CHAPTER 12

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KRILL SOUP!

*:･ﾟ✧

Thero is easygoing and helpful — kind and perhaps selfless, Gaia would come to know.

After delivering the lurid news of Sorgan not being compatible with her in the first run, Thero had supplied her with a new outfit consisting of a shirt and a pair of pants as per her request. Gaia was grateful, though in a timid sense while still trying to figure out what sort of person her caretaker is, and had then proceeded to ask for a shower to which Thero granted her, even going so far as to help her to the back of the hut. Gaia almost had to drag herself alongside him yet she managed to endure and bathe in peace — changing into her borrowed clothes and having the time to finally think for herself.

Thero, a while afterward, even straightened the developing situation out for her sake.

Gaia was informed that Mando and Cara had been out patrolling yesterday and returned with a report of an AT-ST behind the enemy lines. The farmers were persistent however, and ready to fight for their home despite the odds not being in their favour, them being exposed to countless disadvantages and what else there may be found. Thero then went on to explain how Mando was willing to help them out — giving in to their overwhelming commitment — and educate them of several combat techniques. Cara, as well, is assisting.

Thero could easily perceive Gaia being restless by the news and had then effectively spun the dreary reality into an uplifting conversation so as to not have her worry, turning away from such dark matters.

"—and I still don't understand those kids' fascination with me. I mean, I know I look different from them and all, you know. . . scarred from battle, but you should've seen the look on their faces," Gaia exclaims, cradled in the safe confines of her bed. She has settled herself into a criss-cross position with the sheets covering her legs and hands folded in her lap;a trying smile on her lips while the sun outside shines bright over the planet of Sorgan. "I'm telling you, Thero, it was like they'd stumbled on a green Nexu!"

"Well, can you blame them? They've never seen a Crenata before with their own eyes." Thero grins cheerfully as he adjusts himself on the wooden chair next to Gaia's bed. "Come on. It couldn't have been that bad. . ."

Gaia watches Thero with an unconvinced stare, dramatically emphasising, "One of them said aloud that I was blue like a Krill."

Thero gradually submits. He chuckles lowly while avoiding eye contact with Gaia, afraid he'll cave completely if he were to look at her. She feigns offence, her lips parting in a false display of shock. "That's not funny! No!"

"Just a bit."

Gaia cannot evade the mirth headed her way, and a quiet laugh has soon slithered from her lips. She observes Thero giggle, a prosperous fondness gleaming in her dark eyes similar to that between friends. It's halted as a presence from outside enters the establishment. Gaia spots the woman from yesterday — who tidied up the barn — trudge toward them with a wooden tray secured in her hands. Thero has noticed her as well and he hurries to stand. "Omera. W-What are you doing here?"

Gaia frowns at Thero:he seems jittery all of a sudden. Omera pays it no mind and provides him with a honeyed smile. She gestures to the bowl sitting atop the tray. "I heard your patient had woken up." She then turns to the other woman. "Gaia, right? I wanted to see how you were doing, and give you this. . ."

Gaia perks up by the smell of food wafting in her direction, tracking Omera as she offers her the tray. It feels almost like a lifetime ago since she last had a decent meal. "What is it?"

"Soup," Omera clarifies, nodding along. "Krill, to be specific. I made it from scratch."

Both Gaia and Thero presents her a smile.

"That's very kind. . ."

"That's kind of you. . ."

Collectively falling silent, Gaia hesitates as Thero flushes pink while realizing he had thanked Omera when the honor was Gaia's. Thero's hand is reaching for the back of his own neck, nervously massaging the stiff muscles underneath while he dodges Omera's inquisitive gaze. He faces away from her and begins to wander outside, mumbling 'excuse me' and acting as if it never occurred all the same.

Gaia clears her throat. "Thank you." She picks the wooden spoon tentatively up, scooping a steaming pool of soup into her mouth while Omera is patiently waiting for an honest rating. The instant awareness of the flavours caressing her tongue in a spiral of greatness, has her eyelids descending in satisfaction upon the spread-out warmth and its impact on the rest of her body. Her eyes ache now more than ever, her fever's rawness prodding at her limbs to lay down and sleep. Even so, she's more than happy to eat it all though.

Gaia, out of the corner of her eye, notes of Omera's look. "Um," she draws out, thinking she might be going about it the wrong way. "Am I not eating the soup. . .correctly?. . ."

Omera can't help but laugh, the edges of her eyes crinkling. Gaia's confusion is nothing short of adorable. "No, you're doing fine," she assures. "I actually came here because I wanted to properly thank you for helping us."

"Oh."

Omera strolls forward and indicates to the bed before anything else can be said. "May I?"

"Of course," Gaia mumbles somewhat awkwardly. Omera claims a seat near the rim of the bed, and Gaia's fingertips begins to buzz with uncertainty as she maintains a firm grip on the wooden spoon, lightly grazing the bottom of the soup bowl in the meantime.

"The whole village," Omera starts delicately, "we're all so very grateful for your aid. . ."

"But I haven't done anything. . ."

"That's not true. You accepted our appeal for help," Omera urges in a cordial fashion. "Many others would have turned their backs on us and not come at all, left us to fend for ourselves. You may not have done anything just yet but that doesn't mean we should ignore your devotion to our situation. Your presence alone means a lot to all of us."

Turning shy of Omera's disclosure, Gaia gives rise to a humble smile. Her heart cramps with value and appreciation of how the villagers have taken her attendance into consideration. It's so much different from when she was collecting bounties: Greef was always pleased with the results, of course he was, but never so much as a 'good job' was thrown at her — neither from him or anybody else. Therefore, by hearing this kind woman acknowledge her efforts, she has a hard time responding to it.

Gaia is not familiar with such things, nor did she think she ever would be in all honesty.

"I—I don't," Gaia stumbles tensely, "I don't know what to say. Um, I'm—I'm glad that you find. . .comfort in me." She grimaces at her poor choice of words, clutching the spoon between her fingers. "That sounded awful. . ."

Omera seems to briefly ponder about it. "It's not wrong," she eases. "Maybe we do find comfort in you. Who's to say we don't?"

Gaia dips her head slightly, absorbing Omera's answer. She sparks the conversation alive again soon after, and quietly mentions, "The Mandalorian — he's a good man, and a great teacher. I really think we can win this."

"I think so, too," Gaia agrees. A surging smile of fondness grows upon her lips by the mention of Mando, and it causes her to reach for one of her own cheeks where he had gently wiped her tears away. She's a bit disheartened knowing it was only a dream after all, and wonder how she would feel if he were to take his helmet off in front of her; to be able to interpret his mysterious eyes. . .

A prompt realization dawns on Gaia. She quickly strives to face Omera and is relieved to see the woman gazing silently ahead, away from her. She replaces the pondering with shoving a spoonful of soup into her mouth, hearing Omera leniently add, "You must be proud to have such a capable boyfriend."

Gaia chokes on the soup. She's flung into another feral coughing fit — completely unprepared — and aiming to muffle the noise by directing it to the crook of her arm. It's like cobwebs have been strung to the inner walls of her throat and is now constantly itching whenever she so much as breathes, bringing her to repeatedly push a harsh breath out. How and when did Omera even come to the conclusion of such things? "You mean. . . Mando?" Gaia forces out in-between coughs.

Omera rubs her back, trying to soothe Gaia's discomfort. "Yes. He's been so worried about you. He'll be glad to know that you're okay."

"What? How do you know?"

There's a certain detain to Omera's answer. She becomes reluctant, as if her following words are laced with something personal and frail, utterly heartfelt while drifting amid the chaos that is this world. Gaia doesn't pressure her into continuing, nor can she perfectly decypher the look behind Omera's prudent eyes;thorny and bleak. It's the aspect of someone who harbours towering heartache and cosmic endurance. A strong, solid will.

"None of us," the widow says ever so slowly, "needed to see his face in order to know how scared he was, Gaia. I've only ever heard a person sound like that when they think they're losing someone important to them. It's painful, full of hurt. It's out of their hands and they feel helpless, or maybe weak. That's how I know how much he cares about you."

"I. . .I had no idea."

Omera shifts suddenly. "Good people are hard to come by nowadays, especially those who would risk everything for another. Promise me, that you'll look after him."

Gaia doesn't reply straight-away.

It's surreal to think that Mando — who had a sniper rifle pointed at her as his first impression — would be concerned for her wellbeing. He was so quiet and detached back on Arvala-7 that she was certain he had left her at one point, but then he surprised her by honouring his word, fly her to civilisation and afterwards acknowledge their combined efforts on Nevarro and allow for her to tag along. She thought he was going to kick her out but he didn't, and then they arrived on Sorgan where he's been willing to hide them.

Gaia is not sure she believes Omera though, but even so, it's surely and entirely true.

— Author's Note —

I'M LIVING FOR THE HONESTY IN THIS CHAPTER,,,AND I CRAVE MORE