[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 Forty: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖞. word count; 3.9k
You were told to hide. Where, exactly, you didn't know. How were you supposed to know? That was they ever told you—hide—and, naturally, you elected your bedroom. It was the safest place you recognized. Then, you rushed yourself into your small closet—because, again, what could be safer than here? What could possibly find you in here, hidden between a plethora of clothes and shoes that concealed you from anyone's sight? Nothing could. Now all you had to do was wait for your parents to return and ensure it was alright to leave the enclosed space.
You were fine. Not scared. There was no reason to be frightened, because this was just a game your parents were playing with you. They did sound urgent and none of this actually made sense to you, but you were almost entirely sure they were simply playing a trick on you.
Everything was okay until a faint clattering reached your ears, followed by your parents' voices. Now it was getting strange. Urgent footsteps, shooting, punches thrown, fighting, fighting, fighting was all you heard—furniture being shoved around and thrown, objects breaking. Then there was one specific blaster that sounded once... twice. Never again. The noises stopped and there was a silence. No more commotion. No more fighting. Now, there were quiet footsteps. Gentle and discreet. Your bedroom door sliding open.
You considered calling out to see if it were one of your parents. But you honestly weren't even sure. If it were them, then this was a terrible trick they set you up in—but you still hoped it was them. Because what if it wasn't? What if someone broke in? What if they weren't capable of fending for themselves? When you came to that conclusion, you covered your eyes and held your breath for as long as you possibly could. Because if you couldn't hear yourself, they wouldn't hear you either—and if you couldn't see yourself or anything surrounding you, then they wouldn't see you either, right? You're fine. You'll be fine. That's what repeated through your brain, over and over again. You'll be fine, and help will come. Help has to come.
The closet opened. A flinch jerks your body. Your eyes stay glued shut. You swore you'd keep your eyes closed—they couldn't see you if you did... They couldn't. But you peeked. You stole what was supposed to be an insignificant glance—there was a flash of glowing scarlet eyes and a blue complexion—but you had immediately looked away again. He'd seen you. Obviously, that was not your mother nor your father, and he had seen you.
You could not recognize him, though.
Resounding crackles sounded throughout your room. Again, you flinched. This time, though, you couldn't help lifting your eyes, observing the incandescent blades clashing against red streaks of bolts. There wasn't much visible, considering you had slightly slid the door to the point that you could only peep through a slight space between it and the wall. So all you had perceived from the red-eyed person was... nothing, really. There had been a moment of fighting, but ultimately he ended up escaping, leaving you alone with these three fighters you don't even know either.
