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001. VALE OF TEARS
( —Life or the world at large regarded as a source of sorrow, strife, or tragedy.)
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𝐄mpty. Silent. Dull.
Din Djarin was beginning to feel like a ghost in a system of puppets. The ghost of his own machine, battling the odds, through the four-dimensional space, speculating, always speculating, if the blackness absolutely was a mask over a true spark.
Everything around him was a distraction, a cacophony to take the edge off from the real responsibility at hand—to unearth the one that fell into flames. For that to happen, he had to let go of the void that seemed to consume everything. Nothing seemed to subside with the passage of time. Not even the golden flames that haunted his dreams as he slept.
But of course, being a Mandalorian had its perks. He was excellent at hiding it, masking it everywhere; in his voice, with the helmet and his actions. But somehow, a single memory, a term, a sight was all it took to claw through the veil of confidence.
The child cooed softly from inside the pod, dark eyes curiously glancing at the Mandalorian. Its ears jolted up when he cast it a tentative glance, letting out another happy cry.
"What's got you all glad?" He asked, not expecting an answer in return. The child cooed again, a soft titter.
As the Mandalorian fixed his amban rifle into the cabinet, his eyes caught the sight of a growing peak of scrolled papers, the glow of gold catching his eye.
Tenuous fingers unfurled the browning fringes of the paper, his breath catching at the note that he had read over a thousand times. The everpresent, gilded dust settled between the tips of his gloved fingers, a flame arising from he touched it. His mind flooded with pictures of her as if it were yesterday, dark eyes shining with mirth and teeth glistening with her smile. Never a fleeting memory, his mind still forged the feel of the touch of supple skin and the sound of her voice.
