The Cosmos Feels Lonely ☆ The Mandalorian

7

               Tugging on Mandos tired form, T'rialow led him past the torn Razor Crest, her eyes catching the empty weapons cabinet, forcing his helmet the other way.

She knew that he would be mad if he saw that they had stripped him of his religion, a Mandalorian is still a great warrior without them...

But, with them, they are a raging storm, one that one does not want to be reckoned with. Slowly walking their way across Arvala-7, they both made up their mind of a destination to go to. Kuiils moisture farm.

By the time they got there, the sun had began to set, causing T'rialow to once more, tear off her goggles. This time, the look of defeat seemed to swirl amongst her differentiating colours that clashed around her slit iris. During their walk, Mando had unwrapped his arm around the girls shoulders.

He didn't catch it, but her face, in that moment, slowly befall to a scowl.

She could see smoke rising from the small kitchen hut, where the male ugnaught had made her tea, a day prior. The tinge of electricity rung in the air, making the mongrel look up to the roof, where Kuiil sat, attaching a metal frame to a radio pole.

"I thought you were dead," the ugnaught called out, not turning around to look at the two bounty hunters.

Slowly turning around, T'rialow huffed, her eyes glowing like two small moons within the darkness that was slowly ensuing on the four individuals. She knew that Mando was going to seek in Kuiil for assistance, and although T'rialow wished to stay up and tell of the boring tale, she felt the grotesque bruises swelling up against her ghostly skin.

Choosing to babysit the child, T'rialow sat down on the ground not too far from where Mando and Kuiil stood, discussing what to do about the Jawas. The child was stampeding on the ash fallen ground, its silver fathier on the girls lap, as she slightly inspected the burns that slithered all up her arms, like a disease. She hoped that they would fade away, these kisses like stains of a grotesque sunset burning itself into her skin, like the last petals of summer.

Propping her head up by her chin, which rested on her palm, T'rialow eyed the small child before her. He was currently giggling, as he ran after a frog, that, to T'rialow, looked as if it was an ugly squash dipped in slime. Its smooth skin was mockly, somehow, contrasting it greatly with the ground it slopped along on.

Smiling, down at the creature, it peered up at her, before running after the frog, Kuiil appeared by her side,"This is what was causing all the fuss?"

"I think its a child," Mando said.

"Well, whatever it is," T'rialow hummed,"he's very, very adorable."

"It is better to deliver it alive, then," Kuiil asserted, walking back over to Mandos side.

The child cooed, before leaping forward, landing its small frame on the back of the frogs, causing T'rialow to move her fingers softly upward, gracing her lips, hiding a sneering smile. He really was a small bounty hunter in the making, she thought, he already found his two skills: cuteness, and catching small frogs. Grasping on to the frog, tightly, the child held it out for T'rialow, as if showing off its prize. Picking it up from the small creature, T'rialow softly caressed its cheek with her finger.

"Good job, strik won," T'rialow smothered, giving the child a nickname from her peoples dialect, meaning 'little one.'

Without warning, the frog leapt from her hands, causing T'rialow to shriek in surprise, for such a tiny beast, it was a great leap of faith into the unknown. The child leapt after it, as the mongrel bit her tongue in disgust of the slime that was now wringing off of the tips of her fingertips. A small chuckle was heard, coming from mando, causing T'rialow to sneer at him.