Building Upon the Rock

[Judah Lesan]

The more the Mandalorian people heard of the reconstruction of Mandalore, the more of them returned home. Things were still in ruins, but domes has been erected in several cities in order to allow the faithful to gather once more. Ceryc Haat has been one of them. His family had left some time ago, but he had always done his best to follow the resol’nare. When he heard of the the Civil War and the reconstruction efforts, he worked hard to settle his open contracts and return to Mandalore.

His first night had been interesting. A party celebrating a young woman who had walked into the Warden’s gate at 13 and returned 20. It was the talk of her which filled Sundari. Even the Sith had come to visit, but from what he gatthered, there was something not right about it.

Today everything was on lockdown. No one was leaving, and no one was coming. It was a good day to build his small home then.

The initial units which had been built near the palace were occupied. Ceryc didn’t mind as he preferred his space. He was a loner of sorts, more introverted than outgoing. Silence and a field he could cultivate for himself would be enough. The ground was not ready for that yet though. A simple life was something he had always dreamed of, but knew Mandalore wasn’t able to offer that to him yet. Perhaps in time.

It was a hot day, the sun beat against his back. He’d been working for a few hours so his shirt was off. Only a white tank top covered his torso because he did not want to burn. His shoulders were bare and had taken too much sun by this point, but another two hours would have the shelter in place and a roof over his head for the night.

Ceryc sat the hammer down on the table near the rest of his tools. His canteen was there, half full. He needed a drink of water and some time to rest.

[member="Merrax Quez"]

 

[Amz]

There was a time and a place for everything, and Merrax could only intrude on her Ba’vodue for so long before she officially overstayed her welcome. She needed her own space, to re-shape her life, and establish a new routine. Besides, he’d done more than enough for her already, [member="Joanes Quez"] brought her home. They’d reconnected, and the last couple weeks had brought her a measure of healing, applying a much needed balm to soothe the hurt and shame she’d carried since her vod was snatched away all of those years ago.

Despite the reconnecting she'd done with them, though, she still felt like an outlander.

Suffice to say, it was strange being back on Mandalore, to be around other Mandalorians in general. Those that stayed close to home were somewhat different, in a way, than the Mandalorians you met out roaming the Galaxy.

Either they kept the traditions they’d been raised with close to heart, or lived by their own moral compass. You never knew which type you might encounter, and the later was always better to be avoided. She’d learned that the hard way and tried to keep to herself afterward. Despite what their laws might say and dictate, thirteen was too young to be all grown up and out on your own.

Originally, her plan had been to return back to Wayland today, where she hoped to find a place somewhere near her Ba’vodue’s ranch. But with the planet on lock down, any plans she had were brought to a screeching stop. So, she changed course, using the extra time on her hands to see to other tasks that needed tending. Namely, putting herself to use and offering to help work the farming lands, taking a trip mid-afternoon to the more rural parts of Sundari, to the untamed grasses out on edge, where the city mostly faded from existence.

It was surprising, once she reached her destination, that the first face she came across belonged to Ceryc, the man she’d sassed at Yasha Mantis’ verd’goten. Looking back on their encounter brought a stab of guilt, fleeting as it was.

Pride...the pitfall of Mandalorians everywhere.

Blue eyes swept over the broad back and muscular forearms while he was turned away, absorbed in his task.

Casually she moved over to where he was, clearning her throat to draw his attention. “So...you wouldn’t have happened to of done any bounty hunting recently, have you?” She bit her lip and smiled. She shouldn’t have, but she really just couldn’t help herself. She was dressed appropriately in a plain tee shirt and pants, copper hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.

“Here,” she produced a clean rag from her pocket and handed it over so he could wipe the sweat from his brow. Clearly he needed it more than she did, anyway. Her gaze glanced briefly passed him. “You’ve made a lot of progress there, vod. Did all of this on your own?”

[member="Ceryc Haat"]

 

[Judah Lesan]

Ceryc has been drinking his water when the voice called to him. He recognized the question immediately. Setting the canteen down he smirked and turned. The woman whom he’d met at Yasha Mantis’ verd’gotten celebration had stumbled upon him building a small home. She’d been, short with him, but he’d deserved it. Most human men would have been offended, but not Ceryc. Being a Mandalorian he found her attitude attractive. It helped she was physically appealing as well, but the attitude was enough to keep his attention.

”All of it, yes,” he replied offering his canteen. He didn’t know why. She didn’t look like she’d been working hard.

He took the clean rag from her hand and nodded a thanks as he used it to clean his brow. The ginger locks of his hair were wet with sweat, pieces of them clinging to his face. Ceryc was hopeful she didn’t want it back. Even if she did, he was shoving it into his back pocket where it hung out slightly.

”You feel like picking up a hammer and helping? By myself I’ve got a couple of hours left, an hour if you help.”

It didn’t matter her answer, Ceryc was going to finish before the sun went down. When he was done he would carry himself to the cantina for a cold pint of ale and something greasy. Ceryc has worked up an appetite, and the night would not end without it being filled. If this [member="Merrax Quez"] was worth anything she’d be able to help him make quick work of the house. A woman that couldn’t use a hammer was one that didn’t need his attention.