Armored Passion | The Mandalorian

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My hands unconsciously tighten around the slick railing while I watched the dark water ripple and wave around us. I force myself to take a deep breath, letting the salty air fill my desperate lungs as Mando stepped up beside me, resting a gloved hand on the small of my back. I clear my throat, squaring my shoulders out in hopes to show him that I was alright, but my hands continued to tightly grip on the edges of the metal railing, proving that my confident aura was nothing but a simple facade. 

"You okay?" he asks, tapping one of his fingers against my lower back. 

"Oh, I'm just dandy," I mutter, under my breath, keeping my eyes on the large waves surrounding us. The boat had been rocking in choppy movements, making me tense up in complete and utter discomfort. Mando's hand gently rubs my back after my sarcastic answer leaves my mouth, his hand obviously trying to soothe me with a gentle gesture. I continue to stand rigid and still, barely letting my body move comfortably with the constant rocking of the ship. 

"You two ever seen a mamacore eat before?" the man that had brought us along for the ride asks. I nervously swallow and let out a shaky breath. 

"Do I want to?" I ask quietly, my eyes flicking over to the tall captain for a few seconds. 

"It's quite a sight," he muses, nodding his head while looking out towards the water just as I had been doing. I hum and glue my eyes back to the deep water, my knuckles turning white as I squeezed the railing set in front of us. "The child might take an interest too. Y'all should come take a look while we feed her. You two and the kid will get a pretty good view."

"I think I'm good," I mutter, shaking my head while stepping closer to the railing. He hums and shakes his head, waving his hand over to the opening in the middle of the large boat. I let out a small sigh and hesitantly follow Mando and the kid over to the opening of the ship. 

I stop further away from the opening, but Mando and the kid get a little closer, going past what I thought would be a safe distance. The inconsistent rocking of the boat was really starting to take a toll on me now that I didn't have the railing as my safety blanket. I simply just didn't trust myself to stand that close to something that was going to drop right into open water. 

You know, I almost found this whole situation hilarious because it wasn't the rocking of the boat or the overwhelming salty scent from the dark water looming below us that made me feel uneasy. Nor was it the common fear of drowning because I was more than just a capable swimmer (Poe liked to challenge that statement every time he tackled me into one of the lakes we would swim in during the summer). I just found it hilarious because I have nothing to be afraid of, yet here I was, ready to race back to the metal railing at any sign of the boat tipping the wrong way. 

Or perhaps it's just the fact that I much prefer flying over sailing. 

The grate of the large opening in the deck slides back, showing off the murky blue water beneath us. They quickly cast a net above the water, pulling back on something that releases the bottom of the net. The bait had dropped from its netted embrace, plopping loudly into the dark water. We all watch as the water starts to bubble and move with greater hostility than before. I uneasily shift on my feet, not enjoying the sight. 

"She must be hungry," the fisherman says, letting out a quiet chuckle while peering over the edge. "Oftentimes, we'll feed her early in the morning just to keep her at bay, but we missed that today since we were goin' out of port-"

He suddenly whips his fishing staff back and knocks the end of it against the back of the kid's carriage. My breath hitches as I spot the mamacore shoot up to swallow the kid's carriage and my heart just about drops to my stomach. I run forward and shoot my hand out to bring the kid back with the use of the force (praying that I would be able to make it in time), but Mando grabs the back of my collar and yanks me away from the opening, diving in himself instead of letting my handle it. I trip over my own feet and hit the ground, slipping on the wet deck of the ship.