Marching Far Away [Mando and Friends]

[Vilaz Munin]

They would never forget. They would never forgive.

The helmet of the Rally Master was held in his arms, his head was bowed, and his face had grief and depression. He was not the only one with that face of sorrow. Every Mandalorian warrior would have the same emotions and face that Vilaz had, especially to the clan of Skirata and everyone else that was close to their fallen Manda'lor. Vilaz and his clan, Clan Munin, were facing the direction of where their fallen leader was laying down in an interceptor, crowned with medals of honor and other honors that distinguished him as a brave and honorable man.

The tragic death of their fallen Manda'lor, as well as the lives that were reaped at the battle of Teta would be paid sooner or later. The lives that were taken away from at the battle would be paid in blood, but not just ant random person's blood. No, it would be paid with the blood of the Sith Order and nothing else.

But that time would have to wait as it was a time to mourn the lives that they had lost.

They would never forget. They would never forgive.

 

[Evi Sohl]

The hollow feeling in her chest remained the one constant sensation through the last several weeks. She’d gone from agony to numbness and back again several times over, and nearly lost herself in a cavern of grief so deep it took Cade and Emberli both to draw her out of it. Even still, she would often catch herself staring sightlessly out of the nearest window, absorbed in a memory, or with the holovids of the horrific events on Teta replaying over and over in her mind.

There was no going back after you saw something like that, and E’vi couldn’t even imagine being there to deal with it first-hand. As Anija had. As Arla had. She should have been with her dalyc’vod at a time like this, stood and fought at their sides. But she’d remained on Mandalore tending to the duties she had as a weaponsmith, and to her young son.

Cade...who didn’t understand quite yet what had happened to his babuir. Why he hadn’t come home...why he was spoken of in harsh terms by so many of their vode. She’d not been able to explain even the smallest portion of the events – because she wasn’t even sure if she’d understood them herself. He was silent as they walked into the gathering for Gilamar, an unusual solemnity fixed upon his tiny features as he clung tightly to her hand.

Crimson eyes soon found her family, standing together as they always did. As they always would. Anija, Arrbi, Arla...and Rianna. Their mother had come, drawing on a reserve of strength that was a wonder to see. Cade tugged on her hand and gazed up at her, whispering as she leaned down to listen. She nodded and released him, watching as he walked up to Rianna and gingerly wrapped his arms around her legs. Tears stung her eyes at the gesture, and the grief nearly threatened to overwhelm her again.

It took her a moment to approach, moving silently to stand with her family, fingers reaching out to touch the shoulders of each of her sisters in turn. E’vi turned her gaze toward the Interceptor where Gilamar lay, a man she’d known by reputation only...but was bound to in the manner of his death, at the hands of her buir. The gentle giant of a man who took to Cade as if he was born to his blood, and accepted her the way he’d accepted her sisters before her. He’d struck down the Mand’alor on Empress Teta, and driven a beskad into the heart of every Mandalorian in that very moment.

E’vi swallowed hard and her voice emerged in the barest whisper as she bowed her head. “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

Spoiler

~ [member="Emberli Garett"] ~ [member="Rianna Ordo"] ~ [member="Anija Ordo"] ~ [member="Arla Balor"] ~ [member="Arrbi Betna"] ~

 

[Countess Calum Teramo]

Coming in after what seem to be a large crowd. Just what she doing here that was right to play the respect to the Mandalore. Working very hard it seem to find a place among so many. Finding her helmet clip to her right hip. Letting the music feel her ears. Those around she knew some but knew they didn't know here at all. Why should she to them she wasn't more then one of the many others among those to pay respect.

Only after a few minutes she found someone she knew this brought a smile to her lips knowing what they had been threw. Taking a few moment as she slid up beside him. Speaking low, "Nolan, I see trouble found you again, in battle.", as her eyes flowed onto the reason why she all the mandalorians was here.

[SIZE=13.63636302948px][member="Nolan Detta"][/SIZE]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna stood quietly and solemly, his helmet clipped to his belt. Teta had been brutal and costly. Both sides had seen terrible casualties. Both sides had mourning to do.

Anija had lost her buir. The Mandalorians had lost their Mand'alor. The price had been high and, for now, the gains were unknown. What was known was that his family was hurting. Many clans were hurting, many were mourning, but this was his clan. His family. When Anija had recited the marriage vows over the darkened and smokey skies of Teta, her family became his.

The choir sang on and the people around mourned privately or openly. Death was a constant companion to a Mandalorian, just as Life was. They did not fear it, but welcomed it. The body was a vessel for deeds, honor and glory lived on in the memories of those to witness it. So long as the memory was honored, the spirit lived on.

Betna did not mourn, not yet. He shed no tears, he let no pain enter his soul. Not yet. It was not a lone gunman that killed Ordo, though that person pulled the trigger. It was not the Mandalorians, though the Sith propaganda would say otherwise. The Sith had done this. The One Sith had allowed they Dark Lord to poison Ordo, to warp his mind and body to their bidding.

Betna would mourn Ordo in his own way. Their blood would be his tears. Their death cries would be Betna's choir song. Their pleas for mercy, his funeral chant. Betna would mourn with grief soon enough, though the Sith would mourn far more before he did so.

For now, though, he simply held Anija tighter. Held her closer. She needed to mourn and grieve and he would not abandon her until she had done so. War could wait a time. The Sith weren't going anywhere.

[member="Anija Ordo"]

 

[Fanus Rendix]

Fanus had arrived at the funeral. He had gotten word that the Mandalore was dead. He wished that he was there at the battle, that he had fought alongside his brothers and sisters, but he hadn't. He looked at the interceptor where the Mandalore lay. The Mandalore was a man he respected deeply. The death of the Mandalore impacted him a lot, like all the other Mandalorians attending.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum" Fanus whispered.

 

[Azrael]

Inching across the vast chasm of space, in slow ponderous orbit as the memorial service for their faithful friend and leader etched into the hearts of the many and mighty Mandalorians people - the stealth cruiser kept course with those few at the helm to provide the children of the Manda with a time to honor their fallen hero. An infinitesimal speck giving a mere sliver of an eclipse on the bright and heated star, the ship kept pace, slowly allowing the shields to keep the crew, and all the people on board from being burnt up by the fervent and undying flame that washed over it's rotund surface. There were many types of ceremonies that were common to the Mandalorian people -- and while this was likely not the first time that something like this had taken place, Azrael had arranged this memorial to be a remembrance to Gilamar's most intent focus. Aboard a vessel of his design, and encased in a fighter he'd commissioned, he felt there was no better way to allow the man peace and rest, than within the confines of his creations.

Surrounded by the thick throng of Mandalorian warriors, weapon smiths, engineers, medics, and every manner of occupation and skill was a boon to the wounded heart and heavy spirit of the Field Marshal. Familiar friends and family touching his lives, and some literally giving their physical support to stand by him in this time to remember and honor. The red-headed Mandalorian, daughter of Ordo was given a mimicked shoulder grasp while she passed in front of him, offering compassion to the half-blood. He didn't look up however, while he deeply appreciated the gesture, his mind was in turmoil cutting at his resolve with the sharp knife of the short time he'd gotten to know his Allit Buir. Exchanging soon, that passing movement, his hand fell to his side to be soon interlaced with his little sister. A gentle squeeze to her own, accepting the silent but all too important physical presence. She'd been with him on Teta, riding with him in the heat of battle, and proudly marking out her first strides into a life that would be marked by battle, and by war. Ever thankful that he wouldn't face these times of loss alone, his spirit would have not sustained without the continual and unflinching loyalty offered by the vode.

As the chanting lyrics of the choir sounded their somber resolve, a voice pricked his ears, and pierced a part of him he had just begun to allow a glimmer of resurrection. For a moment's pause, Azrael's head lifted and turned to spare a glance beyond the fighter encasing his fallen Father, directing gray eyes towards the sound. The brunette who had intersected his life in more than one way drew his attention. There was no smile, nor was there a stoic resolve, just a sense of loss washed over his visage, but a nod of appreciative respect was offered in slow concourse before his head shifted. Watching the figure of a woman climb aboard the fighter and place a kiss to the crown of Gilamar's head before stepping down. So many had come from the corners of the Galaxy to pay respects. It was only right that a man so respected and known throughout the cosmos would warrant such a mighty congregation. Not only Mandalorians, but also a great many friends of the engineer and Chief of clan Skiarata were in attendance.

Muted footsteps were taken in measured accord away from the line memorializing from afar, Azrael approached the fighter. His bionic left hand touched the hull where the symbol of clan Skiarata rested, fingers splayed on the sygil. His head bowed, and in silence, his lips moved forming the familiar words of a single phase in Mando'a. While he no longer walked on this plane, Gilamar was not gone, he was merely marching far away. The Manda would welcome this man with open arms into a warrior's paradise to meet with those he had lost himself. A wife, perhaps a child. Gil didn't speak much about his past, even with Azrael, but he knew the man had many on his list that he recited every night to keep them in fond memory. He would do the same for this man and all the rest that had touched his life.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Gilamar; Buir."


[member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Anastasia Rade"] | [member="Devorah Khaladan"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Kal Kandossii"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Chloe Kandossii"] | [member="Briika Detta"] | [member="Julm Surma"] | [member="Rianna Ordo"] | [member="Rhodessa"] | [member="Pyrrha Nikkita"] | [member="Atin Kandossii"] | [member="Illyria Skirata"] | [member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Nolan Detta]

Glancing to the Countess as she walked up, he smiled a fake smile for her sake.

I always find trouble, it's the Detta way.

He looked back to the precession of family and escorts that walked, then he glanced to Az, a recent friend, paying homage to the fallen Vod. Nolan stepped out from the crowd, knelt beside the fighter holding Gil, said a small prayer to the Manda with pride in his eyes and honor filling his heart, the spirit of Mandalore gave him pride to say goodbye to a member of the Mandalorian family.


@Azrael @Countess Calum Teramo

 

[Anija Betna]

[member="Azrael"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Arrbi Betna"] | [member="Anastasia Rade"] | [member="Atin Kandossii"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Briika Detta"] | [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Evi Sohl"]

The vast hangar of the stealth cruiser echoed and amplified the mournful song of the choir, causing it to reverberate throughout the space. For now, Anija kept her gaze on the form of Gilamar Skirata, as he lay in repose in the Vhe'viin Interceptor. As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the tears at bay. As it was, she was gripping Arrbi's hand so hard that she feared she might break it. There was so much she still wanted answers for.. that she wasn't sure she'd ever get.

She looked up briefly as Arla passed close, reaching out to grip her sister's hand for a moment with her free one. She had no idea what Arla thought about the whole situation surrounding Ordo and the events on Teta. And perhaps now wasn't the best time to ask. No sense pouring salt on a still fresh wound, as it were. And so, she settled for griping Arla's hand for a moment before releasing Arrbi's hand to hug her sister tightly. For now, there weren't many words. She held the embrace for a few seconds before she stepped back with a nod, and allowed Arla to continue on if she wished.

it was then that her gaze fell on Atin Kandossii, She did not know him, but his reputation preceded him. He'd done well on Teta... as had many of the vode. She sighed softly. And many more had lost their lives when they answered Mand'alor's call to the Sith held city planet. But she did not fault Gil for that. Not one bit. In fact, that alone strengthened her resolve. The Mandalorians needed to fortify. She had been discussing just that eventuality with a few trusted individuals, but Teta for her had been the catalyst. Now was the time. The Protectors would rise again.

Already she was putting together a list of potential people to recruit. Atin was certainly among them. As were a few others. What bothered her was that she wasn't sure how the subject of the next Mand'alor would pan out None of them were. But that wouldn't stop her from moving forward. Mandalore needed to fortify. No one wanted another repeat of the Battle of Mandalore. As these thoughts were running through her mind, Anija felt a presence... one oddly familiar. Something nagged at the back of her mind for moment as she glanced around the hangar.

It was then that a woman moved quietly through the crowd. She was not someone Anija knew, but she couldn't shake a feeling of recognition. It became even stronger when the woman rested a hand on Anija's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. She could think of only one woman who had done so recently. Closing her eyes, she reached out in the the Force and sent a silent thanks. She'd felt that same presence before at a funeral for another fallen Mandalorian. And again on Aeten II. Her gaze connected with the other woman's for a moment before she stepped away and towards the Vhe'viin Interceptor.

As Anija looked away, she felt yet another familiar person enter the hangar. Rianna. The woman she had come to consider her mother. Turning to look, her eyes widened slightly. Rianna wore not the robes of the Jedi... or the armor of a Mandalorian. Anija wasn't even sure that some had been forged for her before the events of Coruscant. She was however glad for the woman's foresight to not wear Jedi robes. Emotions were running high as it was. She gave Rianna a smile and a silent nod as the older woman approached. When she was close enough, Anija wrapped her in a hug as well. She felt that perhaps the physical connection might help lessen some of Rianna's own pain.

Releasing Rianna from the embrace, Anija scanned the hangar once more. As time passed, more and more vode filtered into the space. The sound of the choir's singing added a very solemn note to the atmosphere in the room. her blue eyes found Evi's crimson ones across the exapanse of the hangar, and she nodded to her sister. She waited until the woman had come closer before rapping her free arm around E'vi's shoulder for a few moments and whispering something in her ear. She couldn't help but smile as she saw Cade wrap himself around Rianna's legs.

Her hand found Arrbi's again as she watched the exchange. Pain welling up in her chest again. Feth, it hurt so much. And she didn't know what to do. But she would do what she knew how. Building the Protectors was a start. her thoughts were interrupted as her gaze was drawn to the Vhe'viin Interceptor as she saw Azrael standing near it, his fingers splayed out over the Skirata sigil that was painted on the side. She gripped Arrbi's hand a bit harder and sighed, trying to reach out and lend Azrael strength. They would find answers. They had to.

 

[Kable Detta]

Kable stood in silence next to his wife [member="Briika Detta"] and who was holding their newborn daughter. It saddened Kable that one of the first outings for their family was at a vigil for the fallen Mandalore. But such was they way for Mandalorians, Being legendary in battle was not without it's consequences, and few were as great in battle than Gil.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

It was strange.

As he stood tall next to his "Mother" he could feel the pain and sorrow the soul of Gilamar felt. He wanted to reach out to them all, to tell them that, against his will, he was still alive, he was still here. But they both knew he was not. Fractured was the man that had once led these proud people. Did Mordecai consider himself Mando'ade? A part of him did, the part of old man Gilamar still held that pride. But as an adolescent renounces the path of his parents, so had Mordecai renounced the spirit of his ancestors.

So what did he find himself chanting alongside these men and women of iron? Striding past through the crowd he walked up the ramp to the starfighter and gazed at his "Father". Gilamar's pale face shook something in his core. He touched his forehead to the older man's and whispered something in his ear. He didn't need to. He could have thought the words and Gilamar would have heard them. Maybe he was becoming sentimental.

A side effect from his interesting predicament.

Walking back into the crowd noticed a woman. Young, strong of spirit. She felt familiar. He could feel all the pieces of Gilamar scream to her. Pleading for him to go to her. He found himself moving, walking past the other sons and daughters of Mand'alor. He stood next to her and spoke quietly, <You knew this man?>
[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Jak Skirata]

His brother was dead.

And he hadn't been there.

Hadn't been there to help him, been there to save him. He felt he had failed his mother and father, his family. As the Skirata clan stood in full attendance, Davin felt the pain in his chest rise, but his face stayed solid and stoic. Death was a part of life in their culture, and Gilamar had died honorably in combat, more than many people could say.

But knowing that didn't stop the hurt. Didn't numb the pain.

His buyce clipped to his belt, he looked over to [member="Illyria Skirata"], so strong she was, he wondered how she could be that way. Gripping the Heart of Fire around his neck in the palm of his hand he fought back a sob and joined in the sorrowful chant.

 

[Rianna Organa]

Rianna approached [member="Anija Ordo"] it was only a brief moment before the young woman embraced her, Rianna in turn embraced Anija. How their daughters were suffering right now, Rianna drawing back put a hand to Anija's cheek. Words as simple as it will be alright did not seem enough right now. The words would feel empty for nothing was alright at the moment. Time. Time they all needed time. Rianna drifted away looking at Arla who was in turmoil over so many things she wished she would open up to her.

Rianna felt this tug looking down she saw young Cade, bending over she picked him up wrapping her arms around him burying her face in his neck. Her grandson this mean [member="Evi Sohl"] was here too. She did not look for her daughter at this moment she held Cade. Cade the affirmation that life goes on his warm hands around her neck Rianna sighed she wished this was all a nightmare that would pass and be done with the pink and orange hues of the morning sun. But it was not.

Rianna fought for control. She clenched her teeth hard and took a breath. She continued to hold young Cade as she watched [member="Azrael"] go forth to the Interceptor. Gil's death would weigh heavy on her as she watched him. Part of her believed still that she could have prevented this it was such a horrible thing.

Rianna turned to Cade, "At this time when we honor our lost loved ones we say, Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'ady, ni partayli, gar darasuum" Yes they held to their traditions to teach their young ones.

There they all stood Clan Ordo each lost in their own thoughts.

Rianna's mind began to think about home and all that was happening there. All of the children had come home all of them waited to see what would happen. They all kept silent during the vigil. The soft whispers of words they would not linger here like some there would come a time when they would have to let go.

Spoiler

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Cambry Owens]

Cambry sort of sat on the step, watching the procession from as far back as he could. Still, it seemed like no amount of distance here would put away the haunting chants of the grieved and mourning, a sound that rang in his ears and make his gaze turn glassy as it peered into the flooring. ​

The profound effect was not one he expected. This was a ceremony for Mandalorians, and he had always hesitated to name himself among their ranks. Family. Whatever it was. ​

​

​

But whatever his belief, this was the Mand'alor. That was supposed to mean something, and surprisingly to him, it seemed to. Somewhere deep inside, the reverberating echo of the song for the deceased pulled at something within him. ​

Whatever this man was, he was deserving of respect. Cambry decided that as a way to put his inner confusion and turmoil to rest. ​

With shaky knees, he rose from his spot on the stairs. He was wearing his full Mandalorian suit, including the emotionless T-visored helmet. He looked like one of them, standing here, but inside he felt different. Even the Reps and the Jedi who were in attendance knew how they stood among the proud warriors, but the Spacer couldn't say the same. ​

​

He faced the ship, standing in an odd off-balanced posture from discomfort. For what felt like a long time, he did nothing but gaze upon the affected, his own thoughts rummaging and swirling within his head. ​

Finally, he shook himself from his stupor, and gave an awkward salute, though it was meant in the utmost respect. ​

​

With that, he backed away and made his way out, conscious of how he looked, exiting the funeral of the Mand'alor. That only made his pace quicken, wary of staying here much longer. Not out of fear of what would happen to him, but out of fear of what would happen within him. ​

The Lassie was already prepped. The cargo was loaded. He'd make a fine bit off this run, for a supply merchant who needed someone to ferry his wares, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Verne just whizzed and rotated, making no notice of his captain's discomfort or conflictiveness, only complying with the usual amount of propriety as Cambry gave the order that they should take off. ​

Even as the ship flew out into the starry blackness, that chanting loomed in his ears.​

 

[Basaba Willamina]

She flexed the mechanical arm while watching, Basaba stayed back and the replacement shinked as the blade ejected from it. She was angry, more then that was wanted to get revenge and avenge the closest thing to a father she had really had. She wasn't going to cry but she fought back mourning her friend letting anger soothe her while the rest of the Willamina clan was there ready for what came next. They wanted to march and fight.

 

[Azrael]

A host of emotions were palpable within the ship's hangar, all of them heavy, and all of them expressed in various ways. The vode were here to honor the man, and his legacy that he left behind. They were here to say goodbye, and knowing one day that the Manda may take their lives as well, welcoming them into a warrior's hall in that great veil between life and the beyond. Clawed digits pressed on that symbol while his form rose and stood before the ship, his hip pressed against the aft resting his right against the thrusters that lay dormant. A deep breath was taken in, drawing in strength like air to fill his lungs and his spirit as his gray eyes lifted. For a moment they panned, observing the Mando'ade, before they fell on a certain individual a moment longer. Azrael was seen as someone that was respected and admired. He was a valiant soldier, and a trustworthy friend and brother. He however did not confide in many, and those that he chose to share with, they were certainly something special. Shifting his attention then to the majority of the room, he lifted his chin and parted his lips to speak.

"Mand'alor the Architect." A title only recently chosen from the man's legacy, and what he had built. Mandal Motors was a thriving buisness with no shortage of subsidiary companies, sporting a wide array of orbital space stations along the border of Mandalorian territory and over Yaim itself. The ship they stood within was also one of his favored creations. Even by his word he had sought to built an infantry force known as the Red Legion. "Gilamar Skirata was not a man of many words. He spoke plainly to our people, and he led with a quiet strength. He once told me a story of a Mand'alor from ages past." Azrael paused for affect, again taking a long look around the room. "There is no greater honor than for a soldier to die in service to their Mand'alor. But there is no greater honor for a Mand'alor than to die for his people." His head bowed afterwards as each first clenched for a moment, drawing another calming breath before he continued. "Cherish each moment of every day you breathe, vode, for we live on time bought by the blood of heroes." His right hand un-clenched and tapped the craft's rear thrusters and took a step away. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."

A nod towards a control booth somewhere higher in the hangar set things in motion remotely while the gathered warriors watched. The fighter's dome slowly closed, encasing Gil's dormant body within the craft, one he had personally flown in combat missions himself. Several tokens of appreciation were enclosed inside the craft as it decended on a platform into a lower bay below them. The floor shifted and moved to allow the fighter passage before sealing it below deck. Azrael turned and shifted his attention to the large bay window that still featured the ever present view of their home star; Mandalore. Moments passed as the control tower spoke out the initiation sequence.

Bridge Control to Mando'ade

Commencing countdown; engines on

Check ignition, and may the Manda be with you

5....

4....

3....

2...

1...

Engines whined from the fighter before it rose up and leveled out on auto-pilot. Charging from the ship, the fighter became smaller and smaller in the distance as it fired each thruster as a brilliant blue trail followed the ship as it slowly moved towards the massive star in the distance. Flames licked the craft, igniting the metal like it was paper after a certain distance, and making it glow in the depths of space with the heat and radiation. Sailing into the depths of obscurity and finally entering into the rest of the Manda.

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Basaba Willamina"] | [member="Cambry Benjamyn"] | [member="Rianna Ordo"] | [member="Davin Skirata"] | [member="Mordecai Tal'kyr"] | [member="Kable Detta"] | [member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Fanus Rendix"] | [member="Arrbi Betna"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Anastasia Rade"] | [member="Devorah Khaladan"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Kal Kandossii"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Chloe Kandossii"] | [member="Briika Detta"] | [member="Julm Surma"] | [member="Rhodessa"] | [member="Pyrrha Nikkita"] | [member="Atin Kandossii"] | [member="Illyria Skirata"] | [member="Rave Merrill"] | [member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Garrus Garon"] | [member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Neskar A'toll"] | [member="Navio"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna had seen the others, seen how they mourned. Gilamar was gone, but not forgotten. No, not gone. Merely, marching far away.

[member="Rianna Ordo"] came then, [member="Evi Sohl"] nearby. [member="Arla Balor"] as well. He watched [member="Anija Ordo"] among her family and nodded once to himself. Her family was his family now and his family was her family.

Betna came to each of the women in turn and embraced them. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, though for Rianna he could not understand her loss. He could, however, understand that she had lost something precious to her. When he was done, he took Anija's hand once more, feeling her strong grip. He looked to Rianna, though, a question on his mind.

"Do you want me to find them?" he asked her, his face unmoving. "Do you want me to find whoever took Ordo? Whoever made him... Whatever made him cause this much pain."

They knew it wasn't Ordo who did this. Ordo was merely a tool, much like a blaster or a blade. The Sith had done this. They and their Dark Lord. Mandalorians weren't above vengeance and payback. They were, however, far smarter about it.

 

[Kal Kandossii]

And then it was done. The body of the mand'alor on his last flight. As the ship burned up in entry to the sun he sat on one of the pallets and fished out a flask. Unscrewing the lid he watched as others began to leave the deck and move off, in twos or threes or even whole groups. But there he sat alone and toasting a man he had never met alone with his thoughts.

Several groups went and offered their personal consolations to those who had loved and lost. The touchy feelly stuff wasn't him. But he waited because he knew mourning a loss and celebrating a life given for their people would only last so long. Soon enough vengeance, or justice for they wore the same trappings in the end, would be desired and sought after. And that was something Kal could understand and get behind.

[member="Azrael"] [member="Arrbi Betna"] [member="Basaba Willamina"] [member="Rianna Ordo"] [member="Davin Skirata"] [member="Mordecai Tal'kyr"] [member="Kable Detta"] [member="Anija Ordo"] [member="Nolan Detta"]

 

[Devorah Verd]

"Var atrast savu mieru pasaulē ārpus tās, Mand'alor." Devorah murmured under her breath, words slipping past her lips in the language her mother had once taught her as a child.

A soft, warm gaze was cast across those assembled there, etching each face into memory though she had no names for any of them just yet. That would come, she hoped, in time...were her brother there, he would have known them all in one way or another. But he was not, and she was left to bear the burden of their family legacy along. Such as it was.

A faint shudder slowly traced its way down Devorah's spine, while she forced her mind back to the moment at hand. She watched along with the others as the dome closed and the craft lowered, whispering the litany of words she only half understood. But she could feel the emotion attendant within each syllable, a palpable sensation to her senses as she gently shielded her mind against the ripples that seemed never ending.

She sighed faintly, stepping forward after those assembled began to disperse. [member="Azrael"] stood alone at the expansive window, watching until the fighter was lost even to her vision. He remained still as she approached, footsteps soft upon the decking as her cloak whispered upon it. She spoke his name softly as she stopped at his side, saying nothing more than that as fingers tentatively reached out to touch his hand.

Spoiler

Var atrast savu mieru pasaulē ārpus tās, Mand'alor. = May you find your peace in the world beyond, Mand'alor. (Latvian, Google Translate)

 

[Azrael]

The roaring radiant inferno in the distance reflected in the gray eyes of the Field Marshal while he stood at the barrier of the bay window. It wasn't until he had become a Mandalorian that death had meant anything to him. He understood that death was a welcomed part of the Mandalorian culture, and not something to be feared or dreaded. To die in battle was an honor, a victory in the eyes of the Manda. Azrael however wasn't grieving the loss of a warrior, he was torn apart by the absence of a Father. He had only just begun to form a family of his own, to understand the depth of understanding and blessings that would come from having a unit of people devoted to each other like the natural born members of just about any race in the Galaxy. His formative years devoid of actual parenting, and soon devoid of actual parents had led to a complete lack of understanding how a family should be. Only in the Mandalorians had he found a place to call home, and a clan to call his family. He had learned a great deal from Gilamar, but he would always want for more, and he already knew that he felt that there was so much more to be taught. Responsibility weighed heavy on the young Mandalorian, and all he could do is look out at the burning blaze of their central star and think upon these things.

A voice, soft and soothing, uttered his name in hushed tones to avert his attention momentarily. Devorah held a special place in his life, one that he wasn't aware would still exist after the events that had taken him away from Mandalore for nearly a year's time. Mostly still a mystery to the vode, his reasons for keeping it close to his chest were honored. The brunette beside him though was quickly unlocking those secrets by her mere presence and comfort. Through the various trials and tribulations that the Field Marshal had endured these last two years, he'd learned quickly that taking things for granted was not an option. The singular day that he met the woman had reinforced the idea of shereshoy, something needed in her life, and something that Azrael had to be reminded of time and again. Despite loss, despite war, and strife and combat, the Mandalorians embraced the lust for life, and the drive to enjoy what these were special in their individual walks. Devorah was one of the paramount people right now, and it showed by the physical gesture as he slid her hand against his gloved one. Digits intertwined with her own, as her silent presence was a balm to his soul.

The continued gaze out of the bay window did not falter. Despite the ship that had been sent out in memorial of Gilamar being already extinguished by the fervent heat of the star, his watchful eyes stayed fast on the epicenter. Now however there was a glare, a translucent reflection of Devorah's face that echoed back, interjecting the soft shade of a mirrored image in the sun's radiance. Perhaps a silent symbol that while he was looking into the fire that would purge and test him, there was still bright spots in his personal Galaxy that he could cherish and open himself up to. For minutes Azrael said nothing, and had no need to speak. She knew why he was staying quiet, she knew well that the man she had come to know over the past few months was someone who internalized and processed events like these with an almost stoic resolve outwardly. It was his inner mind that worked on them, and his emotions (while not evident on his face) were evident to her through the Force. A gentle squeeze of his hand to her own told the tale of appreciation at her company.

"Mesh'la." A single word said in the soft silence of the hangar as it emptied out behind him. Whether the word was meant for the memorial service, or the vision he had of Devorah resting in the bay window, it wasn't clear, but could certainly be applied to both. For long as the ship rotated around the star, he'd stay with her at his side, and watch longingly at the star before the Shev'la changed course, and headed back to Manda'yaim. There was much work to be done, but they stopped and paused for sake of Gilamar, a man who had directly or indirectly changed the life of many. He would not be forgotten.

[member="Devorah Khaladan"]

 

[Anija Betna]

[member="Azrael"] [member="Arrbi Betna"]

Anija too had remained as many others had begun to go their separate ways. There were so many things that she was trying to wrap her thoughts around. So much had happened that it was hard to make sense of it all. She stood a ways back from Azrael and Devorah, paying more attention to the brilliant star beyond the viewport than the other couple. Her fingers found Arrbi again, and she whispered the Remembrance once more. For Gilamar. For Ordo. For several long moments she remained there staring out at the spot where the Vhe'viin Interceptor had vanished before she turned away. Gil had fought and died a warrior. She knew that's what he would have wanted.Now, they moved on. But she wouldn't forget Teta. Or Gil.