[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 Thirty-One: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘. word count; 6.4k.
Peering down, your gaze met with the Child's wide, concerned eyes. Warmth spread throughout your chest upon seeing his shaken expression, ears flattened against the sides of his round face, a sympathy growing for the terrified baby. Pulling him away from you, a reassuring smile stretched on your lips. "It's okay," you whispered, hoping that would somewhat ease him down. His pointy ears lifted slightly, your gentle voice soothing him into calming down, his claws slowly releasing his hold on your shirt. Then still holding onto him, you slid out of the tight compartment.
A scathing, bitter gust of frozen wind struck you, permeating straight through your clothes. The borrowed long-sleeved shirt didn't impede the harsh air from reaching your skin, goosebumps littering your entire body and already provoking a slight tremble that would soon intensify the more time you spent under these rigorous temperatures. Instinctively, you clutched the baby closer to you to sustain each other's warmness. Gaze wandering around the utterly demolished hull, you noted the devastating hole blown straight through the side of the Razor Crest, allowing the numbing breeze and an endless amount of snowflakes inside, piling up on the floor. Literally everything was in a complete disarray, objects tossed around and in places they don't even belong. Sighing through your nose, you carefully set the Child down on the floor before beginning to search for anything similar to a tarp to cover the gap.
Settling for a random blanket sprawled across the ground, you quickly grabbed that and probed through the toolbox conveniently laying in the corner. The apparatuses happened to be dispersed all around the ship due to the previous commotion, though the power screwdriver you needed was fortunately in sight. Snatching that, you worked on nailing the dull fabric around the void in the wall. As you did, heavy footsteps were heard descending the ladder from the cockpit, a frustrated damn it escaping the Mandalorian's lips. Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Din observe the condition the gunship was in. Damn it indeed, you wanted to say, although the unmistakable tension between you two prevented you from opening your mouth. Instead, you returned to drilling the final screw into the wall.
Stepping back, being somewhat satisfied with your work, a croak echoed through the Crest; the Frog Lady evidently concerned over her offspring, but still unsure whether she should leave the safety of the cockpit. Spinning around, you returned the tool to its box and probed around the disorganized ship for a specific glowing canister. Din seeming to pick up on the urgency of the situation as well, recognizing the eggs could possibly die in this extreme climate; so, he sought out for the container alongside you. A few minutes were spent in complete silence—you not daring to look him straight in the visor, him not daring to look you straight in the eyes. Occasionally brushing past each other, you attempted to keep the quietness whilst you searched around, no matter how painstakingly awkward it all was. You simply weren't certain what to say, or if you should even talk and he was likely pondering over the exact thoughts as you.
