Vibrant Eyes | Din Djarin

31: A

Din watched Venus put the child to bed in its hammock and close the door.

He stood and watched as she sighed, heaving the rain-soaked cloak off her body and hanging it up above a water redistribution vent. His cape already hung up there, dripping with the slightest metallic clang every few seconds. With the addition of hers it became a duet to join the orchestra tapping relentlessly at the outside of the ship.

Then she turned towards him with a small smile. However, in an instant, it dropped, and she was frowning. Venus shuffled forward a step.

"You're..." she trailed off, head tilting in thought. Her gaze rose from the ground to his. "Angry."

She sounded surprised. Worried, even.

But that wasn't his focus.

"Yes."

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

"How did you know that?" he demanded instead.

Her brows shot up. "Hmm?"

"You know I'm angry. You know what I feel before I do, you knew those people needed help, and then there's the help you offered."

Venus stiffened and he knew he'd found something real in the fog and the mist of who she was.

"What knowledge do you..."

"None," he admitted.

"Then..."

But he cut in, "I've seen it before."

She took a small step back and something stabbed at his heart, abrupt and shocking.

He was angry. Determined. But he never wanted to see fear from her. Fear from someone he knew to fear nothing but the endlessness of the universe. That of which she transcended with ease.

Softer now, he said, "The child healed Greef Karga when we were on Navarro. Took the poison from his veins and sealed a physical wound right before our eyes."

"I wasn't aware," she murmured.

"Those people don't know better, but I do." Din tilted his helmet to stare at her more intently. He remembered the speed of their recovery masked by the common practices she used, all to disguise the otherworldly ability beneath it all. "I know because you've healed me before."

Venus blinked and pursed her lips. "The bacta spray—"

"Was meant for my head. Yes?"

She nodded haltingly.

"You did something IG-11 couldn't. Something impossible."

She didn't say anything. Didn't try to prove him wrong. She merely stood and took the scorn and accusation sharpening his words.

"I didn't even need to specify because you know. And now I do as well."

For a moment it was silent, and he tried to hold strong under her flitting gaze at the metal floor beneath their feet.

"Are you... like him?"

"Like who?" she murmured.

"The child."

For a moment she remained staring at the ground. Then he witnessed a transformation as she squared her shoulders and held her head high. Her clear gaze was as beautiful as it was terrifying. And he was beginning to treasure every bit of it.

"Grogu," she said.

Din faltered. "What?"

Then she smiled.

"The child's name is Grogu."