Through the Gates of Hell

[Lina Djo]

Mia dropped another log onto the campfire that was running the risk of dropping low. It wasn't a necessity, more of a comfort, a reminder of how life had once been simple. There was another reminder of that in the form of a man sat next to her, [member="Isley Verd"] and friend from old times, a brother in arms and one of the few remaining people she could trust...dared to trust. He'd managed to coax her out of her little hut on the edge of Rekali's clan village, dragging her on a hunting trip into the rough terrain of the Singing Mountain.

She suspected he had other reasons for getting her away from everyone else, but the trip had been fun nonetheless. The remains of a stew sat cooling by the edge of a fire and they were at least a third way through their first skin of black ale and for the first time in longer than she could remember, Mia was relaxed. She watched the rise and fall of Shadow's body as he lay so close to the fire, it was a wonder he wasn't burning, every now and then a paw would twitch as he dreamt.

"Alright," she said, her voice cutting through the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into "I admit it, this was a good idea. You can add it to the incredibly short list of 'smart things Isley has done'." She handed him the skin back.

 

[Darth Metus]

Although he had chocked it up to being a spur-of-the-moment sort of idea, the Witch King had a method to his madness. The appearance of his former "liege" during the starport raid had taken him by surprise. Even more still, her current status sent his expectations flying out the window. It was sad to admit, but Isley's own path had caused him to become woefully ignorant about the fates of many he cared about; and indeed he cared about [member="Mia Monroe"]. She was someone he looked up to, to say the very least. So, when he had learned that the former Mand'alor shared the title of Dar'manda with him...well...suffice it to say he wanted to know what the kark happened.

So, he suggested a benign getaway. Something that would take them well outside of the Witchmaster's budding ranks and, most importantly, liberate them from prying ears. Thus did they make sport of hunting for a bit, chowing down on said spoils, and ultimately relaxing in front of a campfire. Silence ruled the air for the most part, until Mia passed the ale skin. Isley grinned and gladly accepted it, taking a hearty swig.

"What can I say? With age comes decent ideas." he began. Then came the reason they were out there. "I thought that it would be a nice change of pace, y'know? Get some fresh air, maybe catch up a little. It's been so long since Mon Calamari." He paused, punctuating his statement with another swig. "Speaking of...Well...what happened? We're both...soulless. How did we get here?"

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia's eyes darkened and she shot Isley a disapproving look. "We are not soulless." She replied sharply "There is no Manda, it is a lie they tell us so we will throw ourselves on our enemies swords without second thought. I might have considered lapping it up again after everything that happened, but I couldn't forgive them for what they did to Ordo."

She remembered it like it was yesterday, remembered how they had so strongly believed it was the right thing to do. He was punished for crimes he did not commit. Punished for being possessed. It felt like he died, when they ripped the force away from him. All because they were afraid he might become possessed again. Well, such a fear could be transferred to all force users. A long war with the sith had blinded the mandalorians with paranoia.

"We arrived here through a line of choices. You chose power over family, and I chose intelligence over sheer stupidity." She paused, realisation dawning on her. "Oh for karks sake," she exclaimed suddenly "you want to go back, don't you?"

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"You know what I mean." he said, his tone ever so slightly somber. The Dar'manda was not referring to the spiritual connotation, but rather the societal context. Isley could not speak as to the beliefs of the former Mand'alor, but the truth of the matter was being Dar'manda meant more than consequences in the supposed afterlife. It meant being looked at funny in the world of the living: in the world of the Mandalorians, specifically.

Isley did not comment on the fate of Ordo. He had been too wrapped up in his own prison...too far away from Manda'yaim...to have witnessed the goings-on firsthand. Yet he had heard whispers about what had befallen the man. Possession. Severance. A nasty ordeal born of paranoia. A nasty ordeal born of years upon years of fighting a singular enemy.

"I want to fix things." he admittedly.

"The current generation points to Azrael as the one who drove things into the ground. Ask anyone and they'll place Wayland's fall upon his shoulders. But the Mandalorian problem goes deeper than that. They've...They're blind, Mia. They aren't the same people who scouted Taris alongside us. They damn sure aren't the same people who rallied to your banner either."

He paused, taking a sip.

"I can bring change to Mandalore. I know I can. For kark's sake, I damn near ran the Southern Systems decades back, I think I can handle fixing my people. Our people. Mia, that's who they are; no matter how karked up they've become. And frankly, the woman I would follow to the Netherworld and back: Mand'alor the Liberator...that woman, deep down, knows I'm right."

At that point, the ale was extended to her and Isley placed his gaze upon the embers.

"You've changed. And I doubt Ordo's ordeal was the sole thing responsible..."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

"You're heading into dangerous territory, Isley." She warned him, accepting the skin and taking a swig. Yes, she had changed. That was why she was here wasn't it? That was why she had come to Dathomir, to find herself again. To remember what it was like to care, to believe in something more, to have passion for a cause. She lapsed into silence, sipping occasionally from the flask as she fought an internal battle.

"They are more than blind. They are deaf, they will not listen to reason. They are built for battle, our...their culture is defined by our ability to fight. But they were not made for the unrelenting beatings that have fallen upon them. Civil war has erupted, clan leaders have vanished, along with Azrael. There is nothing left to change."

There was a bitterness in her voice, she could taste in in her mouth. She blew out a heavy sigh. "The Liberator died on Coruscant, at the hands of Mierin. The woman you want to see, the one you would follow into the Netherworld doesn't exist anymore." She paused before continuing, drawing her eyes away from the flame to look at Isley. "I fought my way back to the world of the living because I believed I could save Ordo. By the time I got back, he'd been shot in the back of the head by a clone of me. A clone he created out of guilt for his own failure to prevent my death. I failed to get to him at Coruscant, when the fool chose to face the Dark Lord alone, I failed to return in time to save him. So I went home, I tried to reason with our people, tried to make them understand that the more we threw ourselves at the sith, the more we stood to lose. I failed. Where you see a woman you can follow into death, I see only a catalogue of failed efforts. So yes, ori'vod, I have changed."

If he believed that he could bring change to the mandalorians, she welcomed him to try, but she would play no part in it.

[member="Isley Verd"]