ÂME MORTELLE, din djarin

iv. the falsities of trust

The pace of Eden's sprint quickens when she sees the Mandalorian fighting a group of Jawas upon the top of the Sandcrawler. Little to her surprise, their far greater numbers overwhelm him with ease, and he is caught out when one of their staffs slam into his chest, sending waves of agonising electricity coursing through his veins. Either unconscious or dead, Mando's body tumbles from the edge of the crawling fortress, slamming viciously into the scorching ground which lies below.

Caring little as the Sandcrawler fades into the distance, Eden and the child finally catch up with the Mandalorian, the former dropping to her knees beside the metal-clad man. Barely thinking upon her actions, she grasps the sleeve on his arm, and she is moments away from pulling it up and checking for a pulse when she hesitates. A swell of doubt clouds her mind as she remembers how he'd spoken of the dishonour that comes with removing his helmet, and she wonders if the same can be said about clothing. She discards this as the concern within her, even if it is just an ounce, wins out. Though, to be safe, she averts her gaze upon tugging his sleeve, just in case.

A small breath of relief absentmindedly escapes her lips as she finds a pulse, Eden not even realising she'd done so. Yet, this tiny spark of relief flickers as the notion of the Mandalorian merely being unconscious morphs into a thought that instils dread within her. Despite a small pang of guilt hitting her as the thought crosses her mind, it would've been much easier if the fall had brought upon the end to Mando, as it would mean she would not have to do so herself.

It's finally her chance to strike.

For a moment, Eden debates if she should merely take the child and run, leaving the man to his own devices whenever he may wake. But in doing so she'd be gifting him the upper hand of stealth, for when he awakens and finds the bounty gone, he'd track her down, and she would not know when his attack may come. And without a ship, the possibilities of her escaping before he finds her are slim.

A pang of guilt strikes down upon her heart as she unsheaths her blaster, raising it to the man who lies defenceless upon the sand. She directs the aim of her weapon toward his neck, one of the few parts of his body left unprotected by the impenetrable metal. The brewing of hesitance within her slows her actions down, yet does not halt them entirely. As her gloved finger brushes over the cold metal of the trigger, she pauses, carefully watching him for any movement, yet finding none. Gradually conjuring the will to do what she believes she must to preserve her own life, Eden finally goes to pull the trigger, but finds herself freezing mid-action as a small coo echoes out from beside her.

A lump of suppressed emotion arising within her throat, her gaze shifts toward the child. The tiny creature watches her with wide-eyes, a shimmer of sadness emerging through the usual innocence in which it's pupils bear. Though without the life experience to know the true intentions of the woman's actions, it could sense the inner turmoil that brews within her, the overwhelming guilt that she holds within her heart bringing tears to the eyes of the child; the sight of which nearly shatters Eden's heart entirely.

The hesitance she'd desperately pushed away peaks as she holds the child's gaze, the will to go through with her actions dissipating; slipping through her fingers despite her attempts to hold on. With her heart dropping in her chest, the aim of her blaster falters, her hands shaking faintly. Tearing her eyes away from the child, no longer able to bear the sight of its tearful stare, her gaze falls to the ground. Her heart engaging in a battle against her head, the former prevails, and the weapon slips from her hand, clanking as it hits the sand below.