for orren

[theheartofwar]

Dantooine wasn't what he thought it would be.

First of all, it was boring. Which he had expected for a world that was widely considered to be a dirtball even before he knew it housed a Jedi enclave, which made it worse. Pretty fields, he'll give it that, but he couldn't stop thinking in the back of his head about how well those golden hills would take to blazing down.

Truth be told, he couldn't explain why he was sticking around, either. He'd stayed in the Ebon Hawk mostly, when he wasn't at Khaar's side being dragged around to investigate the dregs of his people or missing droids or whatever - they'd been offered quarters in the compound, but Canderous had very little intention of hanging too closely around those sanctimonious weaklings even if she had wanted to, for no good reason he could see.

Also, it seemed like Mandalorians weren't particularly welcome around these parts. Hardly a surprise, and not usually something he gave a single damn about. He wandered about in the vague hopes of provoking a fight, his clan Ordo tattoo on pointed display, but nobody took him up on it. Not any of the Jedi, and not any of the farmers. Not much around here in actual entertainment, unless you counted endless trips to the fields to take potshots at the kath hounds. Or talking weaponry with that enthusiastic Rodian.

Still, there were some interesting people on this planet. And he'd found some booze stashed in the Ebon Hawk, just like he'd expected. The good stuff, too. Davik's personal stash, that he took great pleasure in drinking. He'd left half the bottle on the table - Mission would probably find it, but he was done with it - stretched, and headed off to the refresher.

But one routine that never let him down was maintaining his repeating blaster. Only when he's completely sure he's sober does he deposit his weapon onto the workbench - only a fool who doesn't care for their fingers handles their weapons drunk - still armed to the teeth, more so than usual, even, and starts disassembling it.

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[theheartofwar]

Canderous is disappointed. He'd been expecting more, maybe, from the infamous Jedi who plagued his people during the war, but it seems that this conversation has taken the same turn that it always seems to do with other people. But he lets him go, with the philosophical outlook that they'll be seeing a lot of each other soon anyway, if Orren was genuine about accompanying them.

"Your loss," he calls out after him, casual as anything. "I didn't take you of all people for a coward, Organa, but it seems I was mistaken. You should get along with Carth, with the way you talk about wishing one day to lay down your weapons."

Canderous shakes his head in bemusement, and turns back to maintenance on his heavy repeater. That is, if he doesn't turn around and immediately argue down Canderous on his way back out. Likely not, but it's not an unwelcome thought. Either way, if Orren exits after this, he'll note if Orren takes the path through the Hanger, or deliberately go around him.

[orren]

You may just be getting your wish, Canderous, because Orren does in fact stop and some of that anger and distaste has finally broken through his careful composure.

"If valuing life enough that you don't enjoy taking it is your definition of cowardice, I'm not sure you understand the word." Orren's voice is calm and collected, but there's a steel there that wasn't present a moment ago.

[theheartofwar]

Good. Now there was that fire he was looking for. A hint of fire and steel breaking out of a crack behind that calm Jedi facade, and Canderous grins horribly.

"Of course I understand the value of life," he says as he delves back into the workings of his gun, like it's an obvious fact. "To push yourself to the limits, to stare down death and return from it - that is where the value lies. That is why we put ourselves against the test of battle, emerging stronger for it. A life not spent fighting, not challenging yourself, is a life wasted. A life that refuses to fight is one that doesn't deserve it at all."

[orren]

A grin that finds its way under his skin remarkably easily considering old wounds and deeply-held convictions. It doesn't bite sharply enough to break through is composure, but it frays at his nerves.

"We live in an unfathomably wide galaxy, Canderous." Orren says, turning back to face the other man. "If combat's the only thing you've found in it that challenges and fulfills you, you lead a shockingly empty life."

Stated as though it were an equally obvious fact, but there's no hiding the disdain Orren has for every single syllable that Canderous has just uttered regardless of how much venom-tipped politeness it's delivered with.

[theheartofwar]

"Brr. Is it getting a little chilly in here, or what?" Canderous mocks, glancing at the upper corners of the hangar. He's very obviously not cold, nor is he chilled by Master Organa's tone. "It's not the first time I've heard that sentiment, and it won't be the last. Either way, I know what I know, and I know what we Mandalorians know that you Jedi and Republics don't. I'll tell you what a real empty life is - I've been living it for two years. A life devoid of real combat. Real challenges."

Canderous finishes with one component, and rests his hands on the workbench. "My life will never mean as much as it did, until Revan scattered us. It was a glorious ending on Malachor V."

Even if he's finding now, that it might have cost too much in the end.

[orren]

"Glorious isn't the word I'd use."

He's not sure he could boil it all down to a single word, even now that he's had years to try to come to grips with what'd happened. It's a complicated, snarled tangle of emotions - none of them positive - and all he can do whenever he thinks back to it is wish that it could have ended some other way. Any other way.

They agree on one thing, though, he supposes. That it cost far, far too much.

For a brief second, before he catches himself dwelling on it, Orren seems ... less, than he did a moment before. He looks tired. Then the moment passes and the Jedi Master returns.

"I can't see what lies ahead of us, but you won't have any shortages of 'challenges' to overcome." Orren says, turning back towards the cargo hold.

"But if Malachor truly was the end, and you can't go back to the way that things were, ... eventually you'll need to find something new."

Orren doesn't say anything more as he walks away, but there's an unspoken sentiment lingering behind him.

You'll need to find something new, otherwise, that emptiness will find you again.

And again.

And again.