[SEASON ONE, COMPLETE]
❛There's a word for us in Mando'a... 𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖗. Temporary ally. That's what we've been since the beginning... right?❜
• A bounty hunter encounters an enemy she's stumbled upon one too many times, though this particularly...
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Chapter Fourteen: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊. word count; 4.4k
The arid and dusty streets of Mos Eisley were noiseless and desolate—merely the sound of wind blowing on the dirt encircling the air with each passing breeze, and a couple bystanders strolling by visible. Though the quietude of this city did not calm the beskar-clad Mandalorian as he sauntered through the desolate planet of Tatooine. Instead, it caused him further unease, knowing completely well of the dangers lurking around every corner of this barren place he wished to escape as soon as possible. But he knew he had to continue in search of some sort of way to obtain credits and get off this dust-ball of a planet, or else unwanted trouble was bound to find him and his small crew.
Tatooine was effectively one of the hottest planets he'd landed on. Beads of sweat slid down his forehead from underneath the helm, and the fact that he couldn't even wipe it off made it worse. Not to mention the layers of clothing and armor concealing every inch of his skin, causing him to overheat easily in these temperatures. But he wouldn't complain. He learned not to in past. Eventually, he knew he'd get used to the sizzling climate of Tatooine, just as he had done the countless occasions he visited.
His gloved hand remained on his holster out of pure instinct, knowing that he could be recognized in these parts of the galaxy. Word travels fast, just as it had done with you back on Corellia. So he wouldn't let his guard down whatsoever as he traveled through the streets, seeking a certain cantina he stopped by cycles ago when he was in the Guild with the same objective he had now — acquire a bounty and earn his well-deserved credits.
He offered a quick glance towards a bunch of bloodied, beat-up Stormtrooper helmets impaled by a stick dug into the sand — a reminder of how terrible this planet is. The Mandalorian paid no attention to them, instead continuing down the sandy streets. Now the cantina was in sight up ahead, the grimy entrance completely familiar to him now that he caught a glimpse of it.
Upon entering, he glanced around for a brief moment to examine his surroundings. Droids whirred around, aliens chattered towards each other, people sitting back and taking a swig of a few drinks. Typical cantina. Plenty of them were extra aware of Din's presence, their eyes trained on him too long for his comfort. As if they recognized him — or, tried to. In this moment he was glad to have left you back at the landing bay with the kid, or else that would've brought unnecessary attentiveness towards them. They were bound to recognize the Mandalorian and the Jedi; bounty hunters gone rogue against the Guild to protect an innocent baby from the Imperials.
Din tread towards the empty bar towards a service droid. As much as he despised these mechanical beings, this one in particular could provide him the help and directions necessary. With the droid's attention now on him, he leaned onto the counter before offering it a quick greeting and cutting right to the point. "I'm a hunter. I'm looking for some work."
