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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Alora didn't think he would come back for them. It was a pleasant surprise.
Even just a few days after escaping Nevarro and Imperial clutches, Alora still feels the effects of their experiments and tests, her movements sluggish and less fluid than she would like given that they've found a planet to hide on. Luckily, they've been in flight, and Mando had graciously allowed her time to process instead of asking questions.
She really didn't think he would come back.
Landing on Sorgan, Alora's eyes scan the surrounding forest. It had been years since she saw so many trees. The last time must have been on Endor, though the trees are different.
The Child, who had woken this morning and chosen mischief, sits on her lap. As he coos, reaching forward, Mando turns and says, "Now, listen, I'm gonna go out there, and I'm gonna look around. It shouldn't take too long. Don't touch anything. I'll find us some lodging and come back for you. You," he points at them both. "Stay right here. You stay. Don't move, understand?"
Alora grins. Maybe the Child had chosen correctly.
"Great," Mando says uneasily before leaving the cockpit.
The Child whines, reaching for the closed door. With a roll of her eyes, Alora takes the blanket Mando had provided for her when she had fallen asleep and fastens the Child close to her chest. With the Child secure, she walks out of the cockpit and reaches Mando by the time the ship's hull opens completely.
His helmet tilts before he looks back at her. She grins once more, exposing her teeth.
"Oh, what the hell," he mutters. "Come on then. Interesting contraption you've got."
Alora looks down at the make-shift gurney, patting the Child's head.
"Got your weapons?"
As she looks up at him, she slips two daggers in her hands, spinning them in the sunlight.
"Good."
The trio makes their way into one of the smallest towns Alora has ever seen, instantly heading for the tavern. Most conversations pause when they walk in: the Mandalorian with a full suit of beskar, a woman, and a green child are not a common sight.
Alora gently takes the Child's hand when she senses his fear. So many things must be overwhelming to the small creature, especially the smells of food she can almost taste. He grips her finger tightly, his ears pressed to his head.
As Alora takes a seat at one of the only unoccupied tables, she sets the Child down in his own chair while Mando glances around. What he should notice that Alora had the moment they walked in is the woman in the corner with war tattoos. Those tattoos are familiar—a welcome feeling after being stranded in Imperial clutches by the very man before her.
