Marching Far Away [Mando and Friends]

[Lina Djo]

It took some time for Mia to answer the man who'd come to speak to her. Her eyes watched the fighter rise and depart, her mind elsewhere. Busy with questions, and decisions that needed to be made. Giliamar was dead. Ordo was presumed dead and all the reasons she came back from the dead were beginning to blur, to smudge across her mind until they made no sense.

"He was Mand'alor." she replied finally. "Everyone knew him."

But I woke him from his slumber so he could die at Ordo's hand.

[member="Mordecai Tal'kyr"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He frowned, unsatisfied with her answer. It seemed a last second thought, manufactured and forced out without any sort of sincerity behind them. But her words were true. Everyone knew of Gilamar Skirata. He had been Mand'alor since the end of the war with the Sith Empire.

"Do you believe in the Manda," he paused as if receiving a message. They both shared a bond to that place, the afterlife. He wondered if she could see in him what he could see in her. The Manda left its mark on those that crossed and returned, and though he was not attuned to the Force, he could sense it, smell it.

"Why did you come back?" The question was vague enough so that if others heard it would sound like a simple question, but if he was right on his hunch...Well, she wasn't an idiot.
[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia frowned at his first question, though still did not look at him.

Chaos and Manda, do not exist. All life loses identity and returns to the Force.

She blew a heavy sigh out of her nose and cursed Velok silently. The manda was just another way of looking at the force.

"Yes." she answered, again, the response was without emotion.

The he asked another question, and Mia blinked. Slowly she turned her gaze upon him, a dangerous light glinting behind her eyes. It was a look that said he was close to stepping across the mark. She regarded him, face impassive, eyes glittering as she drank in every detail she could both with her eyes and the force.

"I wasn't ready." she replied.

[member="Mordecai Tal'kyr"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Her answer brought a crooked, malicious smirk to the young man's face. A mischievous light danced behind his hazel eyes as he regarded her own.
"Apparently, neither was he," the man said. A lie of course, but this was a test. He needed to know if they could tell the difference. A part of him wanted to be his own man, out of the shadow he knew his "Mother" kept him in, the shadow of The Architect.

With that, he broke away from the conversation and began to walk away from the new and improved Monroe.
[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Strider was in the far distance watching the funeral procession for he did not have the tolerance to be surrounded by fellow mourners. This day was surreal to him even for a veteran warrior who had been to hundreds of funerals. This loss was hard to swallow but his brother went out with his boots on. He died a warriors death bathed in the glory of battle, seemed to be a better death then what Strider was looking at if he kept going the way he was. Either die of old age degraded by a diaper or sooner with an overdose on Stri'agra trying to keep up with the young ladies.

The fighter blinked from sight and a tear rolled down the old warrior's cheek. "Ret'urcye mhi Vod!" Garon would whisper to the skies as his old friend, brother at arms and leader made his final journey. He raised his flask in a honorable but silent cheer before taking a long swig. Wiping his lips he would look up once again in a failed attempt to see if he could see the fighter that was way beyond his aged eyes. "Till we meet again"