In The Works

Star Wars (The Mandalorian) - Din Djarin/OC

A Star Wars - The Mandalorian Fanfiction

***

Summary

With the rise of the Empire and the waning of the Tatooine's podracing fervour, Mos Espa was no longer quite the thriving hub it once was. But it was Tani Deak's home, and where her father had run his plied his trade, sharpening blades from his little shop - a shop that was now Tani's. And blades would always need to be sharpened, no matter the fortunes of their desert city as the days of the Civil War reached a tipping point - blades belonging to outlaws, farmers, raiders...

...and even the odd helmeted bounty hunter.

***

*Le sigh* .....yeah.....on one hand I want to groan and complain and berate my brain for this nonsense, but let's be honest....at this point, I'm willing to work on pretty much anything given that I haven't been able to write much of anything for far longer than I want to admit. Hopefully it'll be quick and fun and help me get my mojo back in gear so I can actually work on the projects I need to work on! *fingers-crossed*

So anyway. A Mandalorian fanfic! Woohoo! Honestly, started rolling the idea for this one around in my head during the first season already but, you know, other projects beckoned....or at least, I wanted them to.... Buuuut then I distracted myself from my writer's block/burnout with an escape into some Oberyn fanfiction and that coupled with Season 2 starting up and boom. Tani's story has officially been started.

Who is Tani you say? Well, Tani Deak is a Tatooine woman with a small blade-sharpening stall in Mos Espa that she took over after her father died....including some off the books and, err, less than popular 'savage' clientele. 

And guess who she's going to meet shortly before the fall of the Empire? I mean, he did imply that he's spent a bit of quality time on Tatooine *before* the Child entered his life..... ;) 

Oh, and did I mention that she's blind? Make of that what you will. 

***

Excerpt

There was something soothing to the hum of the sharpener and the feel of the cool stone and slick steel beneath her fingers. Familiar. Tani smoothed her thumb along the edge of the blade, the pad sensitive enough to feel the final remnants of the knicks and burrs that lingered still.

A few deft flicks of her wrist and the blade hissed across the whetstone fixed to her counter. A final quick wipe against the oiled cloth in her lap and an brush of her fingers along the edge and she was satisfied.

"Deo?" The whirr and chink of mechanical joints approached from her left. She held up the carver. "This is the last of them?"

"Yes, Miss," came the labour droid's monotone. The carving knife was carefully lifted from her hands. "Shall I stow them?"

"Cabinet 2, box 6 should be large enough for the whole order," she confirmed, reaching out to power down the sharpening unit. "And I think that's enough for today. The prefect's housekeeper isn't due in until tomorrow afternoon, so I can finish his order in the morning. You can close up."

The old droid moved away with a solemn 'very good, miss,' leaving Tani to finish tidying her workspace, replacing her different stones and tools in their crate once they were properly cleaned and oiled to her exacting standards.

At the front of her little business, she could hear the creak and rumble of the awning lowering and the grind and clunk of the shutter being pulled into place for the night as Deo carried out her instructions. Another moment and the subtle buzz of the lights fell silent followed by the droid's approach.

Standing and wiping her hands, Tani circled the counter that made up her workstation, pausing only hang up her apron to double check that the crate was properly latched. Then, once Deo had collected the crate, Tani stepped out into the evening sun. She inhaled deeply, taking in the unique hot, dry scent of the desert beyond the city that almost managed to dissipate the cloying metallic tang of ship exhaust and oddly meaty odour that clung to the city. As evening fast approached, the blistering heat of the day was starting ease into something far more comfortable, the touch of the suns on her face no longer so harsh. It would make for a far more pleasant walk home, she commented to Deo as she laid a hand on his arm. Naturally he agreed.

Indeed, by the time Deo and Tani made their way to her little home just past the outskirts, the evening was well on the way to turning cool as the first of the suns approached the horizon.

She hesitated only for a moment of consideration upon stepping inside before crossing the small living space to gather a couple pallies from the counter and fill the canteen that waited next to the tiny kitchen's pitted spigot. She sighed at the tired, spluttering hiss that preceded the half-hearted gush of water.

"Deo, remind me that the reservoir will need to be filled tomorrow."

"I will see to it when I deliver Bandi Mar's commission." Tani smiled, turning toward the sound of the droid's voice.

"What would I do without you," she quipped fondly as she headed for the back door. She hesitated with a muttered curse, "oh, and can you bring out my crate outside?" At the droid's acknowledgement, she nudged the door control with the side of her hand. As far outside the main city as she was, the evening was quiet and peaceful, the evening breeze gentle as it came in off the Dune Sea. Far nicer for sitting outside, she mused as she made her way toward the adobe wall that enclosed the generator that powered her home as well as the rest of the scattered cluster of outbuildings that stood between her and the meandering northern outskirts of Mos Espa.

Sure enough, as Deo caught up with her and set the crate she asked for down next to the old bench her father had set up years before for just such occasions, a particular musky scent drifted in on the breeze. She'd wondered if they'd show up tonight. After all, she had heard whispers that they were in the area. With a small smile, Tani settled on the bench, nibbling on one of the pallies as she listened to Deo set up her father's old brazier. It wasn't a fire, but it served well enough for the customs of these particularclients.

It was the intent that counted, as her father had once explained.