007. FATAL ATTRACTION

( —an affinity for something or someone inherently harmful. )

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Myra understood the significance of family when she arrived on Sorgan.

It was the glue that the little community of krill farmers together on this lonely green planet. They had each other's backs, and the smiles of their nearest and dearest were nothing better for them. While Myra had raised herself and wasn't familiar with the familial bond, she knew she could never fit into their village. 

The people of Sorgan had been accommodating for a change. When she had come in half-dead from the planet to planet teleporting, they had taken her in and provided a place to stay. They were excellent hosts, curious about her ways and how she had arrived on the planet with no transport. The room they had provided for her was small, concise and efficient. She had nothing to carry and nothing to leave while she was here, hence, thought, who was counting? 

She had changed from her clothes, holding the golden silk material and thinking hard of a solution to look less of an enchantress and more of a human woman. The gold she had come in with was safely tucked away and she stuck to a weird, puffy material that the farmers wore. She hated it; the lack of motility and the stiffness. She had been so used to the soft, bending silk and immense ornaments, the change did her differently. 

"Myra?" A knock sounded at the door. A little girl no older than seven stood there with a small smile, half her body outside the frame. In an instant, her smile dropped. "That's your name, right? My mother told me." 

"Yes," Myra greeted, waving at her to come in. "What's your name?"

"Winta," she introduced, taking a seat next to her on the bed. It was made of patches of wood, creaking with the movement. A window was placed parallel to the bed which overlooked the woods and the krill ponds. 

"Is it true that you're a witch?"

Myra turned her gaze from the window to the bold, little girl with a broad smile, trying not to laugh. "How do you want me to prove it?"

Winta thought about it, tapping on her chin and squinting hard. Myra was a little humble about using her mind-link to look into the little girl's head after the last time she did, choosing against and watching the girl speak for herself.

"Can you make things move without touching it?"

Myra shrugged with an easygoing grin, turning to the lone arm-chair that was placed on the other end of the little hut. It had been a long time since she called the Ichor into her, beseeching the waters for being too far and allowing the spirits to rise. Her hand rose with the motion and so did the chair. 

A gasp left Winta's lips and Myra opened one eye with a little sliver, trying to catch the girl's reaction. She was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, watching the chair levitate. When Myra started to laugh, the chair thudded back to the ground. 

"That's awesome," Winta whispered to her. "Do you think I could become a witch?"

Myra, truly pleased, ran a tender hand through the little girl's dark hair. "I think you become anything you want to be."

"Will you teach me?" 

She nodded with a tiny smile, tapping her chin. "Anytime, love."

Winta shuffled toward Myra on the bed and sat in front of her with her hands at her knees. She sat up straighter and looked at Myra knowingly. 

"Well, go on then."

"Now?"

"Is there a problem?" The little girl's lips formed an O in disappointment. Before she could answer, another voice beat her to it. 

"Winta!"

A flurried woman dressed in the same cotton she wore came rushing in. She was tall, sharp-featured and terse. Her feet were clad in cloth, too and her dark hair that resembled the little girl flowing behind her. She took the woman to be her mother. 

"How many times have I told you to not disturb the lady?" She scolded Winta. Her tone was soft yet stern, something she had seen the Mandalorian use on her when she had bothered him. She forced the thought out of her head, focusing on the present.  

"Winta was only making friends," Myra rushed to pacify the worried mother. "In fact, I think she did."

"Oh," her mother breathed out in relief. "That's—"

"Aren't her eyes pretty, ma?" The little girl asked, crouching in front of Myra to excitedly peer at the side of her face. "They're so yellow!"

"They are," the mother let out a relieved breath, stepping away to show the door. "Well, I think you should introduce her to some of your friends."

Winta let out a high-pitched squeal, bounding out of bed and for the door. She waited for Myra to pull herself up and follow her, the little girl running back to her grab her hand. In a discerned flash, Myra took her hand back to her chest with a surprising jolt wracking her body. Winta looked at both of her own hands in fear when Myra folded her hands into each other with a pained grimace. 

"What is it?"

"It's just," Myra sighed, embarrassed more than ever. "You cannot ever touch a witch without letting her know, love."

"Oh," Winta breathed out, nodding sheepishly. "Sorry. Can I take your hand?"

"Of course," Myra laughed, taking the little girl's outstretched hand. It was warm, small and her bony fingers wrapped around her slender ones tightly. She led the lonely witch out of the hut and to the ponds. 

The pond-side air was pungent with the scent of salinity from when she usually descryed, the sound of bubbling and respiring of krill like music to her ears. The surface of the water was like moulded black glass, some parts silver with the midday sun. Azure coloured, curved shaped creatures flit through the water in quick movements; she couldn't help but gasp.

"Hey, you found the krill!" Winta shouted in merriment.

"They're beautiful," Myra whispered, running a hand into the water. The ripples danced against her skin like a potion, a laugh leaving her lips. "I've never seen anything like it."

A splash of water fell splat over her face and she let out a short, ringing laugh. She blinked the saline water out and rubbed a hand down her face, splashing the remnants of water droplets from her hand and onto Winta's face. The little girl let out a charming hoot of laughter, using her hand to slosh more water onto Myra's face. 

With the breeze running unchecked around them, brushing the hair out of her eyes and nearly drenched from the sweet entertainment of the child near her; that was how she spent the rest of her afternoon. Her worries passed and her mind reassured.

∞

"Well, looks like they're happy to see us."

"Looks like," Din finished as he spotted the celebratory faces of the villagers. 

Din Djarin had been involved in a short conflict with an ex-shock trooper called Cara Dune. He had mistaken her for a bounty-hunter after him and the child, when in fact she had arrived on Sorgan as an early-retirement. She was a warrior from her looks itself; the toned arms, the look of confidence in her broad face and her hair trimmed short. 

Two krill farmers in the neighbouring village had convinced him to defend their tribe from a gang of Klatoonian raiders, and he knew it wasn't a one-man mission. And child. 

He had requested Dune for assistance on the commission, giving her the credits the farmers had provided him and soon, accompanied him for round two of their unfinished skirmish. 

"Alright, I'm gonna go find myself something to drink," Cara patted his shoulder and ambled off in the direction of the village's canteen. The woman seemed to love her nutrition, always eating and filling her belly.

He spotted the child amongst a group of children, one rushing from behind him with a loud laugh and making a funny face at someone behind him. While the child continued to entertain the lot with his coos and babbles, he knew this situation was worth watching. 

"You're too slow!"

"We'll see about that," a suave voice laughed along, footsteps getting closer. 

When the Mandalorian heard Myra's voice, the protrusive twinge had been extinguished. Less than a week has passed between them and yet she was never the fleeting memory. Like an ingrained emotion in his head, she had stayed and stayed—somehow managing to put his distant sentiments on hyperdrive. 

Myra looked different. She was no longer a shining gold emblem of power, losing her gold ornaments and silk dresses for a tattered cotton dress. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. Her skirt was bunched into one hand as she swooped the little girl into her arms with a large smile that he had strangely come to miss. 

In that fraction of a second, his own face pulled up to a small smile and the world between them falling into dust. Their dispute was long forgotten, his feet leading to her form beside the young girl. 

On the inside, he revoked all the words that he had said to her, everything he did to hurt her and kenning those as a take on his absurd vulnerabilities. There was so much he wanted to say and he was afraid that it would sound hollow so he let his mouth run unchecked with a hum.

Myra's golden gaze had merged with the Mandalorian helmet, her brilliant smile dropping faster than a corpse wearing cement boots. She swiftly looked to the squirming little girl in arms, managing to force a smile on her face and letting her join the fun.

"Myra."

Myra never said anything, taking a slow step back in disbelief. Her full lips pressed into a thin line, looking away with a scoff.

"You speak my name now, Mandalorian?"

He didn't have an answer—he really didn't. It had come out unbridled like the rest of his thoughts to the witch. He gulped down a restless motion to touch her.

"I still had your fob," he muttered. 

"Why did you even try to find me?" She asked, her darkened gaze snapping to his in an instant. And just as soon it bequeathed to the ground, rubbing a hand into her temples. Her gaze wavered to something that caught her attention behind Din, widening her eyes in horror.

"You didn't—" She faltered with her words while looking at the child, her gaze equal parts mortified and relieved. "But the baby—"

"I couldn't leave it there," he stated with a sigh. "So I escaped with it. And came here to lay low."

All the while, Myra strived to never look at him. With a slow shake of her head, she turned to leave. Figuring the conversation could only go so much further.

"Wait."

"I'd rather leave," she scoffed, trying to saunter away without paying heed to his plea. "I need to get going anyway."

"Myra, please—"

"Don't," she stopped him, raising a palm to stop him from coming closer. He proceeded to anyway and her slender fingers clenched together in a fist. A force slammed into him, making him stumble back with a groan.

Din's effort was endless as he tried to catch her hand before she walked away and this time. Her supple skin slid with his armour and she turned with a dark sneer. Before he could react, her knee had met his groin in full force. A painful grunt left his lips as the Beskar took most of the hit, yet the agonizing pain of getting hit in his weakest, aggravating him. 

"I was going to ask!" 

She darkly smiled. "Oh, I didn't need to read your mind to figure out that that was a lie."

"Low blow," he bit out through his teeth. It felt like someone had tensed his heart with an iron vice when she spoke those words.

"You need to leave at once, Mandalorian. The little one isn't safe here."

"That's not your call," he retorted.

"Or at least, I do."

"I won't let you leave either," he said sternly.

"Need I remind you that I am capable of teleporting souls?" She cautioned weakly, taking a step closer to him. They were a mere foot apart and even with the armour separating his skin from the atmosphere, he could feel her inviting warmth. 

"Perhaps Mustafar where you can burn yourself to hell."

Her words spewed out in anger was venomous but it didn't seem to slice through the adoration he held for her at that moment. Cloudy eyes were like molten gold, ablaze and right then, she was begging to be touched. Even her skin seemed to return to the usual colour, perhaps his presence was affecting her too.

"Are you ready to see your lodging?" A village woman spoke from behind him, glimpsing quickly at Myra with a smile. Myra had a sweet smile for her, nodding and gifting the Mandalorian with a discrete look of grim. She finally turned to leave once again, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

"So I see you've met Myra the Golden," the woman said, a smile playing on her lips and leading him towards the place of his stay. "She's pleasant for a witch."

"Oh, I met her," he said, thinking back to the power kick on his balls. He looked over his shoulder to see Myra still ambling away in the direction of the village, her bare feet leaving shimmering golden dust on its wake. 

"Pleasant, indeed."

X X X

{ HE. SAID. HER. NAME. *cries in Star Wars* I literally can't handle these two—MANDRYA IS THRIVING and let me tell you, deepika padukone was the best cast decision EVER for Myra. }