Can't Expect a Bit of Folks

[Delilah Keyes]

To: Isley Verd
From: Anonymouse 2.0

We've never met. For all I know, you don't even know I exist. I don't want anything from you, but if you remember meeting a dark haired woman named Sarai Skirata, twenty six years ago.....

Your daughter would like to meet you and see how good her mother's memory is.

​

​Anselom​

Glee Anselm​

Delilah wasn't entirely certain why she was bothering. Her biological father had written off her family, and she'd written off him two decades ago. She'd gotten tired of the glowing memories and accolades her mother would try to share with her daughter a very, very, long time ago. So now that she had turned her back on the culture she'd been raised in, what, in the world, possessed her to seek him out now?


They had arranged a neutral enough location. A small floating dinner, innocuous, out of the way on the outskirts of the capital city. A perfectly respectable, perfectly boring neighborhood. Not a place Delilah did business, and not a place [member="Darth Metus"] was likely to be recognized.

Back booth. Mid afternoon between the lunch and dinner rushes. The place was mostly empty, which was just fine with her, and part of the point of picking that time of day. Other than a handful of locals who really never left the place, constantly refilling cup after cup of luke warm caf, it would be just them.

Back table. She'd be wearing a black hat.

Partly, she was curious. Partly, she just wanted to know if he was actually the disappointment she'd assumed he was her entire life.

Partly however, she didn't like having potential loose ends in her own story that she knew nothing about beyond the fond musings of a deluded woman.

 

[Malok]

Darth Metus did not go for Fire and Brimstone.

Not today, at least.

Tonight was a special occasion: a reunion between a Father and Daughter who had never met. In truth, the Sith Lord should have anticipated a message such as the one he received. The days of his youth were filled with heartache, bad decisions, and passionate flings along the Bounty Hunter Path. It seemed that, honestly, he was doing a fantastic job of continuing his lineage from that period alone - but a terrible job at being a Father. The overwhelming majority of his children were now adults themselves: more than capable of having children of their own. He had missed everything. Their first steps, words, and triumphs. Their tears, scraped knees, and learning how to survive in the Galaxy.

So now, a man who had decided to live for himself, had a single chink in his armor.

Darth Metus tasted death once, and so resolved to follow his own Path this time around. No more honor, no more Resol'nare, no mor uphill struggle. But the sole exception to this rule were his progeny. He made an effort...efforts...to be there for the children who would give him the time of day. He made an effort to try and make up for lost time. And thus did he make the trip to Glee Anselm: not as Darth Metus, but as Isley Verd, Father of Many. So, during the appointed time and at the appointed place, the Sith Lord arrived at the table. Gone was his armor and weapons...in their place? A suit and tie.

"Is this seat taken?"

[member="Delilah Keyes"]

 

[Delilah Keyes]

"Just by you."

The entirely neutral expression on the young woman's face belied the friendly words. Del had also come dressed with different intentions in mind from her usual work. There was a mental sigh when she realized that the dark jacket and dove grey button down beneath it was an almost mirror image of what he'd chosen to wear.

As if there were any doubts this was her father, he was the image of the description her mother had given her as a child. Part of Del had hoped that wouldn't be particularly accurate- rose coloured with time and loneliness, but in this at least her mother's recollection had been perfect.

Bully for her.

In truth, Del was coming into this meeting with a life time of preconceived notions, few of them good, and even less of them charitable. It wasn't fair, but then, most things weren't.

"So. You're Isley Verd."

The utter lack of expression might have meant any number of things, but she was clearly unimpressed. But then, she'd been prepared to be.

"I'm Delilah."

Not the name her mother had given her, not that he would know that. And she had no intention of starting this conversation off with anything so personal as that.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Just by you.

The words...invaded the Sith Lord more than he anticipated. Her voice. Her inflection. Her neutral expression. Each seized his psyche and dragged old memories to the forefront. The visions played before his mind's eye - reminding him of the woman he had once cared for. Ah, the one that reminded him the most was the look Delilah gave. Unreadable...but only used whenever Isley had done something horrendously stupid. Which, admittedly, was quite often. Ah, Sarai - those were good times...but the thought of her alone was much like itching an old scab. He blinked to cease the stream of memories before taking his seat in front of his daughter, saying nothing more at first.

She introduced herself. Delilah.

Well, that certainly wasn't expected...but it was beautiful nonetheless. Sarai was the type of woman who had a bold view of the future; so much so that she had three potential names locked down for any potential children. That part of her always amused Isley, for he was the exact opposite back then. Where she planned, he went with the flow. When he wandered, she planted roots and refused to move. To this day, the question of "why didn't she come with me?" yet lingered in Darth Metus' mind. But. Today was not about walking down memory lane. Well. It was, sort of, but not remotely about the conclusion to he and Sarai so long ago. Not yet, anyway.

"I..." he parted his lips, as if to respond. But what appropriate response was there? Sure, he could chat chit - ask her what she did for a living, ask about Sarai, blah blah blah. Or. He could make the most of her time. She didn't come for an interview, or so he thought. So, there was no point in giving one. The Sith steeled himself and leaned forward ever so slightly. His hands rested before him, now folded, as his eyes met hers. In that regard, it was like looking into a mirror, for the eyes of his youth - devoid of the Dark Side's taint - looked back upon him.

"I didn't know. And I don't know why she did not tell me about you. That...it would changed everything if I knew."

The words leapt out of him. A convoluted wellspring of emotion overtaking rational expression. Darth Metus...no...Isley just let what was on his heart spill out however it sounded.

"I don't know what she told you, of why I left like I did. I don't know what all you know of me. But. I left to prevent dragging her down. She was of the Mand'alor's Clan, and I was in bed with what he hated. Darkness. Sith. I was learning how to create...corrupt...I was addicted to it. Sarai...I had to choose between Mandalore and Myself. And your mother had to make that same choice. I wanted her to come with me - but she was a Skirata. She wouldn't abandon her people and lose her soul as Dar'manda for me. For anyone."

"So I left. Quietly. I didn't drag her down. I didn't force her to lose her Clan. Her identity. But. If I had known about you...things would been different. I...I would have picked differently. But I've made my bed. I've lived...and died...based on the choice I made that day. I spent your entire life walking that path but...I tried to do better. I came back and I tried to do right by Mandalore, by my Clan, and by everyone. I tried to unite us, tried to keep us together. I did some good to make up for a lifetime of bad. So, Delilah I...let me do more good. I wasn't there for everything. I wasn't there to see you become who you are today, but I want to be here to see who you'll be tomorrow."

"Will you give me that chance?"

[member="Delilah Keyes"]

 

[Delilah Keyes]

Whatever Del had come here expecting to find, whatever preperations she had made mentally for this meeting, for this stranger in front of her- nothing had prepared her for the outpouring from him in that moment.

Other than drawing back, spine pressed tightly against the inside of the booth, her expression didn't change as she listened to his .... heart felt narration. This was neither the man she had expected as formed by a lifetime of assumptions and grievances, nor the one her mother had spoken of.

"Look. This isn't a confessional, and I'm not a priest."

If her tone was hard, well, perhaps that could be forgiven. Not that she cared, at least, not that she would admit.

"You two tangoed. You left. Whoops, she was pregnant. That kind of thing tends to happen. Ultimately, it's a pretty simple story."

She and her mother didn't really get along. At least from her perspective. She had this infuriating quality about her that meant nothing she could do had ever really penetrated that soft, smiling face. Sure, she'd yelled at her when she was a kid, but she only ever did it out of fear when Del had done something particularly dangerous and stupid. She knew, without a doubt, that her mother loved her. But she could never affect her. Not really. It wasn't that Sarai didn't care. She did. But it didn't matter what her daughter did- she'd smile and nod and say 'if that's what you want'- and it was so infuriating because it felt like, ultimately, nothing she did actually mattered. Sarai existed, rooted, more like a tree than a person.

There was a moment where she had almost lied and told him that she had died, the day that Mandalore had shattered. Just to see if it hurt him, and what that looked like. Just for a moment, and then the urge passed.

"Kind of hard to take the 'if you'd known' seriously, to be honest," she said, her voice so carefully nonchalant. "She still lives exactly where she did when you two met. It wasn't like she would have been hard to find if you had wanted to. To see how she was doing."

It wasn't like we would have been hard to find. If he had looked, asked, even once, he would have known that Sarai had a daughter, seven months after he left. It wouldn't have been hard.

"Even after Mandalore.... well. Even after that, she wouldn't leave."

In case he came looking, but she didn't say that part. Not because it would cause him pain and she had decided to not do that, no. But because it was one of the things that she despised her mother for. The devotion, twenty six years later.

"She refused to ever speak poorly of you. For what it's worth," she added quietly.

"Not a single word. She wouldn't let anyone else either."

There, for a moment, the bitterness actually came through. That had been the beginning of the rift between them. The first, the only time Sarai had ever struck her daughter. And cemented that her memories of the man who had walked out on her were more important than the feelings of the daughter actually in front of her.

She didn't answer his question. She didn't know how to. Because she didn't know yet, if she could.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Metus did not expect a miracle.

While he had essentially tore himself open and poured everything onto the table, there was no guarantee that this would magically form a bond with his estranged child. But...at least they cut through the crap and got to the meat of the sandwich. The Sith waited as his words hung in the air, watching as [member="Delilah Keyes"] pressed ever so slightly against the booth as she spoke. Her expression never wavered and her response was...hard. This wasn't a fairy tale after all, and the Sith swallowed all delusions of a "perfect" reunion as Delilah said her piece.

"I wanted to. You don't know how much I wanted to go back to Mandalore and try to convince her to come with me. But. The label of Dar'manda isn't something our people take lightly. If I had come back, to the beating heart of our culture, I would have been putting Sarai's life in danger. But if she had told me...no amount of power would have let me walk away from my child." He began.

His hands came to be folded on the table, grasp ever so slightly shaky. For a moment...they had been so close and not aware? Did she...did she hear about what happened that day? Was she unharmed? The memory of fire licking his flesh invaded his thoughts. Slow. Agony. Mandalore haunted him...and his hands shook all the more. Yet his expression did not mirror this - nor would he draw attention to it. Instead, he shook his head.

"She's always been that way." he said softly. "She'd never speak ill of me...but there I was, giving her ten thousand reasons to. I left. I left to become her people's enemy and she didn't speak ill of me." He sucked in a breath, remembering their last moments together. Her tears, yet that acceptance. Her saying "If that is what you truly want." Sarai...she was too good for him. That was for damn sure. Those memories were enough that the bitterness of Delilah's final words glossed over him.

"I don't expect the two of us, you and I, to hold hands and everything be okay overnight. I know these things take time. But I'm willing to spend the rest of my days trying."

It was simply stated. While he didn't mind thinking about Sarai, this was about Delilah. This was about trying as best as he could to be a Father for once in her life.