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The viscous trace of sunlight sears into Eden's skin, the furious gaze of Tatooine's twin suns setting her skin aflame. Perched upon the hind of a speeder bike, she barrels through the desolate landscapes scattered across the planet, her arms constricted around the Mandalorian's waist to keep herself secured. Guided by Eden's past conquests through the planet, along with the aid of their old acquaintance, Peli Motto, the seemingly unbreakable pair had set out for Mos Pelgo, with the naive hopes they'd locate the Mandalorian rumoured to reside within the old mining town. Beside them every step of the way is the child, a smile gracing his innocent features as the wind caresses his face; watching with glee as the world passes them by.
As promised, the simple, feeble town of Mos Pelgo emerges from the hazy line of the horizon. Their speeder bike nearing the sand-made streets of the civilisation, their speed descends into a crawl; the newcomers creeping through the town, of which was foreign only to one of them. A few townsfolk are scattered amongst the buildings, each pair of beady eyes set upon Eden, and, more so, the Mandalorian. Muted tales of broken spirits seep through the cracks within their eerily stoic expressions, their every glance setting Eden on edge despite their seemingly harmless facade.
The speeder bike's pace stills as they come before the town's cantina, halting within its shadow. Her arms agonisingly tearing away from the comfort of Din's armour, Eden arises from her position upon the vehicle. Sand crunching melodically beneath her worn-down boots, she crosses the small area between the speeder and the cantina's steps. Sparing a glance back at the child, she silently requests he remains beside the speeder; though she knew her attempts were most likely fruitless.
Crossing the open entryway into the cantina, Eden's pace falters a moment; allowing herself a moment to scan their surroundings. The building was void of any lifeforms, with the exception of a lonesome Weequay tending to the bar. He gingerly cuts into a piece of fruit, but, as his gaze meanders to the newcomers, his body freezes within the midst of his careful movements. Placing down the utensil within his hand with great precision, he steps toward them, his wide-eyes ever locked upon the pair. "Can I help you?"
A gentle hand upon the small of her back guides Eden forward, the rough texture of the glove a welcome sensation. Their path across the dusty floor led by Din, they slow before the bar, within the Weequay's direct gaze. A coldness to his hand as he draws it away from his companion, Din rests his forearms upon the bartop, leaning closer to it's tender. "We're looking for a Mandalorian."
The Weequay mirrors the actions of the stranger before him, leaning closer to Din. A vagueness held within his gruff voice, he responds, "Well, we don't get many visitors in these parts. Can you describe him?"
