[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Boo Heavenshield"] | [member="Tmoxin Temi"]
A faint explosion heralded their arrival at Camp Dauntless.
Over the course of his lifetime, Darth Metus had grown accustomed to preparing for a number of threats. He planned for what the future would hold - whether it be foreign invasion or domestic betrayal. He hoped for the best, but was always ready for the worst. However. Never in his wildest dreams did the Sith fathom a threat from the past. Yet as his feet crunched down upon the soil of Cularin, he found himself staring down a sight he had not witnessed in decades. Gold filled his sulfuric gaze as an armored male raised his arm in defiance. The iconic T-Visor obscured the Mandalorian's features - but his height and build betrayed his age and inexperience.
Darth Metus
felt who the warrior was, long before seeing underneath the helm. And to add credence to his suspicion, the sigil of Clan Verd - a ram's skull - was inscribed upon the Mandalorian's right shoulder. Before the Sith now stood a boy who had not yet learned the ways of the Force. A boy who had not known the sting of Death or the joy of Fatherhood. A boy who knew nothing of leadership or submission. Before Darth Metus was his life before the Darkness: a child by the name of Isley Verd.
Their initial moments were explosive to say the least. Isley let fly a wrist rocket at point blank range and the resulting concussive force was enough to unseat the surprised Darth Metus. But that was the sole victory his younger self would have this day - for the Sith knew every trick the boy had up his sleeve. It took some doing, but the Mandalorian was quickly disarmed and made to sit upon the ground.
"Who are you? Where am I? Give me back my blaster, schutta!"
"I'll give it back when you calm the kark down and listen."
A few minutes later and the pair sauntered into Camp Dauntless without further issue. And, though the Sith forced a calm expression upon his face, his mind was racing a mile a minute. Though Death was a factor of life he had bested once before, Time was an entirely different beast. The Sith had not a clue about how to remedy this particular dilemma, and opted instead to keep his younger self safe for the time being. Shortly after their arrival, however, a welcome voice broke the fervor of his thoughts. He
felt a cocktail of stress and frustration emanating from his Apprentice before her form graced his eyes.
And though a mountain laid before them, he knew they'd conquer it like all the others. Reaching, the Sith patted his younger self on the back to urge him forward quicker until they came upon the tent. Darth Metus parted his lips to speak, but found himself cut off.
You see, where the Sith found relief in the presence of his Apprentice, the Mandalorian saw
Heaven. The boy was scarcely ten years of age, but he knew an angel when he saw one. Quickly, he fumbled to remove his helm and hung it upon his belt - revealing a mass of loose curls, deep brown eyes, and a toothy grin to the world.
"Ner'vod." he began in a whisper - punctuating his words by knudging Metus' leg with his elbow.
"Who. Is. She?"
"That is my apprentice, Srina."
"...You mean, when I get big, I can be around her?"
"All day, everyday."
"I can't wait to grow up!"
The cynic in the Sith cringed at the sheer innocence. If only that boy knew the Hell that awaited him in the future. The pain. The loss. The death. Darth Metus lightly shook his head and motioned a thumb at the tent.
"Go sit down somewhere and wait for me to get you, got it?"
"B-But." came the start of a protest.
"Now, or I'll tell Oron where you hide your snacks."
If there was one thing Isley couldn't risk, it was his baby brother devouring all his hard earned goodies. So, the armored boy relented and scooted past the two Boos and into the tent. And there, he met a much younger and much feistier version of Heaven. With eyes gleaming and smile wide, he bounded over to Rin and offered his hand.
"Su'cuy! I'm Isley!"
