[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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Twenty-Five: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖑. word count; 4.7k
Tatooine...wasn't quite the planet Din Djarin wished to arrive on.
But, much to his dismay, this was irrevocably imperative. According to Gor Koresh, a city located on this very desolated planet—Mos Pelgo—was where a Mandalorian currently resided. Supposedly. Whether the Abyssinian's resources were factual or even up-to-date was currently unknown, but there was no harm in investigating the place. Any clue as to where a Jedi could possibly be found would definitely be welcomed. If there truly were a Mandalorian roaming liberally throughout this sandy world, then they could likely lead Din to several coverts obscured and scattered around the entire galaxy—and, one of them could very well guide him to the Jedi he urgently sought out for.
So, as he lowered the rumbling Razor Crest into the familiar hangar owned by Peli Motto, he attempted to distract his still disheveled, jumbled-up mind from... that. Because, though this planet was beginning to recover particular memories to his brain, he was long over all of it. (Which was a lie, of course. Or else distracting his mind would be unnecessary.)
Soon enough, the gunship was swiftly switched off. Its insistent rev of the engines below ceased, constant vibration dying out, continuously blinking lights of the control panel, all promptly vanishing altogether. The green, long-eared baby (who'd grown quite a bit these past few months) prattled curiously as Din stood from his position in the pilot's seat, effortlessly scooping the kid up from the passenger chair and into one arm. As they retreated into the hull, Din commanded the Crest's ramp to lower utilizing the vambrace encasing his wrist, connected to the ship's system. While Din awaited the ramp to make contact with the ground, his chest heaved a deep, conspicuous sigh. He recognized completely well the tendencies of this planet—perpetual threats, danger, and hazards cloaking themselves and waiting to strike their victims. It seemed as if each time he returned, troubles and difficulties would often ensue and delay whatever plan he originally kept in mind. Hopefully, that wouldn't be the case today—his sole purpose here was to simply meet with this rumored Mandalorian, exchange the necessary information, and leave. But considering this was Tatooine, he highly doubted things would go as smoothly as he wished.
"Calican may be dead, but you're sticking with me this time," Din declared, sparing a quick glance towards the infant in his one arm. The Child merely perked his ears up, before instead directing his attention forward when Din finally tread off the ramp, footsteps echoing through the familiar hangar.
As soon as he'd stepped out into the open area, he was met with two things—one: sticky, blazing, exasperating hotness that accompanied the binary suns hanging over the sky, and two: a group of rusty, beige-colored, two-legged repair droids immediately snatching their toolboxes and gathering specific objects, before hurrying towards the Mandalorian and his battered-up gunship. The dusty droids chattered between each other, evidently eager and well-prepared to commence the designated repairs, until—
