[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 Seventeen: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑. word count; 7.6k
"You... alright?"
Your heart vividly throbbed and thumped within your chest as you stared with wide eyes into the unreadable visor mere inches away from your face. With how damn close he was, you managed to perceive the distorted mirroring of your staggered expression in the reflection of his dark visor. In fact, you could nearly detect the faint outline of his eyes staring right back at you. You couldn't help but realize this had occurred to you twice in a single day — having his body thrown over your own, weight pushing you against the floor. Somewhat awkward but, strangely enough, also... pleasant?
Gulping, you swiftly cleared your throat, eyes nervously darting everywhere but the gaze of the Mandalorian. "Yeah... yeah, I'm good."
Not really...
He lifted himself from above you, allowing you to rise upon your feet as well. With each wrong movement, the piercing pain resonating through your entire arm drastically increased, further aggravating the injury. Peering towards your lacerated shoulder, caught sight of the sizeable wound and winced at the terrible image. The split skin stretched all the way from your upper arm, down until it reached right above your elbow. Damn Twi'lek sliced more than you originally thought. Warm, gooey red liquid seeped through the softer fabric of the leather jacket you attired. With a frustrated sigh, you shook your head and shifted your attention towards Din instead. "Why am I always targeted by people with knives?"
Din stepped forward, gently grasping your forearm to inspect the laceration. Grunting at the sudden motion, you pull your arm back to your side. "No, I'll take care of this later. Right now we need to get ourselves out of here and quick."
With your attention shifting towards the sealed-closed gate of the cell, you were on the verge of taking a pace forward until a familiar gloved hand held you back, compelling you to remain in place. Eyes flickering back towards the Mandalorian who gripped onto your good arm, you cocked an eyebrow at him in an expectant manner.
"Wait."
"Din—"
"We'll work on the cut first, before it gets ugly. Then we find a way out."
"But the Child—"
"I said, we'll handle that later."
A defeated sigh escaped your lips upon hearing the authoritative tone lacing his voice. It was utterly evident he wasn't going to allow you to move a single muscle until you were tended to. Better to listen to his orders than waste anymore time protesting when he wasn't going go back down anytime soon.
