Compared to most days, today was a rather quiet one for Gel.
Usually, Gel was inundated with requests from his Mandalorian brothers and sisters: requests to repair their
Beskar'gam, requests to forge them new weapons and equipment, even requests to train them in melee combat, given Gel's reputation as a competent fighter. His day would generally be spent with him working in his forge, trying to fulfill as many of these requests as he could, before the next inevitable wave of requests came his way.
Today, however, Gel had no such requests, and for the first time in a long time, he found that he had a moment of time to himself. Not wanting to waste it, Gel had decided to use the opportunity to do some maintenance of his own on his own armor, especially his
Mandalorian Recon Helmet. It had been dented by
SL-0182
the last time Gel had fought them, though the helmet had very much done its job and saved his life from their silenced blaster bolts. Still, now that he was safe aboard the
Bureenaar'gaam, it would be irresponsible of him not to repair the helmet since he now had a chance to do so. Gel started by hammering away at the dent as he attempted to shape the metal back into it's original position, careful not to strike with too much or too little force.
In truth, he didn't really mind being busy, since it helped to keep his mind off things, namely his time spent enslaved to the Sith and the though of many of his creations being used by his most hated enemies. Gel wondered if he could ever truly forgive himself like everyone else already had. His brothers and sisters had borne him no ill will for his past, and had embraced him with open arms. If they could do it, why couldn't he? Why couldn't he take the step and forgive himself like they had? What the hell was wrong with him?
As Gel continued to work, he hoped
someone might come in an interrupt him. At least then he wouldn't be all alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company...