ÂME MORTELLE, din djarin

xviii. one of the same

"A Mandalorian?"

The vague surprise that is woven within the man's curious words catches Eden by surprise. He had spoken the title with such weight, yet the term was unfamiliar to her. She quirks a single brow in his direction, a hoarse mutter escaping her dry throat. "A what?"

"They're part of some dead religion. They pride themselves on their 'code', which is bullshit if you ask me. Once you start killing for a living, we're all the same," Mayfield scoffs, shaking his head in a silent distaste to the high regards in which the Mandalorians hold themselves to. Shifting his body weight to the side closest to Eden, his arm outstretched toward her, his hand offered to her. "The name's Mayfeld."

A distrust brews within the pits of Eden's stomach as she stares upon the man's hand, caution weaved within her hardened gaze. Her mind weighs up her options, seeking if it would be in her best interest to accept the welcoming gesture of the man. In a profession that often left you with choices resulting in your life or death, a name carried a burdening weight. Despite this all, the notion that he had helped her, without a reason known to her, sways her to meet his grasp; shaking his hand. "Eden."

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

With the illuminance of the galaxy's every last star, an everlasting anger burns within Eden Abren's eyes. Scrawled across her hardened features is a void of emotion, the wraith of her heated gaze piercing those who fall victim to her mistrust. Her skin bristles joyously beneath the cool metal of her dagger's blade; never once allowing it to flee her grasps. An eerie silence had long overcome the ship's hull in which they linger, a tension hanging on the shoulders of all - threatening to push them over the edge at any moment. It suffocates them all, except Din and Zero, who had yet to leave the cockpit.

"Calm down." The tauntingly melodic words of Mayfeld threaten to shatter the already frayed thread of calmness that Eden so desperately clung to. Her gaze shoots to him within a moment, the anger within the pits of her stomach agonisingly bubbling as their eyes meet; a smug grin plastered across his features. In a manner that had grown sickeningly familiar, Mayfeld raises his hands in false surrender. "We're not looking to fight ya, Kid."

"You're always looking for a fight, old man."

"Last we met, you tried to kill me."

"Oh, so the girl can fight." A scratchy giggle crawls from the depths of Xi'an's throat, the high-pitched words alike to the screeching of Toca-Cat within the ears of Eden. The slender fingers of the Twi'lek twirl a sharpened dagger, her eyes ever locked upon the other woman within the hull; a lust for blood ablaze within her stare. A feigned pout flashing across her features, she tilts her head mockingly, speaking the same way you would to a child. "Oh baby, what upset you?"

Eden's already aflame blood boils, the false sympathy crawling beneath her skin with ease. Offering not the courtesy of even a brief response, Eden's gaze meanders toward Mayfeld, arching a single, challenging brow. Mayfeld matches her gesture, not wavering beneath the weight of her stare. "She couldn't deal with the guilt of working with an ex-Imperial."

"That's a simple way to put it." A scoff ripples from Eden's throat, the woman barely able to believe the horrid explanation. "You pretended to be my partner. You sat there, all high and mighty, as I told you how your people fucked everything up." Eden's voice softly trails off before muttering the word people, hesitant of offering them even the smallest shred of respect through that label. Continuing, a dry laugh scrapes off her tongue. "Not to mention I found out by myself. Guess you couldn't help but lie, huh? Must be in your nature."