the curious happenstance of pedro pascal and din djarin [The Mandalorian]

three years prior

December 3rd, 2016

Cold.

That's all he could remember.

Biting, bitter. Cold. Rain. Echoing footsteps of each passerby. Unseeing. They are blessed with ignorance.

'Ignorance is bliss', is what people say. For the longest while, he had agreed. Keep your head down; you'll be fine. How could ignorance be bliss if ignorance lent to the suffering of those who had done no harm? Two years, he spent on those streets. Starving.

Cold.

So very cold, he shivered but it did nothing. Bliss was during summer. But he still starved. Could not work. Each day leading into the next in a blurring passage of time, two years; and all the while he couldn't help but ask himself why.

Why? Was this his punishment, was it his karma? Had the Gods turned on him, abandoned him? Even after praying in bed, every night, on that forsaken planet.

He didn't pray anymore. Somehow he felt it would not aid him.

"Hey."

There was a shift in weight on the mattress, but he did not look up from his knees tucked to his chest. There was a strange aroma, something he didn't quite recognise.

"It's Peri, right?"

Deep voice. He recalled it all too well. Though the words had become a blur, he recalled feeling the baritone, the bass in that voice. He remembered seeing the shoes, worn and torn with decades of wear. He recalled the hand, reaching down, pale and soaked with rain. And then the voice. A voice that radiated... warmth. Kindness.

He looked up. The tall man knelt at the foot of the mattress. He held a cup in his left hand, steam rose from it. Tucked under his right arm was a thick blue blanket.

"I brought you tea," the man spoke. Deep voice. "It's a bit hot, but, in a few minutes it should be cool enough to drink. Unless you want to, ah, scald your tongue."

When no response came from Peri, the man nodded and leaned forward.

"I'll just leave this here for you." He placed the mug on the floor where Peri could reach for it. "We don't have any heating. But I have a blanket for you."

He unrolled it and reached to throw it over Peri's knees. He tugged at it, pulling it close and burying the bottom half of his face. Warm. The man smiled softly, but it didn't feel genuine. It was sad. Everything felt sad. Suffocating. Cold.

"I didn't tell you my name. I'm sorry." The man shifted his position on the mattress so he was sitting cross-legged. "I'm Christopher. The ginger you met earlier is my wife, Ivana." Peri had already figured this by the rings on their fingers, but he did not voice it.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Putting it lightly, Peri almost scoffed.

"I can feel it. You're like us."

I can feel it too. But he didn't understand it. Didn't understand anything.

"How long have you been here?"

Two standard years, give or take.

"You don't have to talk, but it would really help us."

Peri shifted on the mattress. Pulled the blanket even closer, made sure his hands were covered. A breeze flew in through a window that had, at some point, been shattered. He shivered. Christopher looked over at it, then back at Peri.

"Sorry about that. Hard to find the money to fix it."

Tell me about it. He was suddenly aware of the crack in his glasses. Irritating. Thankfully it hadn't been any worse-