c h a n a
Junior Member
here it is! i'll get to working on my starter soon.
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c h a n a
Junior Member
omera | 35
farmer on sorgan
omera plunged the hard wicker basket back underwater, her hands trembling as they submerged into the cold. her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows and her arms were uncomfortably wet. she'd been wading for at least three hours, farming krill like no tomorrow. for a second, she wished there wasn't a tomorrow if it meant fishing for more damn krill. this had been her life, interspersed with special things like getting married, having winta, and, she didn't want to admit it, but meeting that warrior too. she'd never learned his name she she couldn't think of him in particular terms. even his face was off limits, but omera still thought of him at night. at night when she laid beside her daughter and heard the familiar even breaths of sleep, she'd get up and sit outside, looking up at the stars and imagining he was out there. it was silly and wishful for her to imagine he'd return. omera comforted herself by thinking of how her late husband would want her to focus on their daughter, or how that mandalorian was probably not as good of a guy as she wanted him to be. truth be told, there was a lot she didn't know about his life.
"mama, look what i got!"
her hanfs tightened around the basket just as she began to pull it up. her senses were immediately alerted to her daughter, but omera hesitated to look. winta was an independent child for the most part but it didn't mean she wasn't distracting sometimes. omera internally rejoiced at the opportunity to pay attention to something else.
when omera turned to look she was presented with winta a few feet away on the shore with hand outstretched. clamped between two fingers was an earthworm, struggling to be free. omera unconsciously made a face of mild disgust and then raised her brows, feigning interest.
"that's very nice, baby. make sure you put him back in the dirt, okay?" omera flashed a smile but her face was weary. the tug of exhaustion pulled at her bones, but she didn't let her expression relax until she had turned back to the basket. the soreness in her arms had grown so strong that as she hauled the fresh krill onto shore, she couldn't help but give a grunt, and then let them fall to her sides, limp in the water.
farmer on sorgan
omera plunged the hard wicker basket back underwater, her hands trembling as they submerged into the cold. her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows and her arms were uncomfortably wet. she'd been wading for at least three hours, farming krill like no tomorrow. for a second, she wished there wasn't a tomorrow if it meant fishing for more damn krill. this had been her life, interspersed with special things like getting married, having winta, and, she didn't want to admit it, but meeting that warrior too. she'd never learned his name she she couldn't think of him in particular terms. even his face was off limits, but omera still thought of him at night. at night when she laid beside her daughter and heard the familiar even breaths of sleep, she'd get up and sit outside, looking up at the stars and imagining he was out there. it was silly and wishful for her to imagine he'd return. omera comforted herself by thinking of how her late husband would want her to focus on their daughter, or how that mandalorian was probably not as good of a guy as she wanted him to be. truth be told, there was a lot she didn't know about his life.
"mama, look what i got!"
her hanfs tightened around the basket just as she began to pull it up. her senses were immediately alerted to her daughter, but omera hesitated to look. winta was an independent child for the most part but it didn't mean she wasn't distracting sometimes. omera internally rejoiced at the opportunity to pay attention to something else.
when omera turned to look she was presented with winta a few feet away on the shore with hand outstretched. clamped between two fingers was an earthworm, struggling to be free. omera unconsciously made a face of mild disgust and then raised her brows, feigning interest.
"that's very nice, baby. make sure you put him back in the dirt, okay?" omera flashed a smile but her face was weary. the tug of exhaustion pulled at her bones, but she didn't let her expression relax until she had turned back to the basket. the soreness in her arms had grown so strong that as she hauled the fresh krill onto shore, she couldn't help but give a grunt, and then let them fall to her sides, limp in the water.
chandrila
New Member
DIN DJARIN / Mandalorian bounty hunter
//////////
//////////
The navicomputer blinked as it finished its calculations.
"What do you think?"
The Mandalorian turned to look at the foundling sitting in the co-pilot seat. He stared back, eyes wide and alert.
"You could see your friends."
He distinctly remembered the first time he had heard the child laugh. He'd been playing with the other children on Sorgan, and though in appearance he stuck out like Bantha horns, the young villagers had treated him like one of their own.
That was the kind of life he deserved.
He was no longer a walking target, but the Mandalorian ran risks everyday just to survive, to earn enough credits to travel the galaxy in search of the child's kin — a quest on which he had made no progress so far.
The Mandalorian sighed.
He was exhausted. Besides, the Crest needed repairs. Nothing he couldn't handle; he just needed a place to lay low for a while.
When he turned to look at the baby he realized the little womp rat had left his seat. Before he could mess with the controls, the Mandalorian picked him up, sat him on his lap, and set course to Sorgan.
//////////
As soon as the Crest entered the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian's mind filled with doubts. The villagers had made it clear that he and the kid would always be welcome here yet he couldn't help but feel like he shouldn't have come back.
There was a door in his heart that he kept closed, separating the Mandalorian bounty hunter he'd become from whatever remained of Din Djarin. Hearing his name spoken by Moff Gideon after years of keeping this information locked away had shaken him; but weeks before that, on Sorgan, he'd dared to think about Din, too. He'd dared to imagine a world where he grew up to lead an ordinary life, to picture a future where he could be happy and let time wash away the blood on his hands.
He had looked into Omera's eyes and seen what Din Djarin could have been and walked away.
It's not that he didn't want to be on Sorgan. It's that he wanted to, and it scared him.
The verdant surface came into view, and the Mandalorian cursed himself internally — it was too late for second thoughts. Besides, he was only doing what was best for the kid.
He decided to land the Crest near the village this time. Krill farmers looked up as he flew over. They didn't know what his ship looked like save for the two men who had hired him on his previous visit. They had reason to be on alert given the raids they had suffered, which meant he had to approach with caution. Beside him, the child started to show signs of agitation as he realized where they had landed.
"You stay here," the Mandalorian told him as he got up from his seat. "Alright? Just gotta make sure they recognized us, then you can come out. For now... Don't move." He pointed firmly at the kid before leaving the cockpit, resisting the urge to look behind him.
He lowered the ship's ramp, let the warm air in. He'd been through hell since his last visit — had almost lost the child, almost died — yet Sorgan remained the same, like suspended in time. He couldn't make out individual faces from where he stood, but there was a bustle of confusion and then...
A bunch of children ran towards the Razor Crest. Din looked down. The little green child was already waddling happily off the ship as fast as his legs could carry him.
c h a n a
Junior Member
omera | 35
farmer on sorgan
she could feel the sun beginning to set by the way it's warmth
hit her square in the back. it was a comfort as the wind picked
up. omera closed her eyes in that moment, savoring the incoming evening despite her aching bones and obligation to tend to winta. though she was fine as it was, omera knew she'd be hearing plenty later about her adventures with the other kids. lord, did she love that child, but sometimes omera needed a break. a break from everything, actually.
she drew in breath and noted the chill running down her throat in doing so. the cold season was nearing and that was why the whole village seemed to be scrambling to harvest. the krill never truly stopped reproducing, but those little water-dwellers weren't fond of a temperature change. at least the flavor would come out smooth and crisp instead of it's present heavy brine-- off putting for even the biggest spotchka-lovers. as she lifted herself up and out onto the bank the unmistakable sound of engines sounded overhead. the distant whirring soon turned into a great roar that was accompanied by a foreign ship that seemed headed for the nearby field. omera was thrown into alarm, thinking it was someone intent on doing damage. though they'd driven off the klatoonian raiders weeks before, there was no telling what other adversaries might descend on them next.
"winta!" omera stumbled to a stand and began to run, hiking up her skirt, still heavy and damp as her eyes darted in every direction. several other farmers did the same, not willing to wait until it was too late to call their kids over. "win--" she rounded a hut and the ship came into view. several other villagers had even approached to greet the stranger.
"mama!"
omera's heart might have well dropped into her stomach if it weren't for her daughter coming into view, pointing excitedly towards the now opened landing ramp. at the girl's reaction she understood that there was nothing to be afraid of, and instead slowed to a stop at her side. omera tried to stifle the obvious panicked breaths which eventually faded into normalcy. she was so used to having to leap into action that even the little things could set her off. through the haze of the afternoon sun omera made out an armor-clad figure in that familiar silhouette; her heart picking up the pace in her disbelief. for several beats she just stood there, hands at her sides, head tilted and perplexed. why had he come back?
omera couldn't make herself move. she didn't know whether to throw herself into his arms or stay there. in fact, the rush of it all made her want to hide, and she tensed her muscles in hopes that the urge to run would fade. nope. the woman took a tentative step, and then another. her heart beat hard enough to feel like it was working it's way into her throat, and her hands trembled. this time it wasn't from the cold. as the throng of villagers came to greet him she was left on the outer edge, now waiting with bated breath.
farmer on sorgan
she could feel the sun beginning to set by the way it's warmth
hit her square in the back. it was a comfort as the wind picked
up. omera closed her eyes in that moment, savoring the incoming evening despite her aching bones and obligation to tend to winta. though she was fine as it was, omera knew she'd be hearing plenty later about her adventures with the other kids. lord, did she love that child, but sometimes omera needed a break. a break from everything, actually.
she drew in breath and noted the chill running down her throat in doing so. the cold season was nearing and that was why the whole village seemed to be scrambling to harvest. the krill never truly stopped reproducing, but those little water-dwellers weren't fond of a temperature change. at least the flavor would come out smooth and crisp instead of it's present heavy brine-- off putting for even the biggest spotchka-lovers. as she lifted herself up and out onto the bank the unmistakable sound of engines sounded overhead. the distant whirring soon turned into a great roar that was accompanied by a foreign ship that seemed headed for the nearby field. omera was thrown into alarm, thinking it was someone intent on doing damage. though they'd driven off the klatoonian raiders weeks before, there was no telling what other adversaries might descend on them next.
"winta!" omera stumbled to a stand and began to run, hiking up her skirt, still heavy and damp as her eyes darted in every direction. several other farmers did the same, not willing to wait until it was too late to call their kids over. "win--" she rounded a hut and the ship came into view. several other villagers had even approached to greet the stranger.
"mama!"
omera's heart might have well dropped into her stomach if it weren't for her daughter coming into view, pointing excitedly towards the now opened landing ramp. at the girl's reaction she understood that there was nothing to be afraid of, and instead slowed to a stop at her side. omera tried to stifle the obvious panicked breaths which eventually faded into normalcy. she was so used to having to leap into action that even the little things could set her off. through the haze of the afternoon sun omera made out an armor-clad figure in that familiar silhouette; her heart picking up the pace in her disbelief. for several beats she just stood there, hands at her sides, head tilted and perplexed. why had he come back?
omera couldn't make herself move. she didn't know whether to throw herself into his arms or stay there. in fact, the rush of it all made her want to hide, and she tensed her muscles in hopes that the urge to run would fade. nope. the woman took a tentative step, and then another. her heart beat hard enough to feel like it was working it's way into her throat, and her hands trembled. this time it wasn't from the cold. as the throng of villagers came to greet him she was left on the outer edge, now waiting with bated breath.
Last edited:
chandrila
New Member
The Mandalorian didn't move at first, content to watch the child reunite with his friends, to hear him laugh again. His uncertainties vanished in an instant. The child was happy. The child was safe. Nothing else mattered.
He took a deep breath before walking down the ramp, ready to brave the villagers' effusive welcome. He was immediately met by a pat on the back from Caben, flanked by Stoke as always.
"Mando! We knew you would come back," Caben grinned, ignoring Stoke's confused "we did?"
The two farmers seemingly had no concept of personal space, but the Mandalorian knew they meant well. It was strange, being welcomed with smiles and open arms. Not the kind of reaction he usually incited.
"You can stay for as long as you want," Caben continued, walking with his arm around the Mandalorian's shoulders as if they were old friends. "You'll always be welcome here. You saved our lives."
"Wait," Stoke interrupted, "didn't you have a horde of bounty hunters after you? One of them followed you here..." Caben elbowed him, cutting him off.
But that was a valid concern. The Mandalorian stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Stoke.
"That's been taken care of," he said.
Caben slowly removed his arm from the bounty hunter. The two farmers went quiet, staring at him in awe. That was more the kind of reaction he was used to.
"That's good to hear," Caben finally said when he realized the Mandalorian didn't intend to elaborate, forcing a nervous laugh.
As they walked the farmers kept rambling, but the Mandalorian wasn't listening. He hadn't come back for anyone, or so he told himself, yet he couldn't deny his disappointment when he didn't see Omera in the small crowd that had gathered around his ship. At first he assumed the worst— but Winta was here, and she looked fine.
If Omera didn't want to see him, he understood.
But then a familiar silhouette came into view. She took a few tentative steps towards the Crest but stood back, her expression unreadable.
"Caben," the Mandalorian said, but the man kept talking. "Caben." His voice was more authoritative this time, prompting the farmer to stop. "Thank you." He got the hint, and he and Stoke walked away, leaving the Mandalorian with his thoughts.
Each step he took brought him closer to Omera, his mind racing with hollow explanations and echoes of their last conversation. When he finally faced her, he was at a loss for words. He felt strangely exposed; her gaze, sad and tender, had a disconcerting tendency to pierce through his mask. After a moment, he spoke.
"It's... good to see you."
That, too, felt hollow, although it was true. It hadn't been that long since he'd left, and yet he felt as though a lifetime had passed.
He took a deep breath before walking down the ramp, ready to brave the villagers' effusive welcome. He was immediately met by a pat on the back from Caben, flanked by Stoke as always.
"Mando! We knew you would come back," Caben grinned, ignoring Stoke's confused "we did?"
The two farmers seemingly had no concept of personal space, but the Mandalorian knew they meant well. It was strange, being welcomed with smiles and open arms. Not the kind of reaction he usually incited.
"You can stay for as long as you want," Caben continued, walking with his arm around the Mandalorian's shoulders as if they were old friends. "You'll always be welcome here. You saved our lives."
"Wait," Stoke interrupted, "didn't you have a horde of bounty hunters after you? One of them followed you here..." Caben elbowed him, cutting him off.
But that was a valid concern. The Mandalorian stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Stoke.
"That's been taken care of," he said.
Caben slowly removed his arm from the bounty hunter. The two farmers went quiet, staring at him in awe. That was more the kind of reaction he was used to.
"That's good to hear," Caben finally said when he realized the Mandalorian didn't intend to elaborate, forcing a nervous laugh.
As they walked the farmers kept rambling, but the Mandalorian wasn't listening. He hadn't come back for anyone, or so he told himself, yet he couldn't deny his disappointment when he didn't see Omera in the small crowd that had gathered around his ship. At first he assumed the worst— but Winta was here, and she looked fine.
If Omera didn't want to see him, he understood.
But then a familiar silhouette came into view. She took a few tentative steps towards the Crest but stood back, her expression unreadable.
"Caben," the Mandalorian said, but the man kept talking. "Caben." His voice was more authoritative this time, prompting the farmer to stop. "Thank you." He got the hint, and he and Stoke walked away, leaving the Mandalorian with his thoughts.
Each step he took brought him closer to Omera, his mind racing with hollow explanations and echoes of their last conversation. When he finally faced her, he was at a loss for words. He felt strangely exposed; her gaze, sad and tender, had a disconcerting tendency to pierce through his mask. After a moment, he spoke.
"It's... good to see you."
That, too, felt hollow, although it was true. It hadn't been that long since he'd left, and yet he felt as though a lifetime had passed.
c h a n a
Junior Member
omera | 35
farmer
omera's gaze wavered. her eyes were watery, apparent by the shine they took on when she moved; glints of orange light weaving into her irises. for a moment she just listened. her hands, clasped below her waist, twiddled nervously. she didn't know why exactly she was beciming emotional. if she sat down and thought about it, she'd find that the feeling of longing towards the helmeted man in front of her was the same longing she felt towards her dead husband. though he was long gone, she still felt the pangs of grief now and then. for some reason as she peered through mando's tinted visor she understood his intentions. he hadn't meant to hurt her by leaving, but it stung regardless. omera's mind was battling between her heart and her thoughts. she wanted to be mad at him for leaving, but the joy of seeing him, tinged with sorrow, was enough to override it.
finally she sighed and nodded slowly. curtly. "it's... nice to see you, too, mando." she swayes back and forth once on her feet. she felt idle and full of nervous energy; not wanting to waste a moment in stillness.
"I," omera began, gesturing towards the cluster of huts, "can have you stay with us. right now your quarters are a mess-- we're preparing for the off season." omera flashed a smile. the warmth in her gaze was like gold underwater. "i can have some of the men clear it out before nightfall."
farmer
omera's gaze wavered. her eyes were watery, apparent by the shine they took on when she moved; glints of orange light weaving into her irises. for a moment she just listened. her hands, clasped below her waist, twiddled nervously. she didn't know why exactly she was beciming emotional. if she sat down and thought about it, she'd find that the feeling of longing towards the helmeted man in front of her was the same longing she felt towards her dead husband. though he was long gone, she still felt the pangs of grief now and then. for some reason as she peered through mando's tinted visor she understood his intentions. he hadn't meant to hurt her by leaving, but it stung regardless. omera's mind was battling between her heart and her thoughts. she wanted to be mad at him for leaving, but the joy of seeing him, tinged with sorrow, was enough to override it.
finally she sighed and nodded slowly. curtly. "it's... nice to see you, too, mando." she swayes back and forth once on her feet. she felt idle and full of nervous energy; not wanting to waste a moment in stillness.
"I," omera began, gesturing towards the cluster of huts, "can have you stay with us. right now your quarters are a mess-- we're preparing for the off season." omera flashed a smile. the warmth in her gaze was like gold underwater. "i can have some of the men clear it out before nightfall."
chandrila
New Member
The Mandalorian's effortless confidence from just a few moments before gave way to a nervous energy hidden underneath the beskar, the intensity with which Omera's emotions affected him surprising him.
"Thank you."
He had expected Omera and her people to treat him with more kindness than he probably deserved; nonetheless he didn't take their hospitality for granted. There weren't many places in the galaxy where he felt welcome, especially since his clan...
"If it's too much trouble," he said, looking towards the Razor Crest, suppressing a painful memory, "I don't mind staying on the ship."
"Thank you."
He had expected Omera and her people to treat him with more kindness than he probably deserved; nonetheless he didn't take their hospitality for granted. There weren't many places in the galaxy where he felt welcome, especially since his clan...
"If it's too much trouble," he said, looking towards the Razor Crest, suppressing a painful memory, "I don't mind staying on the ship."
c h a n a
Junior Member
omera | 35
farmer
she didn't want to turn him down after giving the offer. though his ship would do for one night she doubted it was as comfortable as a bed would be; the fresh air and fire going nearby. even if she would have to win over the men into moving 3 months worth of crates out of the way. as these thoughts occupied omera's mind, her gaze unintentionally drifted to the ground. she'd forgotten to keep up a pleasant visage, when a friend passed, giving omera a knowing smile. omera raised her brows in reply, turning towards the other woman slightly and extending a friendly hand as she passed.
"tilla, could you ask caben and stoke to clear some stuff in my spare room? I..." she gestured towards the mandalorian in front of her and when the other woman nodded enthusiatically she let a pleasant smile slip over her features. truthfully, she didn't feel so happy, but omera didn't want to make him feel bad.
"would you like to take a walk?" she simultaneously turned a bit to the side, effectively opening up a place beside herself where he was welcome to join. if mando agreed, omera would begin to walk towards the treeline, where a footpath was visible going all the way into the forest.
farmer
she didn't want to turn him down after giving the offer. though his ship would do for one night she doubted it was as comfortable as a bed would be; the fresh air and fire going nearby. even if she would have to win over the men into moving 3 months worth of crates out of the way. as these thoughts occupied omera's mind, her gaze unintentionally drifted to the ground. she'd forgotten to keep up a pleasant visage, when a friend passed, giving omera a knowing smile. omera raised her brows in reply, turning towards the other woman slightly and extending a friendly hand as she passed.
"tilla, could you ask caben and stoke to clear some stuff in my spare room? I..." she gestured towards the mandalorian in front of her and when the other woman nodded enthusiatically she let a pleasant smile slip over her features. truthfully, she didn't feel so happy, but omera didn't want to make him feel bad.
"would you like to take a walk?" she simultaneously turned a bit to the side, effectively opening up a place beside herself where he was welcome to join. if mando agreed, omera would begin to walk towards the treeline, where a footpath was visible going all the way into the forest.
chandrila
New Member
The Mandalorian thought to offer Omera's friend his help in getting the room ready, but the young widow's invitation to go for a walk caught him off guard, leaving him speechless before he had the chance to volunteer.
"I.."
His instinct told him to come up with an excuse but he found himself unable to do so. He wasn't sure why he found the prospect of spending time with Omera so daunting. There were many things he wanted to tell her and many more he couldn't, but he had never been very good with words.
He looked around in search of the child, still frolicking with the other younglings. No bounty hunter would find him now — the Mandalorian made sure of that — yet he couldn't bear to keep the kid out of his sight even for the briefest moment. What if he couldn't prevent some unforeseen danger? What if he wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough to protect the foundling in his care? The awareness that his fears were unfounded wasn't enough to stop them from clouding his mind. The child was all he had. He couldn't lose him too.
Still, he had brought the kid to Sorgan precisely because it was the safest place he knew. He had even pondered leaving him here while he undertook a few jobs — the child ran far more risks traveling with him. The Mandalorian would just have to learn to trust this place and its people... Easier said than done, but he had to start somewhere.
He sighed. Then he looked back at Omera.
"Of course."
He took a few steps closer until he stood by her side, shooting one last glance at the child before his gaze settled on Omera. She was putting up a facade, he could tell; not wearing a mask of beskar but one of pretense. Yet she wouldn't want to spend time with him if she was unhappy to see him, would she?
"Looks like the community is rebuilding well," the Mandalorian said, trying to ease the awkward tension between them.
"I.."
His instinct told him to come up with an excuse but he found himself unable to do so. He wasn't sure why he found the prospect of spending time with Omera so daunting. There were many things he wanted to tell her and many more he couldn't, but he had never been very good with words.
He looked around in search of the child, still frolicking with the other younglings. No bounty hunter would find him now — the Mandalorian made sure of that — yet he couldn't bear to keep the kid out of his sight even for the briefest moment. What if he couldn't prevent some unforeseen danger? What if he wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough to protect the foundling in his care? The awareness that his fears were unfounded wasn't enough to stop them from clouding his mind. The child was all he had. He couldn't lose him too.
Still, he had brought the kid to Sorgan precisely because it was the safest place he knew. He had even pondered leaving him here while he undertook a few jobs — the child ran far more risks traveling with him. The Mandalorian would just have to learn to trust this place and its people... Easier said than done, but he had to start somewhere.
He sighed. Then he looked back at Omera.
"Of course."
He took a few steps closer until he stood by her side, shooting one last glance at the child before his gaze settled on Omera. She was putting up a facade, he could tell; not wearing a mask of beskar but one of pretense. Yet she wouldn't want to spend time with him if she was unhappy to see him, would she?
"Looks like the community is rebuilding well," the Mandalorian said, trying to ease the awkward tension between them.
c h a n a
Junior Member
omera understood his hesitation. he'd only just arrived and he wasn't used to being more than, what, 5 feet away from the child at all times? omera had had a similar thing with winta, especially when she'd started to walk. omera had learned to trust that the others would keep an eye out, but the sentiment remained, especially regarding the threat of raiders.
as he came to stand beside her she noted internally their height difference. she was on the taller side for a woman, but he still dwarfed her by about 5 inches. like a maiden she fixated on things like these. height, build, voice... omera truly was starved of male attention even if this was just a walk. she'd just have to keep calm and enjoy things for what they were, at least for the time being.
they began to walk and omera unclasped her hands from her middle, letting them rest at her sides. it was a small but needed gesture of relaxation. maybe it was the way the sun burned orange through the trees and warmed the expanse of land before it. or perhaps it was just him. she hated to admit it but now that they were alone she'd softened a bit. her intitial anxieties were prone to melt, which would at least not drive him away. omera wondered if anything she did could do that, considering he'd returned after his adventures. really, how many hot, brave, energetic women were there in the galaxy? why had he chosen this place? why come back to her? omera almost didn't respond, being lost in her thoughts, when she remembered he'd said something. she nodded sincerely; hints of genuine thankfulness present in her gaze.
"We are. We actually had a small break after you left. It was like we could finally relax." She exhaled as she said this, running a hand through her still-damp hair and moving to massage an aching arm as she walked. "Now it's back to business, though. At least for another week until the end of harvest season."
as he came to stand beside her she noted internally their height difference. she was on the taller side for a woman, but he still dwarfed her by about 5 inches. like a maiden she fixated on things like these. height, build, voice... omera truly was starved of male attention even if this was just a walk. she'd just have to keep calm and enjoy things for what they were, at least for the time being.
they began to walk and omera unclasped her hands from her middle, letting them rest at her sides. it was a small but needed gesture of relaxation. maybe it was the way the sun burned orange through the trees and warmed the expanse of land before it. or perhaps it was just him. she hated to admit it but now that they were alone she'd softened a bit. her intitial anxieties were prone to melt, which would at least not drive him away. omera wondered if anything she did could do that, considering he'd returned after his adventures. really, how many hot, brave, energetic women were there in the galaxy? why had he chosen this place? why come back to her? omera almost didn't respond, being lost in her thoughts, when she remembered he'd said something. she nodded sincerely; hints of genuine thankfulness present in her gaze.
"We are. We actually had a small break after you left. It was like we could finally relax." She exhaled as she said this, running a hand through her still-damp hair and moving to massage an aching arm as she walked. "Now it's back to business, though. At least for another week until the end of harvest season."
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