Private A New Beginning

[Seva Beroya]

VORNSKR
PLANETSIDE | R-DUBA
TAG: Drex malor

VICARIOUS​

This planet grated her bones.

The populace itself was accepting, but there was a group that called this place home that weren't all too friendly. But Seva'd be damned if she and her kin could not refuel before heading back to Vlemoth Port after the meeting on Kestri.

It was still surreal to find herself and her clan agreeing to this endeavour. But it did sound amazing - forging a living myth through the stars. Besides, the Beroya Clan weren't the only Crusaders to have joined the Covenant. She had seen Feydrik Munin 's armour among others there. But for now, they had to refuel in order to get everything fitted and ready for the road ahead back home.

Beviin was resting at her feet where she was leaning against the ship, when his ears suddenly perked up and he lifted his head to look down the street from the Port.
"What's up, Boy?" Seva asked, taking notice.
The Narglatch looked at her before looking back down the street and getting to his feet.
"Really? In this heat?" she groaned.
He took a step forward before looking back at her.
"Fine, ok." She stood up straight, dropping her pistol that she had been fiddling with, back in its holster. "Jet, Beviin hears something and we're gonna check it out. Keep watch here."
"Aye." said her fellow Beroya and second in command. "Just holler if you need help."
"You bet."

With that, the duo took off.

Before long, Seva could also hear what the cat was hearing - little bells. Well, it sounded more like metal clanging, but same principal. She also eventually saw some children huddled at a corner while they all looked around it toward something out of sight. Seva frowned behind her visor - that was a bit odd, even for her. Beviin's ears kept moving while his tail twitched. When she saw that, she stepped up to the kids.

Their wide eyes staring up at her made her realise how frightening she would look to them - black armour and no face. She took off her helmet and tucked it under her arm, her green skin glistening in the desert sun.
"What are you guys looking at?" she asked them.
A boy gaped at her for a second longer before finding his voice. "I think someone like you actually - he has the same kind of clothing." he said. "He looks hurt though, so we leave food and water for him. He's on his way to that now, actually."
Seva flicked a credit at him. "Thanks kid. I'll see how we can help him from here. Just stay safe and out of the Brotherhood's way, yeah?" she said.
He gave her a gap-toothed smile. "Thanks lady. You betcha." With that, they all ran off.

"Easy, Boy." she told Beviin before walking around the corner to face the stranger the children had been speaking of. The Narglatch fell into step behind her, though his keen feline eyes stayed vigilant.

The sight that greeted Seva had her breath almost catching. He couldn't be that much younger than she was, but he was scrawny and hollow, his sand-worn armour looking more beat up than her battle-scarred black set. He also looked sickly as he approached the provisions the children had left. She motioned for Beviin to stay before she moved to where his peripheral would catch her. When she spoke, it was like she was speaking to a spooked Narglatch kitten.

"What's your name, Vode?"​

 

[Drex malor]

Drex Malor
Tag: Seva Beroya
Theme: Theme
"Cursed be you, Gods. For I have done no wrong"

The bells rang — as they always did.


Heat burned his skin — as it always had.


Day after day. Step after step.


What once might have felt like punishment had long since lost its meaning. Even time itself had thinned, stretched, and finally broken.


Still, the words remained.


"Run, boy. Run and never look back."


And so he had.


Running became jogging. Jogging became walking. Walking became all that was left. For years now he had moved without destination, carrying only one certainty: do not stop. Keep the crystral close. Keep going.


His legs were worn thin, joints aching, muscles long past failure. Yet standing still was impossible. Beneath his armor, red markings burned like embers under ash — not random scars, but words. Ancient Mandalorian words, carved into flesh and sealed there by something that did not care for mercy.


Around those markings, the cost of the journey was written plainly. Skin scorched by endless sun. Scars that healed poorly, if at all. Wounds that should have ended him long ago. One might have wondered how he still walked with such pain — but pain had already taken its place beside him. What once screamed now whispered. What once tore now dulled.


Drex walked like a thing that remembered how to move, but not why.

The port came into view, as it did every time. Figures waited. He did not acknowledge them.

His water bottles hung empty against his shoulders.
His food bag sagged, hollow.

He was thin — too thin. His clothing hung loose, ill-fitting, torn and poorly stitched, like a child wearing garments meant for someone else. His beskar'gam, once polished, was broken and scarred beyond recognition. The T-visor was fractured; the right side eaten away, exposing the only color left in him — poison-green eyes, fixed forward, vacant. As if whatever once lived behind them had already moved on.

He murmured as he walked. Ancient words, barely shaped by breath.

When the children reached him, they did what they always did. Small hands tugged at his bottles, refilling them. Others packed food into his bag. Their voices washed over him without landing. He did not stop.

His gaze passed over them — unseeing — and drifted onward.

It settled briefly on @Seva Beroya.

No recognition followed. No change.

Drex continued forward, bells tolling softly at his side, mumbling words meant for a road with no end.

or a moment it seemed as though he ignored Seva.


But the question had reached him.


His mumbling shifted. The ancient cadence broke apart, fragments falling away until only Basic remained.


"Name…"


The word came slowly. Uncertain.


"I… cannot remember."


The words were barely more than breath, drawn out with effort, as though speech itself resisted him.

"Cuyir gar veman…?" he whispered, the words barely shaped by breath.

A pause.

"Or has Hod Ha'ran finally poisoned my spirit?"