Forgive Me

[Keira Priest]

Music

New Nystao, Wayland​

Mandalorian Outpost​

​

The best way to blend in on a Mandalorian world was to dress as if you were prepared for a fight to cross your path any moment, and within the culture that usually meant wearing some form of armor and boasting an armament most wouldn't consider necessary for everyday life. For Keira that wasn't hard to pull off, and it helped that she'd belonged to all manner of incarnations of the people through the years, and was so accustomed to that way of life that it would have been nearly impossible for her to completely abandon it even if she'd wanted to. But she didn't, not really. Never had, despite the fact that she'd mostly walked away. Age was catching up to her, and she found it much more preferable to spend time with her family than elsewhere. But recently a new Mand'alor had taken charge, and that prompted some kind of looking into.

Maybe things had changed.

Wayland was a planet she'd not set foot on in a very long time, and it was a battle that took place on the very same world that many Mandalorians had held a grudge against her for. That time had long since passed, and now she could return with full anonymity, at least mostly. She'd painted over the ram's skull that had once sprawled across the back of her armor, knowing full well the reputation Verd had earned after what her former family had done was well deserved. It wasn't something she'd come here to contest, and when it came to earning back respect there was none more expert at it than her. But that wasn't her goal, at least, not yet. She was just here to watch, and maybe learn a thing or two about this new era of Mandalorians.

The last thing she expected was to find him, least of all at a place like this. It had been a very, very long time since she'd crossed paths with her younger brother, and she'd assumed that if anyone were to disappear and stay gone, it would have been him. He'd never truly meshed with the ideals and culture of their shared people, and so she hadn't taken it too personally when he'd departed along with the rest of the clan. But something must have happened to change his mind, because she knew a person like him wouldn't return to old stomping grounds lightly. Least of all in his beskar'gam that she'd pestered him to wear since day one. Whatever had happened, it had drawn him back into the fold, and that gave her all the reason she needed to stay.

Circling so she could approach from in front of him, she looked him up and down, reaching out to grab the back of his neck and bring their helmets together in a traditional greeting. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, shabuir."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

His eyes were wearier than they had ever been in youth, a mournful azure hue that mirrored a Corellia he left behind. Alkor glanced up when [member="Keira Ticon"] took ahold of the nape of his neck, and he appeared almost ready to accept death. He was far from the scrawny, featherweight of a man that Ticon had known several years before. Time had placed its hands on him and not let go until the old was bled out.

When she offered her helmet, Alkor felt his lips pull apart into an unbidden smile. It was good to see someone he knew. It was good to know they would not take his life, at least not right away. Perhaps there was a chance at redemption, after all?

He left some three years prior with the renegade, Isley, a man that they both called Brother. Keira had even called him as much, once. Now, she offered an insult from the culture that connected them, and Alkor could not blame her in the least. Su'cuy, Keira. Ru'gar'cuyi jate?

He tapped his helmet in the offered greeting and replaced it on the table, next to his overfull mug of sticky sweet smelling tihaar. His tastes had gravitated away from the paler, deceptively alcoholic brew of their shared home world to something more apt to stick to the bones. It was an iconic drink of the Mandalorian people, because it had all the fight that they boasted and more in every mouthful.

His breath reeked of it.

When finally he broke away from her gaze, Alkor appeared even more aged, and if she strained, she would feel nothing from him in the Force. There was a story to tell, that much was evident. The man misplaced for all his life had found himself seeking home, only to learn he had no concept of what home was.

He had a glimmer of hope that Keira still knew.

Spoiler

Mando'a: Have you been well?

 

[Keira Priest]

"Jahaala luubid. I haven't been around in awhile." At least, not around what they shared as familiar territory. He'd been away for three years and she'd been gone for just as long, having departed once Isley turned his back on all of them. The life of a wife and mother had swept her away quickly, but now a different sort of family beckoned. Not one related by blood, but that hardly mattered. He was just as much her brother now as he had been before, if not more so, given he was all she had left. "I missed you, y'know. You need to drop the disappearing act." Something told her it ended today, for better or worse. Maybe they could start rebuilding again. Or at least try.

"I don't blame you. Never did. You're one of us still, as far as I'm concerned. And we're all Verd has left." Straightforward and to the point as they always were with each other, never wasting words unnecessarily or sugarcoating anything that needed to be said. He'd grown in their time apart, and despite what most would have perceived as a strained bond she was just as proud of his progress now as she would have been at any other point. He was growing into himself still, a process that would take time, but she saw already that he'd changed. Before there was slim chance she'd have been greeted with a smile, let alone Mando'a.

A quick glance about their surroundings told her that she had a lot of catching up to do, as she recognized far fewer faces now than she ever had in the past. In a way they were two old soldiers returning to a fight that was now mostly dominated by younger warriors, but then, that's how they'd always been. This was their people, and for once she would restrain any commentary about how it had taken him long enough to warm up to the idea - three years and counting, thank you very much. He'd hear it later, but for right now he was back, and this time she wouldn't be letting him go nearly as easily.

"Something's wrong. Me'bana?"

Spoiler

Mando'a: "Well enough," and, "What happened?"

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Isley," he whispered the name, though Keira had likely already learned the fate of their lost and broken family scion. Alkor was there, and he had witnessed it. He knew how deep and how vast the treachery stretched. In the last moments of his Force Sensitivity, he had even felt the depths of the man's depravity. That was why he resigned himself entirely to turn away from it and to never look back. "The things he did- I did- I watched more people die, and played my part in consolidating the power of a new, tyrannical superpower, but worse than that..."

The images in his head were still vivid, despite the fact that they no longer echoed through the Force- something for which he was most thankful. He saw the twisted visage of the man who offered a seat at his table, turned from man to beast. He saw the same darkness that embraced him once, but he could glimpse how it had grasped the man once called Isley by the heart and led him down a path that continued to narrow until it disappeared into shadow. Alkor found words difficult as he despised his comprehension.

That was where they diverged.

Alkor no longer walked beside him on that path. He realized that it was a lonely one, and that eventually, Isley would even turn on him. Power was all that mattered on that road, and in seeking it, a man would cut any throat he had to.

Even the throats of those most dear.

Alkor could no conceive of what that truly meant, but now, without the Force he had begun to feel it. The tears had dried, but the parts of his face where they did still burned. For the first time, he comprehended his own regret. "I committed myself to something without understanding what it meant, and when the time came for me to stand firm in that conviction, I walked away from it."

He shrugged.

"I can't begin to make up for that, or for all the wrong I've done. I know what they say- "Cin'vhetin," but I feel like an adolescent who has only just begun to understand the gravity of it. Grace is a strange thing- I may never be worthy of it, but I will work in an attempt to become so."

"That is what I decided."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

There had been a time where Keira had confronted their former brother first in an attempt to reason why he'd walked away, and second with a far more permanent end in mind. Both had proven unsuccessful for separate reasons, and since then she'd divorced him with the idea of being family, holding him as dead and buried in all but the literal sense, and even that much was pending. Looking back it would have been better if he'd stayed dead that day on Manda'yaim, but life was never as merciful as it should have been. So unfortunately he still walked, but thankfully the standing Mand'alor had the sense to declare him dar'manda, and there was some solace in that. It would be far easier to bring about closure with less repercussion.

But right now her last remaining sibling needed her, and she was nothing if not endlessly devoted to her family. Reaching out she placed her hand atop his own, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, one of the few he'd seen in a long while. "I'm probably the worst person to ask for any kind of forgiveness, but you don't need it. You came back, and that's more than enough. I've got you, vod'ika." He wasn't the only one who'd walked away in the past, but none of that mattered. There was far more to redeem than just their individual reputations.

Shifting, she moved her hand from his, knowing his distaste for physical contact ran high. "Right now I'm the only one in the clan and the standing Alor, so welcome to the family." Her voice was laced halfway with a bitter sort of irony after they'd both been welcomed into the clan by its biggest traitor. This was their second coming, and most certainly the better one.

"We're going to have to earn our way back into the people, both of us. It's not going to be easy, but that's not what we signed up for, 'lek?"

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"One can hardly begrudge them their distrust," he replied as he swigged another taste of his spiced drink. Alkor stared at the table for a moment as be considered their situation; while they were very much still practicing, and firm adherents at that, the Mando'ade still had the foul taste of Darth Metus on their tongues. It taste like dust and ash, a man who valued power above his people and even went as far as leaving his own clan to die.

The losses on Echoy'la had been inumerable, both resources and lives. It was a cataclysm on a comparable level to the one on Manda'yaim, despite the planet itself being a gas giant. Since that, the Sith had seeped in and claimed the world for themselves. Alkor had watched it happen.

Now, the two of them were within a stone's throw of Mandalore, and Alkor figured that if Keira was up for it, they could check in. The gods only knew how the vode would react to people claiming to be survivors of Clan Verd.

"Should we go?" he asked quietly. "Home, I mean. Do you think it's a good idea?"

 

[Keira Priest]

"What else have we got to lose by going?" It was a mostly rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer. They had already lost what standing they'd had among the people, and what remained of kin and clan was sitting at the table presently. In reality they had nothing more to sacrifice but their lives, and Keira couldn't even blame whoever might end up making that call for doing so. Whatever they had coming upon returning home was probably deserved, and so she was at peace with it. All they could do was speak their case and hope someone had the good sense to listen, and for once she wouldn't fight whatever verdict came down.

Again she spared a glance to those other warriors that surrounded them, her gaze impassive. It felt right and wrong at the same time, being here, and she knew that feeling would only increase tenfold once they set foot on Mandalore. "Might as well. Either they exile us just for being related, or we figure out a way to turn this around. No matter how you look at it, we've got our work cut out for us."

Standing from the table she offered him her hand, knowing he probably needed the help up after how much it looked like he'd been drinking. Showing up hungover probably wasn't the best impression to make, but he'd never had that problem before. "Hate to rush it, but I don't think we're going to accomplish much by sitting here drinking and reminiscing about better days. Whether we call ahead or not is up to you, but something tells me we're going to have a helluva welcoming party waiting for us. And not the happy kind."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]