╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

(mirjaahal)

peace of mind, or healing,
general term for emotional
well-being

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

The night had fallen faster than expected, lulling Din towards a sort of realm between sleep and wakefulness. Cara waited until it seemed that he was asleep before speaking in a hushed whisper.
"You were a spy?" His partner flinched.
"Somewhat. For a little while."
"'Somewhat'?" His partner fidgeted.
"Somewhat." Her tone left no room for discussion. Cara exhaled.
"Okay then." There was a shuffle. Cara probably shifted. "Then why don't we talk about how you two ended up here."
She hummed. "Mikata skipped with a bounty."
"'Mikata'?"
"It's a nickname."
"Hmm." Cara went quiet. "And you?"
"I'm his partner."
"His partner?" There was a certain coyness in her voice.
"Not like that. He's," she hesitates. "He's like family to me."
Din faked a groan, pretending he had just woken.
"Mando!" Cara gave him a grin. "We were just talking about you!"
"Good things, I hope," Din responded. He turned his head. "You guys should get some rest. I can stay up." His partner nodded.
"I'm rested enough." Cara shifted again. "I'm ready to fight."
Din hummed. "You can keep watch with me then."
The child made a noise, halfway between a cry and a whimper. His partner glanced over at the still sleeping baby. She put a hand on the baby's head. He quieted down. She murmured quietly. A smile tugged at Din's lips.
"Mirjaahal, verd'ika."

━━✶━━

The sun is warm on the small stretch of skin on her wrist. There's quiet cheers, small ones from smaller children. She's reminded of the others she trained with and her smile turns bittersweet. She's reminded of the traditional memorial she gave them after, a silent effigy in the void between stars and she had thought, with a mix of dread in the yawning chasm and with bitterness only Mandalorians could make such brutal and violent death into something holy. She gives an exhale, silent and ragged in her chest and despises how close happiness and sadness are. Mikata glances back at her; he's already out of the cart, holding the child. "C'mon, kiddo."

━━✶━━

There's a certain serenity here; a sort of briskness to the breeze and the sun that fills her lungs and makes her feel full. The sun is warm on her face, illuminating her closed eyelids to a lighter brown that seemingly pulsed. She opens her eyes to a blue-stained world and sits up, the blue fading. She turns to the edge of the field where she can hear shouts and squeals of laughter. An almost mischievous smile crosses her face. She tucks a loose black strand of hair behind her ear and pulls on her helmet.
The kids emerge from the tree line and she waves to them.

━━✶━━

"Stop teaching the kids how to stab people." His partner waved her head, not even turning to face him.
"I'm not teaching them how to stab people, that's easy. I'm teaching them where to stab people to take them down." She sounded on the brink of laughter. His gaze didn't waver.
"Are you teaching the kids how to kill people?"
A pause. "No."
"You hesitated."
"I did not." He didn't respond. She swung her head around to glance at him. "Stop looking at me." He kept staring. "I mean, they could die eventually from blood loss, but you could bleed out if a womp rat bit you."
"Not really, no."
A woman rounded the corner. It was Omera, the woman from the village.
"Are you teaching the kids how to kill people?" She sounded almost aghast. His partner sputtered.
"....No."
"You hesitated."
Din lifted a hand. "That's exactly what I said."
"Listen, these are a bunch of kids from a farming village. They're probably gonna get jumped as some point; they should know how to defend themselves!" The child behind her looked alarmed. Omera let out an exasperated sigh.
"It's not me you have to convince. It's the other parents." Omera turned to Din, face hardening. "Speaking of: how did it go?"
Din didn't respond for a moment, studying her face. "Cara and I have to talk to the rest of the village."
A grimace flickered over Omera's face. "Something tells me this isn't good news." Din nodded. His partner glanced at him before turning back to the kids and staring to usher them away.
"Hey, wanna see me do a magic trick?" The kids cheered. The group rounded a corner and disappeared.
Din gives a sigh. "Let me find Cara, then we can talk."
Omera glances at him and there's something quick and uncertain in her gaze. He's glad he wears the helmet, or she would see the same look in his eyes.

━━✶━━

"You like him." It wasn't phrased as a question. Omera startles, whipping her head around. Omera decides to dodge the statement.
"Where are the kids?" The red mandalorian shrugged.
"I gave them two knives and told them to play nice." Omera's eyes widen. "Kidding. They're playing in a neighbor's house. But don't change the subject."
Omera fidgeted, wishing she could read the her expression. "I don't mean to encroach-"
"No. It's not-" she waves a hand. "We're not like that." She shifts and for a second, Omera can read her. She's thinking, hesitating. The red mandalorian absentmindedly taps the hilt of her sword. "I am in love with someone else." A bitter, mirthless laugh, bursts beneath the helmet. "I haven't even seen her in years. I-" she cuts herself off. "He-" she sputters and hesitates. "He has always been distant. It takes a lot to be close to him. That's why he made such a good hunter." She takes a step towards Omera. "The easiest way is to not feel anything. He's good at that." She steps away.
"Why are you telling me this?" She tilts her head, not looking back at the woman.
"He deserves to be happy. I hope you can make him so." There was a shout somewhere else in the village; a gathering call. "I would threaten you, but mikata can take care of himself." She left. The sunlight was bright and warm on Omera's skin.
Omera leaned against the wall and, for a moment, she imagined what it'd feel like for the mandalorian's arms to hold her, to hear his morning voice. Omera closed her eyes and wondered what color his hair was and how his hand would feel in hers. She wondered if she could convince him to stay, and if Winta could ever call him "dad".
Another shout yanked Omera from her daydream and her eyes shot open. She scurried down the paths to the center of the village.