TWENTY. a glittering sapphire sky! ｡･:*:･ﾟ✧｡･:*:･ﾟ
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Shafts of burnt golden light dust the ground outside as the door slides open before them, whirring as it disappears into the colorless wall. Zoya tucks her long, dark bangs behind her ears; the strands have grown out enough now that they fall past her eyes, which turns trying to do anything into a cumbersome task.
Before her, the Mandalorian ducks out of the passageway and begins to walk confidently out into the streets of Mos Eisley, leaving bay three-five behind, but Zoya catches at his cloak, pulling him back so he doesn't walk as fast and focused.
"What is it?" he asks, looking down at her with something close to concern twisting his mouth as they continue forward, slower this time.
"Just slow down a bit, yeah? Not everything has to be so fast-paced."
Mando scrunches his nose a little behind the visor at the comment. "There's nothing really to see here."
"For you, maybe," Zoya tells him. She releases his cape, having not realized she was holding onto it, digging her fingers into the pockets of the pants Omera had given her a day underneath warm sunlight and emerald green forests, a day where peace reigned underneath a constellation filled sky, a day that feels like years ago. "But I've never been to Mos Eisley—well, I haven't really gone to many places."
He casts his eyes around. "Well, you haven't been missing much."
She stares at the short, beige buildings and the unpaved, dirt streets. It reeks of desolation and monotony, and the silence has a certain tone to it, as if it could be hiding something darker. "You might have a point on this one."
When he laughs, even though it's a quiet, subtle sound, she feels a blossom of warmth sprout underneath her ribs. "It always surprises me whenever you agree with something I say," he says with amusement.
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." Huffing a little, she adds, "Also, your legs are longer, so. I'd appreciate a slower pace, regardless."
"Longer legs," he snorts. "I'll try and accommodate you."
"I would be so indebted."
As they walk, the woman from earlier pops back into her mind. The fluff of curls hanging around her head, the sympathetic crease forming between her knit brows as she'd looked at Zoya, considering both her and the Mandalorian's gruffness. A light sigh and understanding tightening to her mouth. I know I wouldn't want to be married to him.
