Private Of bastards and broken things

[Ijaat Mereel]

As was his custom, Ijaat had been late in the night working. And rose earlier still to resume work. Though his body and mind seemed hale, the deal with Ashin Cardé Varanin hung in his mind. Not a strict time table, per see. But a time table none the less, and lately he had felt sand through the glass as things blossomed and spiraled beyond his original intent. But who was he to deny the will of the Manda and the call of destiny? If not him to rouse his people, then who?

This day found him behind his desk, trapped behind dataslates and drawings, talking with a rather thin Mon Calamarian delegatory about repairing the Morut Kyr'bes. Mig Gred would be overseeing it, but he still believed in dropping in on projects at random. Couldn't shed the front line leader mentality. Not just yet. Not just yet.

As one of his Ori'rami'kad leaned in and spoke of Mia Monroe making good on her return, he excused himself and turned over matters to Darius Mereel , who had recently returned from the folds of the Enclave to serve as A'lor of House Mereel and assist in rebuilding Mandalore. There was a conversation to be had eventually between the two, but as they had agreed... Now was not the time for familial bickering.

Walking to the landing bays, he was to be seen in his old grey and red armor with clasps of beskar Mythosaur skulls holding his warden cloak about h is shoulders, a hammer that glowed softly with heat on one hip, a pair of DE-10 on the other. Arla Rodarch got nervous about him walking about unarmed these days. So to calm her and Mia, he went armed.

Waiting on the backwash of engines and dust to settle, Ijaat eyed the two ships, and an odd presence he thought he recognized. She had brought company. Hopefully, they could cook. His own skill amounted to reheated rations and caff. And most surrounding him were soldiers, not chefs. Suppressing a growling stomach that had been likely a day or two without more than a nutrient bar, he smiled as he unclipped his helmet to his belt and waited on Mia and whoever else.

Ordo

 

[Ordo]

Mia Monroe Crossed the stars and the armored man followed. The cold dark interior of the ancient YT-2000 started to warm as they got closer to Mandalore. The man hadn't seen the world in decades. The T-shape visor reflected the passing shapes and colors of hyperspace as he thought hard about his mission. The people, had been found worthy for a period of renewal. He was not sure why the Manda had demanded that only part of him go but this was it's choice. The whole situation felt oddly detached like this. The memories came easily and the power of the Manda which it nearly never used was the most potent thing he had ever experienced, it made the force feel like a emptying balloon beside a hurricane.

Inside the armor his body kept pulling apart and stitching together, over and over again. It was too much. He had to deliver the Manda back to his people before the beskar no longer held him together long enough to repair the unraveling of his being.


They dropped out of hyperspace like blinking into existence from nothing and made their way to Keldabe. Keldabe was home and the one place even across centuries and wars he was confident belonged. At least in part. How many times had he lifted stone upon stone to rebuild here. How many times had they plowed and bulldozed and planeted and raised the city. This was the only place he knew that Mandalorians were as they should be.

....

The old YT settled down beside Mia's ship and the boarding ramp lowered. The built up fog of war inside poured down the ramp and quickly dissipated into the Keldabe air. With his old CM-fragstorm held in the crook of his arm. He slowly descended the ramp and let the air blow across his armor. He bent and touched the ground and felt the slow vibration of the beskar beneath the dirt. He had returned and soon he would fulfill his purpose for his people one more time.

He looked up across the flight deck and felt Ijaat's eyes. But he would wait for Mia, she enjoyed talking and there was too much they both would not be ready to know just yet. With a mental nudge the force around him left and chose not to touch him as he moved forward to wait for Mia to explain what she could.

Ijaat Mereel

 

[Mia Monroe]

The constant but subtle use of crucitorn since her battle with Carnifex had gone, the would be perhaps the first thing Ijaat would notice about her as she descended the landing ramp, her eyes swinging to Ordo as the fog rolled out of his. She shook her head a small smile on her face. He'd never been one for a dramatic flair but he was certainly providing a show with all the fog.

The second thing thay he might notice as she approached, was the broken haunted look that she'd had behind her eyes since he'd hauled her back was gone. He had been the last ghost she'd had to conquer, and instead he had answered a call that she hadn't intended to put out.

Mia pressed her forehead against his, letting out a soft sigh, before drawing back. "He's not entirely himself. Part of him is still in the nether, guiding our vode to manda. But he definitely is him. Its... complicated. Probably something that will need a lot of alcohol and food to unravel."

Ijaat Mereel Ordo

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

For a moment, the world ceased to exist and all folded into peace and calm. He was not Manda'lor, not the Gar'buir, not anything but a man enfolded and protected, the same as he tried for her. The moment didn't last, and he didn't complain outwardly as the weight settled back on his shoulders. Now he had a form to put to presence and he nodded. A slow smile crept over his face.

"Well, by the fires of the Manda, as I live and breathe... Su'cu gar, Ordo! Your return is most welcome. As for alcohol and food, we have plenty of the former in my quarters. And the latter, well... We may have to look about. I tend to forget it's part in the essential web of life."

A sheepish grin there to stave off a lecture.

"Besides, I grew used to ration bars."

Mia Monroe | Ordo

 

[Ordo]

Ordo looked at the man and stood for a moment. Memories flooded in of a civil war but nothing was in order. He started producing the fog again from the joints of his beskar'gam and had to focus himself on keeping his body present.

"Never been picky, ner vod." He said as he arranged the memories chronologically in his mind, "Not pretty enough to be high maintenance too."

He said the last comment and it took a moment to find where it had come from. He had been a fairly jovial person here once and a bubble of than life had rose from the proverbial soup of his being and found its way to the top. The Manda comforted him from the next life, that it was as it should be.

"If you have a stool to sit on while we share rations, I promise I won't eat that too."

Mia Monroe Ijaat Mereel

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia stepped towards him as the fog began to spill out, but hesitated feeling the null bubble he had created around himself. It wold get easier, the jumble in his head, with part of himself left behind it was harder, but it was her fault he was here and she wanted to do something to help. She let out a defeated sigh, knowing only time would help him and instead turned her attention back to Ijaat.

"I'm telling Elise Ahana-Gwyneira you're living off ration bars, so you can suffer her talking at you while she cooks you stew."

She was teasing... mostly.

"Come on, lets see if we can help him put things in order." she stepped out of the spaceport, Jhi as always was waiting for her, but catching the small shale of Mia's head slipped away. She'd deliver her reports later. They were not different to the ones that Ijaat received from her, but Jhi knew well enough that Mia wanted to know everything that happened when she wasn't here.

She considered the Oyubaat, but figured they would need somewhere more private and steered them instead towards the forge.

Ijaat Mereel Ordo