Quiet The Longing

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat stood, sauntering over to the small table in his abode. He cleared what little was on it for the woman, glaring at the dinner, then to her dog, then up to her.

He sat down, folding his hands on the table. "Mercenaries sent as polite dinner conversationalists. Must be a new trend." He said gruffly, eyeing her in the same way as before- infact the whole time, really. He sat down, defenseless. No armor. No weapons. Nothing.

"Who sent you?"

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Oh, that wasn't part of the job," the woman replied as she plated the meals, "I just happen to like a good home-cooked meal as much as the next person. Seemed a decent opportunity, all things considered. Think of it more as a perk."

Jet continued watching the man as he moved to clear the table, rising back to all fours, nostrils flaring at the scent of food filling the cabin. Hazel spent a cursory moment sifting through drawers for eating utensils before turning and setting the plate down before the man, "My ship isn't exactly equipped with the more conventional culinary tools and after traveling so much I'm not real keen on the space-station fare or the usual freeze-dried meal-in-a-bag. Enough to make a person sick after so long..."

She took a seat, the beast placing itself to her left. Hazel pulled a ribbon of dried jerky from a pouch on her belt and tossed it down.

Eyes of greens, golds, and earthen tones met those of molten steel, the woman's brow knitting faintly upwards, the ghost of a smile somewhere in her scar-stitched expression. Candidly she picked up her fork and knife, intent on enjoying her meal while it was hot and proving--should there be a need--that it was not, in fact, poisoned or otherwise tampered with to his detriment.

The first bite was ever the blissful, self-serving one. Damn, she still had it. What a relief. Hazel leaned back in her seat, pondering on where best to start.

"There's a station up Hydian Way just outside of Junction called Helm's Bay. Only been there once or twice in my life, don't make it a habit go venture that way due to the distance but also the locals. Rough group out there, not the best place for a woman to be traveling on her own when her connections there are thin. I was up that way for another job, transporting a few things for a client, took a pit stop at Helm's Bay."

"There's a lot to be said about a person that won't give Jet here a second thought and most of the locals there don't. Deadlier beasts where they come from, I suspect. It's no skin off his back but I'd rather not set him up for failure. So I keep to myself, don't stay long, only this last time I got sidetracked by a man who sat down for lunch with me. First and foremost I'm a Merc, so I figure it's someone who's not real happy about me taking jobs in their territory. Figure he come to warn me off, maybe send me packing with a few new bruises - not like it hasn't happened before."

"Instead he offers me a job. Said he needed a different kind of Merc and after he looked over my resume he thought I'd fit the bill. Need you to find someone for me, he said, and deliver a message. His name was Strider Garon and your meal is getting cold."

She took another bite thinking a tumbler of Whyren's would be perfect right about now.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

A sneer formed across the man's face. So his initial suspicions were incorrect. She wasn't here to kill him- she was here to bring him back. Someone to pull him back into the game. He had been content here. Content with the idea of living out the rest of his days as a farmhand and doing nothing more than drinking and bailing hay. He picked up his utensils, leaning forward in the chair. He wasn't eating out of politeness, truthfully- he was hungry as hell. He went over her story again, imagining the monumental task of finding him. Maybe it wasn't the pay, but the job itself- the idea that she could say 'I found the wolf'. She had a large hunting ground. It was the entire galaxy, at the starting point. But she was good enough to find everything that he did, and go to the next step. Find the next person he paid off. Find the person that was hiding his ship, probably. Find the person that he traded gear for a speeder with. Find rumors of whispers to where he was.


All because his best friend wanted him to come back to his people that badly. He tapped his fork on the table, before digging into his meal. He didn't speak for a while, quietly eating."Before I got here, I spoke to a priest on the Outer Rim, when I was zig-zagging to avoid people like-"He pointed his fork at her."You from finding me. He told me that no matter where I would run, that as long as I carried the weight of my sins, that they would eventually find me in one way or another."He dug his fork into the meat, crushing and pulling rather than politely cutting it."He told me that I am a sinner. I am a pariah, I am a doomed man if I so continued on my path of destruction, death, and hatred. He told me to seek forgiveness and retribution."He gestured with either utensil to the walls around him."And for a moment, I thought I had found it. I thought I had finally come to terms of what I've done, who I am, and all that jazz."He said gruffly, staring at Hazel the same way he stared at an ant."I helped burn a world. I've killed so many people- so many things. Destroyed. Never built. That was my wife. My one saving grace. And my daughter."He chewed the piece he had cut earlier, rolling his fingers along his utensils. He dug them back into his meal.

"And they're gone."

He looked up at Hazel, before stopping to think. He tapped his fork on the edge of his plate in contemplation."They must either want me or need me. Either way, secrets out now. Strider calls. So I'll answer for him. But personally, between you and me-"A rare instance where Preliat confided in someone occurred. Oddly enough, he was as tempted to tell her all of his inner workings, as well as viciously stab her with his fork."I could give a damn about the Mandalorians anymore. About the galaxy. As far as I'm concerned- it's all relative. The Sith, one type of evil. The Jedi, another. The Republic, all those little Empires, groups, banners. Really, the same to me. Just another thing to stare at and watch burn down."He leered down at his meal, continuing to dig into it."I don't really know what I'll be doing, or what he wants. But I'll go back. I'll put my armor back on. Pick up my rifle again. Though, again, between you and I, I don't think they'll like where I put it."He stood up, going to the sink, filling up a cup of water. He returned to the table, setting the cup down before sitting down, staring at Hazel.


"Were you weary about this job, knowing who I am?"


[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Hazel was content to let the man speak while she ate, smiling thinly as he finally dug in. She liked to think it wasn't just his appetite that compelled him to eat with such zeal, but that it was a delicious meal, nevermind the tendencies of a person to forget social etiquette after living alone for so long.

It had taken her damn near two years to develop her mental/verbal filter for socialization after returning to the galaxy at large.

She could respect his ability to turn aside personal pursuits for the need of another. Hazel couldn't say how high on the scale of desperation Strider had been to send someone off on a fool's errand to track Preliat Mantis down but clearly the need was there to put someone through such a challenge.

"Would be a fool if I wasn't. He gave me your file to look over, made sure I was aware of the risk. Said he had a gut feeling I'd be the one to find you after so many others had failed, but he seemed to think I'd have the best chance of actually making contact."

Another bite, no hurry, no rush. Savoring the meal was just as important as the meal itself.

"Wasn't easy, you did a fine job covering your tracks."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"Obviously not well enough."He said grouchily. Unlike Hazel, Preliat was a career military man- and thusforth, rarely took time with his meals. He tapped his fork on his plate again- if Hazel were an observant one, she'd take note of the habit."So, they sent the Huntress after the Wolf."He jabbed his fork back into his dinner."How fitting."He leaned forward on the table, glaring at her- but not in the same way as before. Now, he was taking in everything, trying to dig deep into her and find out what made her her.


"Coming after me, must've been a challenge. I doubt what money Strider had could convince you. What was the selling point of this job? The fame? Or was it an offer of something else?"

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"I hardly think Huntress is a fitting name. That would imply I kill things for a living," she crunched down on a veggie, picking a length of seared greens from her plate and offering it to her pet, smirking as the beast turned its nose up at it, "beggars can't be choosers Jet."

A glance at the tap-tap of fork against plate.

"No, he didn't have much to pay with. Typically I'd turn down a job for what he was offering. My particular line of Mercenary work doesn't pick up a lot of high-paying jobs and what he was asking for was a lot of time, effort and travel for not a lot of return. Though he gave me a few names to drop out in his neck of the woods - those came in handy. And it wasn't the fame. Fame doesn't do me any good, if anything it just makes my job harder. I'd rather not deal with it."

"It was your file, actually. What I read in there, if it was all true, I thought I might've found a kindred spirit."

She was expecting him to laugh and so went back about cutting her meal, all signs of a smile gone from her face.

"It's awfully hard to love something that can be taken away, but you never stop loving it even after it's gone."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Kindred spirit. That's the term she used- which earned her a hateful, but intrigued glare. And then she spoke again, making light of the years of pain, rage, and misery that had plagued him for so long."How terrible indeed."He sat in silence and stillness for a moment, pondering his next words.


"How awful it is to care for something that cares little for you, as well."

To that end, it was difficult to say what Preliat exactly meant- he was, after all, a man of enigma and secrecy, especially in regards to his personal feelings and motivations. And as far as motivations went, for the last few years, it was simply to keep going. But now, Hazel- being the observant person that he knew she was already, could tell that something was awoken in Preliat. Something clicked, something was stirring inside him. And whatever Hazel had awoken, it wasn't a desire to help kids and raise money for poor people.


Preliat was going to burn down the galaxy, or die trying. Strider had sent Hazel here to bring him back to his people, to try in vain to help his friend come back to the Mando'ade- but only, truthfully, inspired Preliat to commit to an ideal that he had hated for so long. Preliat never understood them, that was the reality. He never understood what they did, or why they did it. But he realized that each was different, each variation was to further their own goals, take vengeance, or right a wrong. Here he was, having dinner with what he assumed Strider hoped to be his savior, his angel that guided him back to the light. But all Hazel was doing, unknowingly and unwittingly, was the surface in which his soul struck the match. She was the one that awakened his demons, all with a dinner and a few words.

"I never really thought much of them, truthfully. I always thought them...so brute. So..."He looked down at his hands, for a moment, sitting on the hypocrisy in his words."Savage."He smirked slightly at the sinister thought."And now, I understand. It is far easier for someone to know something. I knew who they were, I knew what they were, I knew why they did it- but I never..."Brown eyes stared back up to Hazel."Understood. And now, a man scarred and a man battered by the galaxy, I understand what they did and why they did it. And now, I sit the product of years of warfare, anger and suffering. I sit a beast that they let loose upon the galaxy."He leaned forward, his eyes drifting down to his meal.


"And so they shall see the fruits of their labors, the fruits of their endeavors, Miss Hazel."

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"How awful it is to care for something that cares little for you, as well."

"Mmm," Hazel responded in kind, pushing veggies around on her plate through the pooled seasoning and sauce. A quiet fell over the Merc as the man talked. The kind of introspective quiet that happens while reaching deep into one's memory for images and thoughts long kept buried. Ever since reading his profile, learning his story, she'd been doing a lot of that. When she looked back up at his silence she wished there was a way to communicate to him all the things she felt she could understand.

But that wasn't the sort of thing people like them wanted to hear from anyone else. Hearing it meant having to tear down walls carefully constructed to keep all those things tucked away. A line formed on her brow, puckered where a large faintly glowing red scar ran through it, and she took a moment to think on his words.

"So you mean to set fire to the galaxy," the woman said after a beat, "is it worth it?"

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

She understood, in a way. That much he could tell. But he would not ask, nor would he search his soul or his conscience for a reason to care. He tapped his fork on his plate, then his eyes met Hazel's. He watched the line form on her face, observed the scars, observed the small details of her face that made her her.


Her question posed a moment of thought.


"Nothing I've ever done in my life has been 'worth it'. Everything I've done is of little worth. Truthfully, it's not about being worth it. I just don't care anymore. They sent you here to find me, to bring me back to help put out whatever fire is coming or is going on- and in reality, all they're going to do is make it worse."


He smirked.


"And it's all your fault for getting the Wolf back."

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Oh no, not my fault," Hazel casually stabbed a cut piece of meat with her fork and held it up, gesturing at herself with it, "this is not the spark that lit the flame, merely the vector that fed it," she smirked at the man, popping the bite into her mouth, "if anyone is to blame it's your friend."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"My friend..sure. That'd be interesting to have. At least one." He said with a half smile. Although it was a truth- the fact that Preliat had exactly zero friends and fewer people he tolerated was well known.

He stared at her for a while, before speaking again. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" He said, speaking a tone that hadn't been heard for a long time.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

There came a pause in chewing, a considering look from across the table. The same sort of look one gave a bull rancor when it glanced your way, even in a non-threatening manner. Hazel made no hurry to answer for it was not a question that a wise person answered quickly.

"That's a bit like asking me if I'm afraid of guns. I am familiar with guns, I grew up with them, started learning how to shoot as soon as I was able to hold one. I'm not afraid of guns," her own tone had lowered some, "but I know they're dangerous and I know, absolutely, that one could take my life. I respect them and you can bet every time I find myself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, I'm thinking real careful about my next words, my next move."

A thin smile crept onto her face, gaze falling to a grumble at her feet. Jet was watching her, drooling. Hazel sighed and with a roll of her eyes picked the last piece of meat off her plate and dropped it into his waiting jowls.

"I'd ask if you enjoyed the meal but I presume a clean plate speaks for itself," she chuckled, moving to stand and take up the plates, "I'll clean up and be out of your hair then."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Brown eyes watched the plate lift from his place at the table. Iris dilated at the woman, before they took a small moment to blink.


"You could also stay, as well."


It wasn't a choice being presented, but rather, a thinly-veiled request.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Oh?" a brow larked curiously, "well I suppose I could take my time..."

The Merc gave a faint smile, holding the plates out to the blackstalker to lick clean. She hadn't anywhere pressing to be aside from not wanting to overstay her welcome. Her next job was two sectors away and a simple freighter-run, nothing requiring a strict time schedule.

"Jet could use a good run in the fields. He hasn't seen a place like this since he was a pup and Jagunda wasn't anything like this." Plates clean she moved to the sink and turned on the hot water, smirking as the beast attempted to lick sauce from the top of its muzzle where its tongue couldn't reach.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"Time is something I have a plethora of." The man said gruffly, letting her take the plates off the table for him. Quite a good houseguest, he thought for a while. He stood up and beckoned the hound over to him.

Like all predators, it was quite aware of whom the deadlier of the two was and came to him. That and Preliat took the liberty of rubbing it's head."Come hither and receive the fields." He said in a facetious sing-song voice, walking to the door with the hound following closely.

The wolf and the hound- Preliat wondered if he should've written children's books. Perhaps he'd make the book about the wolf and the hound about two animals who had more in common than they thought.

Preliat stood slowly, slowly pacing over near to the door, before stopping. Preliat reached to the side of the door, grabbing the long rifle near the door. It wasn't really required- but literal wolves were known on the planet, and he preferred not to die an ironic death.

He hugged the rifle to his chest, and sauntered to the doorway, turning back to Hazel.

"I think you'd might like the sun setting here." He said with a rare, genuine smile. He opened the door, and the hound- bolted. She however, was free to follow as she pleased. He turned back to look at her, the smile still on his face.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Sie-sich," the woman uttered to the beast as it trailed her progress from table to counter, releasing it from proximity range. A passing at-ease, if you will, to let it wander freely. Hazel eyes tracked its movement across the cabin as it closed in on the man, limbs tense, a snarl bitten back just within its maw. Small miracle it didn't take the man's hand at the pat on its head. She watched the interaction with a fair amount of interest, looking over her shoulder as he stepped off to the door and released the hound.

Jet bolted straight off the porch and out into the field, scaled form disappearing into the high grasses.

"Sun set, huh?" Hazel spoke over the sound of running water, a look of mild surprise on her expression. Perhaps she'd caught herself guilty of one of the few things she despised the most: passing judgement too quickly. So easy to do in a galaxy full of dangerous people.

"Well alright," water off, the Merc wiped her hands on a towel and turned to step out after her host and onto the porch.

"You expecting more company?" she asked, nodding to the weapon in his hands, "Or have I just fallen into a clever trap."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Wherein, did Preliat define 'trust'? Difficult to say, since he had little trust in few people. He did however, have faith. He had come across many religions, many different beliefs in his travels. That resonated with him somewhat, as far as placing his faith- but not trust in people.

He had faith now that Hazel was not here on a mission of violence towards him. He shrugged as he exited his abode, speaking towards the setting sun. "I'd have buried my tomahawk about three inches into your neck and sent you back to whomever hired you if that were the case, Miss Hazel." He checked the rifle. "This is for the wolves of the literal kind." He paused and turned around to face her.

"Not the metaphorical ones like myself." He said with a grin. He sat down on the porch, weapon resting between his legs. The rifle could easily go out 600 meters, and Preliat had found he was dead on accurate at about 500 of those. So he was confident that Jet and her were safe. He always seemed to escape death, so he never worried about himself truthfully. That, or Preliat truly wanted to die somewhere deep down inside.

He looked over at Hazel."Are you a self taught mercenary, or are you one of learned skill? I tried to make it as difficult as possible to find me, yet-" His brown eyes moved over her figure."Here you are." He said, his soft spoken Ordo accent betraying what they both knew what he was really like.

Then again, Preliat had been away for a long time...


[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"I don't doubt that for a minute," the woman replied to the insinuation of death by tomahawk, "bit messier than I'd like to go, decapitation."

Not quite so messy as the time she nearly died in the Netherworld. Nearly - had it not been for a stray togruta. She never did managed to wake in time to thank her for her troubles, Hazel wondered what'd become of her.

She stood at the edge of the porch just before the stairs, feeling the dying rays of light warm the skin of her face. A calm settled over the lands in a way she'd not experienced in a long time. Not since before ... not since home. She rarely stopped to enjoy these sort of moments anymore. They seemed hollow to enjoy while in the back of her mind that incessant tugging to keep moving, keep searching, never let her linger too long.

Hazel looked back at him in his chair with his rifle and crossed her arms at her front, rolling her jaw in consideration of his question, "Believe it or not I was a trained warrior of my people since the day I was old enough to walk. My whole family was, all nine brothers and sisters, father, mother, their parents before them. Over the years the unwinnable war took them from me one by one. I'm the last one left, but I don't have a cause to fight for anymore," she took a deep breath and released it with a slow hiss through her teeth, turning to look back out at the horizon, "seen enough death for ten lifetimes. Can't bring myself to do it anymore, so I sell my skills to help people instead and I'm good at what I do."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"The mercenary with a conscience...." He thought for a while, then broke into a quiet laugh. "You're a walking cliche, Hazel." He said merrily between laughs.

He thought of home for a while, thought of his many brothers and sisters back on Ordo. He turned back to Hazel, his laughter subsiding. "I have- or had a large family back home as well. I cannot say what became of them. I only know that my brother is involved somewhere in this..." He waved his hand matter-of-factly upwards, indicating the galaxy at large.

"I was a mercenary when I wore younger mans clothes-" He then realized that he was closing into his mid thirties in a few years. The thought terrified him that he had accomplished so little, but he pushed the thought aside for the moment. "Though I cannot say that I operated in the same manner that you did." He said half jokingly. The other half sounded nearly like regret. Perhaps Preliat had begun to hate what he had done and what he was, and it was only time alone in a cabin that made him realize such.

He rubbed his hands together. Looking back towards Hazel. "I have seen a burning planet, and the literal incarnation of death and despair. I hope no one ever has to see what I have again." He referred to the Dark Harvest and the destruction of Dromund Kaas, both of which he played critical roles in his people's fights. Dromund Kaas and the destruction of it was not a small feat, nor was Preliat's survival of both. He was a tenacious and resilient man, and life clung to him like a disease. He was lucky to only have a Beskar leg and a few scars to account for his time as a warrior.



[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Cliche?" Hazel's gaze switched back, brow curved upwards in momentary confusion broken by the cracking of a short smirk, "I hope you mean that ironically. I would argue that I am a walking contradiction. If I was a cliche I wouldn't be the only Merc running around with non-lethal ammunition refusing to wage war for anyone."

She didn't know of Dark Harvest or the ramifications of that horrific event. Hazel had been 400 years deep in cryo-sleep at that time, so she took his words for figurative meaning. Burning worlds weren't so few and far between while the galaxy tore itself apart. The recent destruction of Selvaris came to mind, as did the razzing of Yuuzhan'Tar by the Moross Crusade several years ago. Drunkenwell. Corellia. She was sure she could come up with more given enough time to think on it.

The woman's smile faded at his last words, finding him to be something of a contradiction as well.

"If you don't want others to experience it then why would you threaten to create just that only minutes ago?"

Somewhere out in the grasses a rabbit gave a short squeal. Seemed the beast had found its own dinner.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]