Daughter of Fen
The fire rose high, stretching up towards the starlight, oranges tongues flickered. Mia threw another log onto it and stood back, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans she stared into it, beyond it and not at it at all. Her mind was busy, she'd been busy but her work wasn't done. Far from it. At her feet stood a black alusteel box, inside was packed with foam supports for the two items it contained. She'd thought long and hard about this, about her choices, and about the path she was walking. There were days that she welcomed death, even longed for it, for an end to her existence and the days she did she became reckless, throwing herself into every fight that she could, antagonising anyone who looked like they might be able to kill her.
But she couldn't just die. She had to die in a fight, and it was only in the fight that she remembered Rel, that she remembered her people and her duties. She might not be Mand'alor anymore, but she still had a duty. In that moment of the fight, she realised her need and desire to live, so that she could protect those she cared about, and in that moment she fought hard and won. Then the cycle would start again. Its most recent beginning, was the hunt for the sith that had attacked her and Jorus, but Mia had caught herself early, staved off the foolish desire to rush in, she was playing a different game, and she needed a back up plan.
The message she'd sent to Ordo had seemed more like a demand than a request, Mia had not meant it to be, it was just force of habit.
@[member="Ordo"]
2100hours. My house. Don't be late, it's important.
Mia
She'd left the front door open for him, allowing him to walk through to the garden where she stood. Black box at her feet, two chairs and a small table between them sat facing the fire. Set on the table was Mia's last bottle of correllian whiskey and a pair of glasses. A strong drink was needed.
But she couldn't just die. She had to die in a fight, and it was only in the fight that she remembered Rel, that she remembered her people and her duties. She might not be Mand'alor anymore, but she still had a duty. In that moment of the fight, she realised her need and desire to live, so that she could protect those she cared about, and in that moment she fought hard and won. Then the cycle would start again. Its most recent beginning, was the hunt for the sith that had attacked her and Jorus, but Mia had caught herself early, staved off the foolish desire to rush in, she was playing a different game, and she needed a back up plan.
The message she'd sent to Ordo had seemed more like a demand than a request, Mia had not meant it to be, it was just force of habit.
@[member="Ordo"]
2100hours. My house. Don't be late, it's important.
Mia
She'd left the front door open for him, allowing him to walk through to the garden where she stood. Black box at her feet, two chairs and a small table between them sat facing the fire. Set on the table was Mia's last bottle of correllian whiskey and a pair of glasses. A strong drink was needed.