010. LEAVE A MARK ON

( —To have a lasting effect on someone or something or to affect the behaviour and performance of another person. )

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The human mind was the most beautiful when it was at ease; devoid of thoughts, confusions or uncertainties. 

Myra realized it had been a whole fifteen minutes of gawking at the resting Mandalorian. But, she didn't just look—she was understanding. His features were lighter in his sleep, the lines that creased around his mouth and brows softened to give off a friendly eloquence. His heart had continued to beat in synchrony with his slow, shallow breaths and his consciousness walked in the land of dreams, oblivious to the physical world. 

She wished she could dream again. To fall asleep in the blanket of darkness and wake up to an ocean of light, or to curl up into the curve of another's body and wake up with a soft kiss to start off her day. But, she hadn't been too fortunate. 

"What are you thinking about?" She muttered in a soft breath, rolling on her side in wonder. His earthy brown eyes were shut from her sight, but she could see the harvest colours surge in his visions. Warmth enveloped her heart when she heard her own laugh, an image of her tattoo flash across his mind and making her bite her lip to fight off laughter. 

Myra knew she couldn't stay, as much as wanted to. She was already supposed to be boarding a convoy that would take her to a planet termed Naboo a few days ago. She hadn't expected Din Djarin to spin a delicate twist to her plans, but this was necessary.

The queen of Naboo wanted to scry. The royal couple had been without a child for a decade now and hoped to meet with someone who could look through the course of events for some form of resolution. She had jumped to accept the offer—hence the summoning of the Guild and the bounty-hunting. If she had to leave the planet, she had to crack the plan under her father's nose and finally, she had. 

And furthermore, in exchange for scrying, she had requested them a trip to their archives. Her mentor had mentioned antique books that belonged to the ancestor witches, the Nightsisters, taking refuge in the depths of Naboo until this day. Of course, in all curiosity, she had traded the request which they had thankfully accepted.

When she saw the golden light of dawn breaking through the rosy glow through the illuminated clouds, she knew it was time to leave.

She dressed quick, opting for her usual attire with a relieved smile. The champagne gold satin fit her like a second skin, moving through her body with a soft slither. The tattoos stood out boldly once again, pulling her hair into a dense weave down to the lune of her back. She adorned gold embellishments once again, chuckling when she slid on the Beskar steel bracelet that was a gift from the Jawas. 

Her gaze fell on the still asleep Mandalorian, making her purse her lips in frustration. Once again, she was in a conflict of leaving, how she would never get to be the first thing he sees in the morning. 

A lazy eye, still lingering in the land of dreams, flickered open quietly and a sleepy grumble left his lips. Side of his perfect lips lifted when he saw her, a slack hand holding hers. "Hi."

"Hi," she called softly. His mind was a haze of fantasies, a swirling gold, silver and raging black that bled between his sight. He was still oblivious to her conflict. 

"Creep," he mumbled. "Watchin' me sleep."

"It's hard not to. Your dreams seem to sing a song just for me."

"That is so... weird." But so sexy, she heard him think. 

She bit down a smile and scuttled closer to him. His warmth called to her, like a penumbra from reality or a beacon she could return to. She could tell who her Mandalorian was without her vision now. His heart, his warmth, even the tone of his breath seemed to summon to her. It was delightful to know she'd have a home with him. 

Her lips met the space between his eyes affectionately, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes, smothering a humming laugh. Her slim finger traced down the depth if his nose. 

"Rest," she muttered quietly, her voice barely hitting syllables. "You need it."

"I need you." With her heart in her mouth after his words, she rested her forehead against his as delicately as possible to not wake him and when he let out a soft hum in his sleep, she was most certain of not leaving.

"Tell me to stay," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please."

Of course, he didn't respond. He was once again fast asleep, the breaths fanning her face softly. Her heart was aflutter, taking a moment to watch him again. But, what if he's hurt? What if she's gone too long? What if she never finds him again? 

"No, you stupid witch," she said to herself sternly. "You need this. This is important."

Her eyes wavered to him again, running a tense hand through her hair. She tapped her feet impatiently, trying to find some grey area between her decision. She looked to the helmet in haste, striking an idea in her head. 

Unhooking the chain from her neck, she let it rest next to his helmet and penned down a note to let him know of her sudden absence. She smiled when she thought of how this was another first for her, shaking her head in amusement. 

One last look and, Myra was out the door—frustrated and unhesitant. 

The grass was soft on her soles, warm to the eyes and pleasing on the eyes. Rising dawn splashed a thousand hues on the delicate leaves, her dress catching the white asters and thistles with the wild fragility. Last night was just the same: raw yet brittle. Something about that made Myra smile, her fingers stroking where heated lips had left kisses, caressing her collar and the seam of her jaw. 

Her vision had been shattered by the whizzing of an arrow. 

The shaft had missed Myra's neck by inches, discharged to anchor onto a tree. She turned, her hands bearing defensive mists as a result of her plea from the Ichor, frazzled eyes landing on the girl that stood ahead.

 Winta dropped her bow to the side, her lips gathered to a small pout. "You're leaving."

Myra's grimace lifted to a grin. "You've gotten better."

"You taught me," she said simply.

"Indeed."

"Don't go, Myra," the little girl insisted.

"I have to," Myra replied, helpless. "Someone waits for me in the galaxy. It is essential that I leave."

Walking forward, she cradled Winta's small cheek into her slender hands and pressed a warm kiss onto the crown of her head. Myra felt her thin arms bind around her waist for an embrace and she let out a laugh, ruffling the girl's head.

"Take care of them for me?" She whispered when Winta looked up at her, sadness swimming in her dark eyes. 

"Mando's not gonna like it."

"I know."

∞

Din Djarin watched the child play with the children of the tribe. He was so much smaller than them, the others gathering around him to poke fun at his little antics. He could see that the child was happy, nonetheless, it's giggles the loudest in the field. 

An entire week had passed since Myra had left, no sign of her return at all. All that was left behind of her was the last piece of her heart, the necklace he had stowed away safely on his neck and underneath the armour. In a second, Din's brain flooded with images of her and their night together; the hum of her voice and the touch of her skin. It was as if it were yesterday.

"So, what happens when you take that thing off?" She asked, a little amused. "Do they come after you and kill you?"

The Mandalorian looked to Cara Dune who had her feet up on a chair as she sprawled lazily near the door of their temporary lounging. She was nursing a cup of tea, sniffing on it slowly and waiting for him to respond. 

"No," he answered simply. "You just can't ever put it back on again."

"That's it?" She scoffed in disbelief as if she had expected something larger. "So you can slip off the helmet, and settle down with that beautiful young widow, and raise your kid sitting here, sipping spotchka?"

The beautiful, young widow she had been referring to was the mother of the young girl that had taken a liking to Myra. He had crossed paths with the girl, asking her if she had seen Myra leave. The little girl's answer had always been the same: "You won't like it."

Damn right, he didn't. He did not like that Myra did not trust Din enough to let him know that she was leaving. To let him know that she will come back. How would she come back? How would she find him? What if the last time he got to see her was the night that had him all sorts of anticipatory?  

While Din looked at the mother as a confidant, someone had been too thoughtful about his likings and helping him fit in, Cara thought that she had grown an affinity for the woman. 

"Speaking of beautiful," she continued when she was ignored, "where's the witch?"

His heart picked up its pace strangely and he found himself looking at the forest in the distance. "I don't know."

"Really?" She smirked, sipping louder. "Seems like you guys were really shacking it up last week."

He snapped his head to hers in horror, mortified even. All he had worried about was how much she had seen, not even the fact that she had seen them together. 

"What did you see?"

"Your secret's safe with me, Mando," she winked, ridiculing him further when he had fallen for his trick and revealed it himself. "She's a winner, I'll give it to you. And I didn't see anything but as you said, word travels fast."

He let his head hang, leaning back into the wooden wall with a large sigh. A smile lifted his lips, squinting when the light of the morning hit his eyes. 

"You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks back," he mused. "It's too much action for a backwater town like this. We might wanna cycle the charts and move on."

"Would not wanna be the one who's gotta tell him," she joked weakly. 

"I'm leaving him here," he decided with a nod. "Travelling with me, that's no life for a kid. I did my job, he's safe. Better chance at life."

The child was happy here. His large green ears perked up in delight and not having to be run down in the confines of a pod; this was the life for a kid. 

"It's gonna break his little heart."

"He'll get over it," he stated relatively, seeing how he had applied it to all aspects in his situation. "We all do."

The Mandalorian spotted the mother near the playing children. He took his time to look at her; really look at her. She had the warmth to her, the maternal spin to her cryptic beauty. She had been very friendly, giving and, dare he say it, a precise shooter. But, nothing had sparked in his heart as it had been with Myra. 

Sure, Myra did not belong in a home or much less anywhere in the galaxy but that was exactly who he was. He had no place anywhere, just like her. While her heart was fixed on winning something exciting, he was looking for a way to live. To survive.

"Can I have a word?" He called to the woman who was crouched on the ground, working on pleating her basket for catching krill. She smiled, nodding and following him. He tried to think of a way to put it in simple words rather than backhanding her with a blunt fact.

"It's very nice here," he started slowly.

"Yes."

"And it's clear he's," he looked to the cooing child, "he's happy here."

"What about you?" She asked, looking at him intently. Her eyes were like his, dark and just enough light to see the moss green. But he had come to admire gold in the eyes, like phoenix catching fire before taking refuge in the round of the eyes.

"Me?"

"Are you happy here?" She requested but the Mandolarian refused to answer, not having it in his heart to say no. "We want you to stay."

This surprised him but thankfully, she continued. "The community's grateful. You can pack all this away in case there's any trouble. You and your boy could have a good life. He could be a child for a while," she trailed off, looking at the kid with a gentle smile. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

He was almost convinced. Almost. 

She looked at him, eyes full of doubt and sceptical. Her hands reached out on either side, holding his helmet as if to lift it over. He caught her wrist before she could achieve her feat.

"I don't belong here."

Embarrassed, she let her gaze stray on her feet with a nod. She glimpsed at the child again before looking up at him. "I understand. I will look after him as one of my own."

A gunshot sang a song of death before alerting the Mandalorian. He pushed the woman behind him, looking to the trees in concern. He ordered at the woman to keep the kids safe, shooting off in the direction from where the blast had come from. 

Cara stood over a cold body, smoke billowing from the laser wound of the body. She dropped her blaster, looking at the Mandalorian with the same concern. He rolled the body over, spotting a tracking fob underneath.

"Who's he tracking?"

"The kid," he stated, anger masked in his plain tone. 

"They know he's here."

He gave her a sullen nod. "Yes."

"And they'll keep coming."

"Yes."

And as of now, nowhere was safe. 

X X X

{ when myra started to feel conflicted, i speak for everyone here—

so, MYRALORIAN is happening. and i am aborad and ready to sink it *Evil laughter* }