Private My Father's House | Dianah

[Malok]

K R A N T​

Tag: Dianah Vrorae

Let the past die, and if you cannot...kill it.

It had been years since the Sith Lord became content with this particular mantra. Once uttered by his alabaster charge, the words denoted a departure from the heritage which had reared him. Mandalore was a desolate waste - and in the eyes of many within his circle, adhering to their ways was the same. A waste. The irony was that, there was once a time when Darth Metus would have given his life for Mandalore. There was a time when he sought to restore their broken lands and bring glory to their name.

Now, the word Mandalorian was ash upon his tongue.

Rather, it was.

In recent history, a primordial shadow had descended into the Sith's life. A woman whose pallid lips uttered whispers of the distant morrow. In that world, the Galaxy knew peace. Order. All through the efforts of his hands. She claimed that the him of tomorrow did not hesitate. That he sought out his enemies before they so much as raised their sabers. That he was always prepared. The pinnacle of might. In her words, it was the death of his Apprentice which had been the catalyst for this evolution.

But. His apprentice lived. And Darth Metus advanced still.

It was hard for him to cling to the mantra that had dominated his days - to let the past die - when a creature of tomorrow was croning in his ear. No. He was perceptive enough to know what the way forward was. If the Galaxy was to know peace - if his enemies were to fall to the sword - then he had to resume the Path he had once abandoned. Home. Family. Those cornerstones in his life had been silent for far too long. To resume, Darth Metus first had to set his house in order. Thus, he set out for Krant.

His vessel, a nameless shuttle, sliced through the heavens along a practiced trajectory. It was almost second nature to steer through the mountainous pass - he did not have to think, for he knew the way so well. Krant had been the world where Darth Metus first laid roots. Where the first of his children knew a proper upbringing. And where his mightiest creations were born. For too long, he had left the Home he had built in disarray. It was fortunate, then, that there was one he could count on who oversaw that which he left behind.

A successor to the legacy of Darth Metus.

His arrival would prompt alerts to chime within the estate that she called home. He made it no secret that he was coming - and thus, when his vessel settled upon the landing pad, it was no surprise that attendant droids were ready to receive him. Garbed in shadow, his face was obscured by a buy'ce as had been the norm so long ago. "Where is she?" The question slithered forth, tinged metallic by his helm. And, at once the droids led the way.

It was only a matter of time before Dianah would hear the knock at the door.​

 

[Darth Miseria]

The evening was unnaturally warm, so much so that Dianah had placed a table out on the balcony to catch what little breeze blew across the surface of Krant. It was a bonus that she could admire the planet’s beauty from up here. The thick rolling forests, the callosal rocky mountains with their picture-perfect snow-covered peaks, the glint of the bright jade sea crashing to the shore on the horizon. Even apart from all that, Krant was her home. She could find beauty in it even on the darkest of days. When the clouds covered the sky and released their downpour, when thunder crashed and the world turned dark, Krant was still comforting. Still safe. Still home.

While the heat was pleasant, Dianah could easily admit to herself that it was distracting. It was the type of heat you couldn’t escape from. One that clung to your skin even in the shade. No matter what she did she couldn’t seem to focus. The sound of her finger tapping incessantly on the table, the muffled hum of the servants going back and forth across the corridors… even her own breathing was proving itself a nuisance. The viceroy of Krant drew her gaze away from the spreadsheet littered with complicated numbers, and instead glanced up at the setting sun. Rolling clouds painted pastel oranges and pinks stretched as far as the eye could see, surrounded in a halo of yellow sunlight.

Just as she toyed with the idea of something cool to drink, a faint black outline of something speeding across the sky caught her eye. When she focused on it, she made out the contrails of a ship. A ship that was vaguely familiar, though she hardly needed to see it to recognise who was aboard, and who was about to make an appearance. Dianah stood from her chair, nearly toppling it over onto the hard tiled floor.

The daughter of Metus reached the front door before the first knock had finished echoing down the corridor. It flung open, allowing the dimming evening light to flood the marble-lined entryway. “Buir…” There was more surprise in her tone than she had expected there to be and not the happy sort of surprised either. Dianah blinked. Once, then twice. Then she shook her head as though it were all a hazy dream that would disappear once the world was unblurred. When she finally came to her senses, she smiled. A wide, pure, genuine smile. “It’s so good to see you.” She dove forward to wrap her arms around him, though the embrace itself was brief.

“What are you doing here?” Her brow rose, but she finally stepped back to allow him in. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you…”

Malok ​

 

[Darth Metus]

K R A N T​

Tag: Darth Miseria

Had it been that long?

When the towering doors finally moved to admit the Master of the House, his gaze immediately fell upon his daughter. It was said that, no matter how much time passed, a parent would always see a youngling in the eyes of their child. And in this instant, the Sith knew no different. Though the road which finally led him home had been caked in ash and blood, the end result was someone he cared deeply for. She, however, paused. Her expression was...confused...if the dim light was any indication.

By the moment died amidst the shaking of her head.

He found her arms around his neck in an embrace and his arms encircled her. He leaned back, taking her feet off the floor and squeezing all the while. As a child, she had loved bear hugs such as these - he wondered if that held true for the present. When at last her feet were returned to the floor, Darth Metus stepped forward. The palace, much like all of Krant, was a reflection of the one at the helm. And thus, the world and their family home had known a nurturing touch. In the Sith's youth, the space would not have brimmed with such...life.

It was refreshing to know that the future held such promise.

But of course, a question formed and fell from Dianah's lips. An obvious one at that. When last Darth Metus and Dianah saw one another, in a non-work setting, the Jen'ari Empire yet breathed. So why was it that he was here? Why now? "To set our House in order." Though his words carried tremendous weight, they were devoid of their usual edge. Instead, they were uttered as he lowered himself into the nearest seat. A sigh escaped his lips as he paused, reaching up to remove the faceplate from his features.

"Do you remember why we ceased being Mando'ade?​