Promises are made to be broken. Deals are made to be kept.
[The Mandalorian Season 1-2]
I do not own the Mandalorian or any of the Star Wars Universe characters/settings. I own Alora and her unique story.
Prequel to Promises and Deals --> Truth...
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She must have fallen asleep. She didn't remember falling asleep.
When she wakes, she finds herself curled around the Child's small cradle on a slab of metal behind the Mandalorian. Jawa shouts echo in her ears. Instead of moving, she simply lets one of her hands dangle into the cradle and readjusts, her eyes still closed shut. She has a sneaking suspicion that the Mandalorian knows she's awake.
"They really don't like you for some reason," the Ugnaught says.
"Well, I did disintegrate a few of them."
Ugh, that robotic voice is starting to get on her nerves.
"You need to drop your rifle."
Now, Alora might be getting a bit worried. She cracks an eyelid open to glance at the Mandalorian's back. If she wanted to, she could reach out and grab his blaster easily, maybe even snag the weapons he took from her.
"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion."
"Then you are not getting your parts back."
Alora sits up loud enough for the Mandalorian to look back. She knows he is watching her closely as she surveys the chattering Jawas and their ship, watching them scatter and regroup around them.
"Fine," he sighs, setting his rifle down. "Don't touch it," he warns.
She holds her hands up mockingly before pointing to the blaster at his hip.
"And the blaster."
A laugh bubbles in her chest, hoping that the Mandalorian would put up a fight.
Unfortunately, he simply puts the blaster down and goes after the Ugnaught to trade with the raiders. Alora watches them closely, swinging her legs over the vehicle and swinging them side to side before taking the Child and placing him in her lap. He too watches the Mandalorian closely, and she can't help but wonder why.
She gasps when fire erupts from the Mandalorian's arm. That is a surprise; she didn't know he has a flamethrower attached to him. Good to know. With a sneer and a shake of her head, she bounces the restless Child on her knee, eliciting a sharp giggle from him.
That is until two Jawa approach curiously. She snarls, whipping the Child back, her fingers tingling at her sides, ready for blood.
"Get away from them!" The Mandalorian shouts.
Something in Alora's blood stirs at the tone. She is usually the one with that spitting, horrid voice. The one that terrifies any normal creature from here to the outer rim. The tone that implies care.
Then again, he might just want his bounties kept safe.
Before long, the Jawas start to chant, never-ending and growing in volume. Alora crinkles her face when they start to move to the beat of the chant: "The egg! The egg! The egg!" The whole Jawa tribe guides them through the valley, escorting Alora and the Child along with the Mandalorian and the Ugnaught onto their vehicle. Alora may be used to cramped spaces, but this is a bit much; she keeps a tight hand on the rim of the Child's cradle.
