The Cosmos Feels Lonely ☆ The Mandalorian

21

               The night had fallen like a soft, motherly embrace over the land, for the sky was empty of its burning sun, but in its place was shattered glass sparkling from the moons light.

T'rialow watched as Cara left her seat up on the porch, after hours of talking, T'rialow had managed to convince them to come up with a game plan to train the farmers. It mostly took a lot of empty threats and sour scolding to get them both on board with the idea. Even if they weren't on board, she would've done it without them, she owed Omera that...

And Winta.

She wouldn't want the girl to end up like her, growing up too fast, and loosing a home you once believed you would grow old in with another by your side. Softly tracing the hilt of her double bladed lightsaber by her hip, T'rialow craned her neck and took in the farm through her own eyes.

The mongrel adored the darkness brought on by the night, for it meant she wouldn't have to hide beneath goggles and cloaks from the beating sun and the furious glares. She could be who she was meant to be, a silent predator in the night who picks apart their prey from strongest to weakest.

"Why did you leave me."

His voice resonated with the mongrel sitting in front of him, tugging at a cord no one else had barley achieved a fraction of. Mando wanted to feel as if T'rialow had done a conscious choice, choosing the cold indifference of hurting him than anything else for her own good. But, his heart yearned for a reason, a responsibility, something that would ridicule what was going through his senseless mind.

Tugging at her hair, she let her hands curl behind her neck as her head hung between her knees. She felt his betrayal like a sad lullaby in the wind, his heart, it was beating unnaturally fast for the mostly cool and calm mandalorian.

"We don't know each other, mando," T'rialow whispered,"We only understand each others shell. Why I did what I did was because of something in the past."

Coming to stand by the post, mando leant against the wood, listening to the soft creek as his body weight was slackened on the fragile timber. Watching her, his hands flinched, the need to hold her flushed through his body like the burn of a blaster shot. It stung, continuously, over the spot of his stone heart.

"Why don't you let me in, then," Mando asked, making them both freeze at his choice of words.

Never in the two years had they spent together, has he ever said such a sentence. It was unusual, for it was soft and almost sweet, but it came out nasty. Sitting up straighter, T'rialows eyes flashed in the dark, her canines slitting her bottom lip open and causing a ravine of blood down the right side of her face.

"How dare you," she spat, standing up to face him,"Follow your own advice before shoving it down other peoples throats, mando!"

Looking down to the ground, mando realised the mistakes in his words, all he had ever done was shut her out and snap her questions with snippets of a reply. Practically all of his life was spent staring out into space through his visour. Standing before him now, was his world, and he'd never looked upon her face without the mask.

Grabbing both sides of his helmet, T'rialow tugged it so that he'd look at her in the eyes,"All you ever do is hide behind scraps of metal. Maybe I do shy away from the world, but I have my reasons, and I won't be sharing them with a human who might as well be a droid."

Coiling from her words, they began to taunt him. A droid. A human droid. He might as well be the one thing he hates, a droid.

Reaching up, he placed his hands on hers, his eyes staring into hers. He wished she could see him for who he was, but the rules that he has lived by outlive their relationship. Although, for her, even Mandalorian codes weren't blaster proof.

"Close your eyes," mando shivered, the realisation of what he was doing making his heart begin to flutter faster,"and don't open them. Don't look at me."

Opening her mouth to say something, mando coiled his hands around her wrists, silencing whatever bitter words she was about to throw at him as a shield. Whatever words she could conjure up, whatever foul play she could manifest, it would hurt him but he wouldn't loose this strange sense of freedom he felt when he was by her side.

Watching her close her eyes, mando guided his hands back up to hers, where his fingers coiled between her claws resting on his beskar helmet. Drawing it up, he smiled, as he watched her scrunch up her nose in a strangely adorable way. The fresh, forest air brushed over his stuffy face, as it suddenly became free of the mask.

"I'm sorry for asking you to let me in, when I've never done the same for you."

T'rialows face flushed at the sound of his voice, his real voice, softly tickling her cheeks. She'd bottle it up, and get drunk on it if that was ever possible. The modulator on his helmet didn't do him any justice, although, I guess it helps him from not being swooned over by every female in sight.

"T'rialow."

Say it again, is what she wanted to say. It was rogue, and husky, but they way he spoke her name was like liquified sunshine painting itself across the skies in warm shades of pinks and purples. A sight only she would be allowed to see.

Instead, she did what good warriors did, and kept all that bottled up and thrown to sea. Pulling her hands out of his, she felt her way to the edge of the porch, before sitting down. Feeling her hair fall around her face like a personal curtain, taking in small, deep breathes to get her heart under control.

"Thank you, mando," T'rialow called out, feeling the pressure of the porch dip beside her,"thank you for letting me in," finally.

Looking up at the stars, T'rialow bit her lip, aggravated at herself for welcoming him at the simple gesture of removing his helmet. Well, it wasn't simple, she knew he lived and breathed by his coven codes. For him to remove his helmet may look simple, but it was like a turtle shedding its shell. Mando was showing her that he, too, is as vulnerable to a blaster shot beneath that armour.

Wanting to scream at the stars that complimented the darkness above, she wanted to run away from him as far as she could, travel to the other side of the universe. But, now something wouldn't let her, like two hands forcing her shoulders down so that she sat by his side on this luminous night.

She wanted to turn to him, and remind mando that she wasn't Omera.

Looking down at her claws clamped up into fists by her side, mandos heart began to rush. His rational mind screamed that this wasn't right, and when this was all over, she'd look at you and run. She'd expose who you are to everyone who wants your head, so that no matter how far you ran, you wouldn't be able to outrun the sound of her laugh as she lugged a bag of coin over her shoulder.

'Pitiful, sad Mandalorian,' she'd say, watching as his enemies plaster his face on as many screens as they could,'too fragile, too caring.'

Shaking his head, the small curls on his head bouncing softly at the movement, mando turned and looked at her side profile. Her eyes were closed, her face tilted back so that it was facing the stars. She may be ruthless, she may rip out his heart and stomp on it till he felt no more, but there was a line to her actions she'd never cross. That, he knew, was double crossing him.

They were too alike for her to do that without any mercy.

Rising, Mando turned to look down at the feral mongrel beside him, unsure of whether or not to say anything to her before he slipped away into the barn and under the covers of the cot. Instead, she sighed softly, her voice ringing out in the darkness and beating him to any words he could conjure.

"We are some of the strongest fighters in the universe, and yet we are so damaged beyond repair," T'rialow snickered,"we live without hope, we are the definition of cursed."

Looking over his shoulder, he smiled as T'rialow leant her shoulder against the beam, settling herself down to rest on the porch like she had done numerous times. Except, that was on the ship, where she'd sit and gaze out the windows with tired eyes that screamed of days without sleep. Now, she sat on the porch and gazed out at the forest before her, with those same tired eyes that screamed of days without sleep.

He'd risen hours before the sunrise, and picked her sleeping form off of the porch.