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S I X. skin of her teeth. part 1 - the promise. word count: 8502
a/n - had to break this bad boy up into two parts bc he was reaching 11000+ words! thank you for your patience. <3
translation: beroya - bounty hunter, head hunter
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YOU JOLTED AWAKE with a snort when a trail of saliva tickled the corner of your mouth. You cursed to yourself, trying to keep it to a whisper, and slipped your fingers under your helmet, wiping it from your face.
Your neck, back, and knees were killing you, possibly because of the position you were forced to stay in for stars knew how long. The compartment you sat in was still dark and cold, the blinking of a tiny white bulb on a control panel your only source of light. Through the walls you could hear the soft droning of the engines and the faint beeping of buttons, but other than that it was silent. You didn't hear any voices or orders. You didn't hear the clinking of glasses or giggles from flirtatious barmaids.
The silence was odd to you. Everywhere you'd been it was the same; a bar would be filled with the sound of laughter or conversation. An inn would echo with the sizzling of steaks in a frying pan or the pitter patter of little feet galivanting across the tile. Base Coranyth in Mos Espa would brim with the sound of zipping speeders, gonking droids, and numerous jabbering Jawas, which eagerly pursued passersby with little to no shame. Even a half-barren cargo ship would rattle with the ruckus of metal hitting metal and whatever drunken shanty its captain decided to sing.
But on the Mandalorian's ship (or whoever he may have stolen it from, you thought), there was no such noise; which would be nice, if not for the circumstances. You swore you could hear your own heart beating in your ears.
You couldn't even begin to guess how long you had been there, cowering in a cupboard like a scared little girl. A part of you didn't even want to come out; you feared the Mandalorian would easily overpower you if you made one wrong move, like making too much noise when you walk or showing yourself just as he walked by.
It had been ages since you'd last faced anyone of actual fighting prowess. It wasn't rare to get a contract for someone that was sabotaging a spice runner's operations or causing trouble for trade in a shipping settlement. But more often than not the guards were the issue; the target was usually the coward. You could only remember a couple instances where you didn't pursue your hunt: one was when you were speeding across the frozen mountain passes of Vandor and your target ran off a cliff and plummeted to what you could only assume was his death, and on Kashyyyk when the forest seemed to swallow your foe like a shadow in darkness. You didn't fret over the last one, of course; Kashyyyk is known for its dangerous wildlife, and chasing some witch into the clutches of some Wyyyschokk-infested woods was the last thing you wanted to do. You simply brought the ring she left behind and the rewards were yours to reap.
