unfamiliar circumstance of the fancy dress party. And Wren sees and appreciates that; she, too, really cares for her sister, even if she does sometimes feel a little overshadowed by her. They are true vode in both senses of the word.

Thank you! I have a feeling Kaz is going to like it....

Thank you for your encouragement and support while I've been working on it I'm glad you enjoyed it; as I mentioned I've been in Wren's situation and felt quite restless during the process. I can imagine that after a fitting, Wren was ready to kick around a limmie ball and/or spend some time on target practice! I think you're right about her "season" she's got Sabine's complexion (and her natural hair color ) and I picture her as favoring earth tones/golds. I think the red dress, while brighter than she normally wears, will make her a standout at the party. Even though Wren chafed under the indignities of measurements and fittings, in the end, she appreciates all the effort Bellona (and Sabine) have put into the dress--and the necklace. As you point out, she doesn't so much makeover Wren as work with her style--the mark of both a good stylist and a caring sister!

The blushing face emoji seems to be permanently broken, so imagine a string of blushing faces here.... Thank you so much You have no idea how much your words mean to me or how much they made my day (and I can neither confirm nor deny that I re-read them as a pick-me up when DRL is being a pain in the shebs) It makes me all sorts of happy that you are enjoying Wraz. Again, thank you, so, so much!

I have "Sabine's Rebel Sketchbook", a YA book written as if it was Sabin's sketchbook/diary, and in it she talks about falling asleep in her armor sometimes because it's that much a part of her. I can well imagine Wren doing the same (possibly in her treehouse). Wren takes her commitment to resol'nare so very seriously--and while that's no bad thing, as you say, her beskar'gam is only the outer symbol of the Mando she is inside. Sabine and Bellona have just had a little more time to realize that.

With Bellona and Sabine involved, it couldn't be otherwise! And though Wren would probably object to being classified as a muse, she really is the inspiration. The gleaming red and gold dress captures not just her style, but her spirit.

Is there anything more painful when you're a teen than the thought that people will be looking at you and judging you? Especially since Wren feels practically naked without her beskar'gam

How ever much Wren may feel overshadowed by Bellona and however much Bellona may get annoyed by her little sister's drama, in the end they love each other. Bellona wants the best for Wren--she wants her to be able to go to the party feeling pretty and confident, and she's willing to put her talents into play to make that happen.

More than she knows!

Thank you

 

Thank you to @Findswoman for beta-reading, encouragement and support
------

Part Three

The Xionos had a vacation house.

Wren had known in an academic sort of way that such things existed, and that some ultra-wealthy Core-worlders had them, but somehow it had never occurred to her that Kaz’s family was rich enough to have a second house just sitting around empty until they felt like going on vacation.

Kaz called it “the villa”, which made it sound like some quaint and cozy little cottage, when in reality it had four bedrooms, three ‘freshers, two balconies, a solarium with huge picture windows that overlooked the dunes, and a wrap-around deck with—of all things—an outdoor fireplace. Wren’s room was decorated in pale shades of blue and green, accented with gleaming chrome. The carpet was thick, plush and absurdly white, and there were small crystal tooka figurines sitting on the nightstand and dresser. It all made Wren feel particularly besomistic; she just knew she was going to smudge the shiny furniture, track dirt all over the rug and probably break one of the delicate, frolicking tookas before the week was out.

Fortunately, once she’d finished unpacking (and stowed a certain garment bag in the far corner of her closet, out of sight and out of mind), Kaz suggested that they head out to the Diamond Sands Recreation Area, where he said the best sand surfing and dune racing could be found. Wren readily agreed. Outdoor sports were always good—though she probably would have agreed to anything that got her out of the house and away from the tookas that seemed to be watching her with their beady crystalline eyes, just waiting for her to make a careless move.

They loaded up Kaz’s speeder bike, a sleek emerald green D’kaati, with their gear and headed out. It was several klicks’ drive away from the villa, and Kaz took a leisurely, sight-seeing pace. He pointed out other families’ villas (some even bigger and more ostentatious than the Xionos’), as well as favorite tapcafs and shops as they drove through town and out towards the dunes proper where there was little else besiides rolling sands, shaggy silver-green grass and weathered boardwalks.

Sand surfing was new to Wren, beaches being in rather short supply in landlocked Candera. Sliding down dunes while standing on a meter-long, oval-shaped piece of fiberglass seemed a bit odd as far as sports went, but it turned out to be pretty fun once she figured out the knack of shifting her weight and leaning to one side or the other to avoid getting tangled in the dune grass as she slid down the sandy slopes. She took a few spills in the process, but nothing like Kaz, who wiped out more often than he made a successful run.

Little did she realize that the real challenge was yet to come…

On their way back to the villa, Kaz’s stomach began to rumble noisily. “You hungry?” he called back over his shoulder to Wren, riding double behind him.

“I guess I could use a bite.” She was a little peckish, now that he mentioned it. Sun and exercise had a way of working up one’s appetite.

“Cool! Ooh, hey, they have the best zoochberry mufkins here!” Kaz said, pulling over next to a small tapcaf. Its sign read “The Pittin’s Mittens Teahouse” along with the image of an adorably plump pittin whose waving paws were indeed clad in a pair of perky pink mittens.. There were beaded curtains in the window and painted pots of miniature Ithorian roses and queen’s heart flowers lining the walk to the door. It all was all a bit...cute for Wren’s tastes, but as long as they made a decent cup of tea, she could put up with the kitschiness for a while.

Inside, the decor was just as kitschy-cute, with framed art—well, no not art but posters of the same mitten-wearing pittin sipping tea, playing with a ball, knitting more mittens… what was it with Hosnians and their fondness for frolicking felines, anyway? The corner booth Kaz snagged for them was upholstered with material printed with tiny pittin faces; the one on the holo-menu waved cheerfully at Wren as she picked it up.

Below the pittin, the menu read “Serving thoughtfully sourced organic fair-trade teas and caf, and specializing in all-natural, gluten-free pastries”. And that was the least confusing part of it. The list of teas took up an entire page. Shig and behot tea were not among them. Another entire page was devoted to caf. What was up with that? Caf was caf; add a splash of cream and a bit of sweetener if you were feeling fancy—there, done. Caf Naboo, Kamino Sea Salt Caramel macchiato, Garel chocolate mocha? Just what? And why were the beverage sizes “macro”, “ultra macro,” and “uber macro”? What did that even mean?

“What would you like?” Kaz asked as the sleek silver wait-droid in metallic pink livery rolled up to their table.

“Umm...why don’t you pick something for me?” Wren hoped that sounded like she was being flirty instead of betraying the fact that she didn’t have a clue what half these things were.

“Hmm...okay” Kaz perused his menu pensively. “We’ll have the basket of assorted mini-mufkins...an ultra macro Caf Naboo—two shots of espresso, heavy cream, double sweetener and extra foam, aaaand...an ultra macro tarine tea with steamed bantha milk and, um, no sweetener.”

The wait droid bowed, whisking away their menus, and soon returned with a basket of tiny mufkins, golden brown and studded with bits of fruit, and two large mugs. Kaz’s was topped with several centimeters of frothy whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup, while Wren’s tea was plain--though that was fine with her. She cupped the steaming mug in her hands and raised it to her lips. The aroma was nice, fruity with a tinge of mint; she took a tentative sip. It was sweet but not too sweet, the mint counterpointing the lush flavors of citron and berries. “Mmm...It’s good!”

Kaz, who had been watching her with his mug halfway to his lips, smiled with a sigh of relief. He took a sip of foam-topped caf and came away with a chocolate and whipped cream mustache. Wren had the sudden mad urge to kiss it off…

“Kazuuuuuuuda!”

The raucous call interrupted Wren’s plan. A Balosar guy wearing a battered nerf-hide jacket embellished with swoop gang patches was making his way toward their table, grinning at them like an overfed tooka and waving madly. Much to Wren’s chagrin, he slid into the booth next to Kaz without waiting for an invitation, and slung an arm over his shoulders.

“Kazuda, my man, my man!” he enthused. “Look at you! Mister Responsible Republic Cadet, back home for the fete!”

“Hey, Zapp.” Kaz shrugged his way out from under Zapp’s arm and relocated the mufkin basket just before the Balosar snagged one. “Wren, this is my friend, Zapp Zaphibrox. We went to the Hosniana Young Leaders’ together.”

Zapp gave her a theatrical salute, touching two fingers to his forehead and fluttering them down as if doffing an imaginary hat. “Lockers next to each other for ten years because our profs couldn’t see past the tyranny of slotting younglings into aurebeshical order, and thus I was always last.” He grinned again, showing off a set of perfectly even and blindingly white teeth.

“And, Zapp, this…” Kaz continued, taking Wren’s hand across the table. “This is Wren Ordo, my, um, my girlfriend.” Kaz’s tone was studiously casual—this is my girlfriend, no big deal—the grin that accompanied it definitely wasn’t—hey, I have a girlfriend! Isn’t she awesome?!—and Wren could almost forgive Zapp’s intrusion just because of that smile. Almost...

Zapp’s antennapalps sprang upright from his blonde-tipped curls. “Whoa-ho! So it’s true! Dude!” He threw his arm around Kaz’s shoulders again and pulled him into an uncomfortable-looking side-hug. “We all heard you jumped ship on your dad and ran off to the Outer Rim to go treasure hunting with some Jedi and came back with a Mando girl! Some people were like ‘no way, not Kazuda’, but I was like ‘dude, still waters and all that’.” He nodded sagely, tapping Kaz in the center of the chest.

“Heh…yeah…” Kaz said, looking slightly embarrassed. He extricated himself from Zapp’s hug as the Balosar reached for the mufkins. “That’s not exactly what happened, but…”

“So, hey, Mando girl,” Zapp said, mouth full of mufkin, “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Wren decided she didn’t forgive Zapp for interrupting her time with Kaz after all. Mando girl? Like she didn’t have a name? And asking if she’d ever killed anyone? Because all Mandos were stone-cold killers, bounty hunters and mercs, was that it? She thought Coreworlders prided themselves on being educated and sophisticated, not the kind who bought into cheap deci-cred holodrama stereotypes. Still, she wouldn’t shame her clan or embarrass Kaz by demonstrating that a Mando could turn anything into a weapon, even a teaspoon. Wren gripped her mug a little tighter and inhaled deeply. “I blew up a terentatek, does that count?”

“Heh heh heh…” Zapp laughed until he realized that she wasn’t even smiling. He darted a look at Kaz, who nodded. Zapp’s mouth dropped open so far that bits of mufkin fell out; he hastily wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Uh, right on… So… What are you up to this excellent fete week, Kazuda?”

Kaz pulled the mufkin basket back where it belonged and shrugged. “Oh, you know… a little sand surfing, a little sightseeing…all the Equinox day stuff, the races, the Mondavis’ party…”

“Aw, dude, what’s Nisha going to say when you show up to the party with a date?” Zapp grinned another tooka grin, antennae and eyebrows waggling, and elbowed Kaz, who looked extremely uncomfortable, as if the mufkin he’d just bitten into did not actually contain chocolate chips.

“Nisha won’t even notice,” Kaz mumbled, addressing his answer to his caf mug.

“Nisha?” Wren’s mufkin suddenly didn’t taste that good either. Who was Nisha and why would she care that Kaz was bringing Wren to the party? And why did Kaz look like he cared more than a little what this Nisha was going to think?

“Nisha Mondavi,” Kaz clarified, still talking to his mug. “Her family is hosting the party. She’s an old friend.”

Zapp slid the mufkins over for a third time and popped another zoochberry mufkin into his mouth. “A friend you had the hots for.”

Kaz yanked the basket back. “I did not!”

“You asked her out.”

“Once! Maybe twice…”

Zapp snorted. “Try six times.”

“She’s nice…” Kaz protested, not even noticing when Zapp appropriated the last mufkin.

“And hot.” Zapp’s antenna wriggled suggestively as he grinned another of his too-big, too-white grins (except that this time he had a large chunk of zoochberry lodged between his front teeth).

“Zapp!” Kaz said with a strangled cry. It was not, however, exactly a denial either that Nisha was hot or that he’d asked her out.

Wren clenched her hands around her mug, because otherwise she was going to throw it. She hadn’t quite decided who deserved it more: the smarmy, mufkin-mooching, moment-ruining Zapp or Kaz, for just conveniently forgetting to tell her that the fancy dress party that meant so much to him was being hosted by some hot just-a-friend he’d been interested enough in to ask out six karking times. No, satisfying as it might be, Wren wouldn’t embarrass her clan by chucking dishes like a youngling. Instead, she summoned up her best approximation of her mother's Marchioness Ordo Is Very Displeased look. “Nisha?” she asked again. “Really?”

Kaz blanched and shot Wren a desperate, pleading glance. “Look...Nisha...I… she never… I don’t…”

“Whoa, okay…looks like you two need to talk.” The glow panel finally popped on over Zapp’s head… or perhaps, having cleaned them out of mufkins, he was just off to spread his own brand of overbearing, mortifying cheer to others. “So I will see you at the par-tay.” He slid out of the booth with a last berry-laden grin and a jaunty wave. “Later, Kazuda dude, Mando girl!”

Wren was not sorry to see him go—Mando girl, just really?—but now that she couldn’t focus her righteous indignation at Zapp for bringing up this Nisha thing, she was left to wonder how much of what he said was true. Because she might be able to convince herself Zapp’s comment about Nisha being hot was just stupid males being stupidly male, but if Kaz really had asked Nisha out six times, that had to mean something, didn’t it? She crossed her arms over her chest. “How come you didn’t mention your old girlfriend was the one hosting this party?”

Kaz sighed and shook his head. “Nisha’s not… we never even went out. Her parents and mine are friends… and, yeah, I asked her out a couple times, but…that was before you and I even met…” He reached across the table to take Wren’s hands. “Nisha’s just a friend, really; I love you, Wren. Only you…”

Sometimes Wren wished she had her cousins, Ronen and Noemi’s ability to read people’s emotions—not very often, but sometimes, and this was one of those times. Because Kaz looked so earnest, so genuinely unhappy, that he couldn’t be faking it, right? He was really a terrible liar....but what if…? No... no, relationships were built on trust; Wren was sure that Noemi had said something like that once. You had to trust your vode—and your ori’vod—because that trust was what made you vode in the first place.

“I love you, too, Kaz’ika.” Wren squeezed his hands, feeling that Noemi and Ro and the rest of her cousins would be proud of her for taking such a mature, Jedi-like attitude.

Her resolve lasted for a couple hours, through dinner and several games of galactic tiles with Kaz and Suzume—right up until Wren went to bed. As she lay there, it hit her that she was going to have to meet Nisha at the party. Which meant Kaz would be able to compare the two of them side-by-side, and Nisha would be hot and sophisticated and all the things that society Coreworld girls were supposed to be, while Wren would be… Wren. Only she wouldn’t even have her beskar’gam or her WESTARs or anything. She’d just be Wren, pretending to be something she wasn’t, in a dress that belonged on someone like Nisha and not some besom from the Outer Rim.

Wren spent a miserable few hours tossing and turning under the mocking grins of the crystal tookas. She finally deposited the little felines in a drawer where she couldn’t see them laughing at her, found her commlink, and called a very surprised Bellona (who was, fortunately, awake because the differences in planetary rotation meant it was midday on Ordo). She poured out the entire story to her sister, and unloading all her emotions made her feel simultaneously better to get them out and worse, because Mandos were supposed to be stronger than that.

“…and I want to believe Kaz when he says—”

“Then do,” Bellona cut in. “If this is the first you’re hearing about this Nisha, she can’t be that big a deal.”

“But—”

“Give yourself some credit, Wren. Once Kaz sees you in your dress he’s not even going to look at the other girls. Remember—beskar’gam or not, you’re still an Ordo.”

Wren almost felt okay again after she clicked off with Bellona—almost. Belllona had way more experience with guys than she did, after all, so if she thought Nisha wasn’t going to be a problem, then she probably wouldn’t be. But there was a part of Wren that wouldn’t be able to believe it until she saw with her own eyes. Bellona was right about one thing: whatever Wren was wearing, she was an Ordo. She’d walk into that party with her head high and show Nisha Mondavi and everyone else what a true daughter of Clan Ordo was like.

Wren flopped back into her bed and punched her pillow into shape. It was still going to take her a while to get to sleep.

And she still wasn’t letting those stupid crystal tookas out of the drawer to smirk at her all night
-------
Notes:

Nisha Mondavi: if the name sounds familiar, yep, she’s the same girl Kaz was pining over at the beginning of “I’m a Believer”.

 

Superb assurances from Kaz and Bellona. I totally understand Wren's misgivings but Kaz is sincere and besides he's been around girls like Nisha all his life and they were all like meh and bleh. It's Wren he's crazy about after all.