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The cold touch of night had descended upon the moon of Trask, condemning all upon it to familiar darkness, until the light would inevitably prevail once more at dawn. The family of three wander cautiously along the docks that line the waterways; the child engulfed by the bliss of sleep as it's nuzzled within the arm of the Mandalorian. A softness glazes Eden's eyes as she watches the unique creature, whom they'd taken in as their own. Flashes of their time spent together dance within the forefronts of her mind, echoing like a symphony conducted by nostalgia, and played by dread for the inevitable future.
"Does..." Eden's softly uttered sentence trails off before its completion, her thoughts catching within her throat. His attention entranced entirely by her, Din tilts his head toward her, patiently observing her with wonder. "Does any part of you hope that we don't find the Jedi? That we don't have to say..." Once more, Eden's voice fades, unable to so much as mutter the word goodbye.
Din's breath catches within his chest, and, beneath the protection of near-impenetrable metal, his heart skips a beat. Subconsciously, his soft hold upon the child tightens ever-so-subtly, drawing him closer to his chest. Eyes descending upon the creature they'd risked it all for, Din's gaze lingers, basking in the way the ghosts of a smile play upon his lips and the softened creases on his forehead as he sleeps. The child was at peace.
Finally, Din responds, "Yes."
A silence befalls them once more after the echoes of Din's answer fade from existence. A haunting somberness taints the air in which they breathe, yet not another word tip-toes off their tongues. They needn't say more, for there was no more they could say. Despite their heart's greatest desires, the wellbeing of the child was what guides their every choice. And, if it meant having to shatter their souls to ensure the child prospered, then, so be it.
Still, neither could ignore their longing for a future that was never meant to be.
The pair are drawn away from their childish fantasies by the dangers of reality; the clanging of nearby metal setting them on high alert. Posture's straightening, their pace stills. And, after a beat of anticipation passes, a gruff voice erupts throughout the night, "Hey! You..."
From the sheath of darkness, a Quarren thug emerges before the pair, wielding the same weapon used against the bounty hunters not long ago. "You killed my brother," The thug spits, venom lacing his tongue. Slowly, he steps closer to the pair, sizing them up as though they were his prey. And, from behind the cargo barrels surrounding them, more emerge from every side, each wielding a weapon of their own.
