CLARITAS. The Mandaloran/Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Part 7)
A/N: It’s been a hot minute! I had a few weeks where I felt so burned out I couldn’t get any writing accomplished… Hoping to change that in the coming weeks. Thanks for your patience!
WORDS: 2.2k || WARNINGS: None
When Elliotte awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to the familiar sight of sunlight peeking through the shades of her bedroom balcony, but to the cool and soft darkness of the Mandalorian’s ship. She sat up quickly, readjusting to her surroundings and doing her best to pat down any bed head she’d acquired throughout the course of the night.
After a few moments, she’d willed herself to stand up and reenter the main segment of the ship but before she could get much further, she heard Mando climb down from the upper level and join her in the main area.
“You’re awake,” he acknowledged, “Here. I brought you this.” He turned a small purple object over in his gloved hand and passed it to her.
Ell took it from him and couldn’t resist a smile as she recognized the familiar round shape he’d offered her. “That’s very kind of you—but why are you giving me a grange fruit?”
The Mandalorian had no response readily available to such a question, aside from a slow tilt of his helmet. Then, after a long moment of consideration, “To… eat?”
Elliotte looked back down at the fruit and nodded slowly. “I appreciate the gesture, truly. Grange fruits are… a Listronus specialty… but they are incredibly toxic. Not for eating. But… excellent medicinal properties, and the skin can be boiled into a delicious tea when mixed with some of the local flowers. Very tasty.”
“Certainly glad I didn’t try to eat it myself, then. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with the merchant who tried to pass it off as edible.”
Elliotte chuckled, scraping a fleck of dirt off of the grange fruit with her fingernail, “Try not to go too hard on ‘em. Everyone’s just trying to make a living around here—not that it excuses the selling of toxic fruits to visitors!” With a sigh, she let her arm drop to her side, “I apologize. We used to be more hospitable people.”
“You have quite a bit of knowledge about this planet… have you lived here for a long time?” Mando asked, quietly taking a seat on one of the storage containers across from her.
Ell nodded stiffly. “I’ve always lived here… This is my first time even setting foot on a ship like this! I’m impressed, I must say. All these boxes… and you said you practically live in here, right? So you must do a lot of travelling.”
“Mostly for work.”
“What do you do?”
“I used to be a bounty hunter. I guess… I still am, but I’ve got the kid now so I have more pressing matters to prioritize.”
Elliotte tried to hide the white-hot fear that coursed through her at the mention of bounty hunters. It had been a concern of hers for a long time that Listronus’s king would call for bounty hunters to shut down operations like Rhythimi’s… still, it was hard to believe that this particular Mandalorian would travel from so far for something like this. Ell felt he was being sincere… perhaps her bit of trust was misplaced, but he’d given her no reason not to believe him. “So you aren’t here looking for someone?”
“No. I’m just here for fuel.”
“Many are… I’ve seen a few travelers have to bite the bullet and settle down here. The king has monopolized all fuel resources and imports and distributes them in miniscule portions. There’s not nearly enough to go around.”
“You may find it difficult to believe, but this isn’t the worst planet I’ve been stranded on. I don’t mind staying here until my turn.”
Elliotte fell silent for a moment, gaze drawn once again to the grange fruit between her hands, “You know, if you’ll be here for a while, you’ll have to learn not to be deceived by tricky merchants. Maybe you could use a guide.”
“Are you offering?” said the Mandalorian, catching her by surprise yet again. Her eyes shot up, meeting the t-shape of his beskar as she carefully pondered her answer. “I can pay you for your time,” he continued.
The thought of money during her recovery period made her graze her fingertips over her sprained wrist. “Well… it’s not like I’m really able to work my regular job, is it? Sure. I’m offering. I’ll teach you how to deal with the locals and the nobility, and… which fruits are toxic and which are fine to eat,” she chuckled, “and… whatever else you’re hoping to learn about this planet.”
“Great. When do we start?”
“Right now?”
Mando’s armor clinked together with a metallic sound as he stood. Ell did the same, but before she headed for the ramp, she glanced just past his shoulder to the ladder to the upper level, where he’d taken the little green child the night before.
Mando followed her gaze for a brief moment, then brushed past her and made his way toward the ship’s exit. “He’ll be fine. This won’t be the first time he’s been left alone during the day.”
The harpist was quick to follow, squinting against the harsh sunlight as she stepped out into it. “I’ve overslept,” Ell noted, “If I was scheduled to work this morning, I’d already be starting with my third client.”
“Good thing you aren’t, then,” came the beskar-clad man’s reply, “Where would you like to start guiding?”
“The marketplace. Perhaps we can negotiate a refund for your grange fruit,” Elliotte said, increasing her pace so she could properly walk beside him as they returned to the city center. “I’m sure many places in the galaxy practice negotiations and trades—on Listronus, it’s a way of survival. If you play the right cards and talk to the right people, you can start with a grange fruit and end up with a house.”
By the time the stalls of the crowded marketplace had come into view, Elliotte had gone over numerous negotiation methods valued by the local Listronians, and as she came to a halt in front of one of the vendors, she held up the purple grange fruit to demonstrate. The man before her was short and stocky, a thick beard covering his lower face and a few orange-tinted blossoms wrapped around some of the fine hairs to add an interesting accent to his dark features.
This particular merchant’s stall was covered in decorative strands of beads, all hand-crafted and sewn together to create beautifully elaborate color combinations and designs. As Elliotte began to offer her trade, chattering quickly with the merchant in their native tongue, the Mandalorian reached for one of the bead strands in a nearby basket, turning it over to closely survey the craftsmanship.
It was rather cheaply made, with inexpensive strands of cloth wrapped around thin white beads that matched the color of the wilting flower petals in Elliotte’s hair, but there was still something simple and beautiful about it.
Mando was no expert in the Listronian language, but he’d done enough travelling in his time to be able to recognize a few words in his companion’s conversation with the merchant.
“….Wife… heart… ill…”
They discussed intently for a moment before Ell’s expression brightened and grew into a wide smile. She handed the merchant the grange fruit, and after it was in his grasp, the man gestured to the basket of bead strands. “Three.”
“Take three,” Ell followed up, offering the Mandalorian a smile before gently shaking the merchant’s hand. “May she have a swift recovery.” With that, she turned and made her way back to the Mandalorian’s side, just as he finished retrieving three strands from the basket.
As they moved on from the stall, Elliotte lowered her voice just a bit. “It’s not difficult to barter here… everyone needs something, whether it’s a piece of furniture for their dwelling or leaves for tea. Grange fruit, as I mentioned earlier, has great medicinal properties. Joju’s wife has been feeling ill this week, with a high fever and heart pain… the fruit will help ease her fever when prepared the right way. In exchange, we have three bead threads.”
“Why didn’t you just purchase them? They weren’t expensive,” inquired Mando, curious to follow her process.
“If you bought everything in the marketplace with credits, you’d be broke within weeks. If a merchant knows you can pay the full price immediately, they’ll raise it… that’s how you wind up convinced a grange fruit is edible.”
“Fair point… Now we have beads. What’s a step up from that?”
“Now, you consider who’d have the most use for beads. You’d have trouble selling beads to a fruit salesman—what use would he have for them, right? So instead…” Elliotte trailed off, smoothing her hand down the side of her dress and tapping at a few of the beads sewn into the fabric, “You’d be better off approaching a seamstress.” She nodded further down the row of stalls where two female merchants were sitting, smiling at customers and engaging in polite conversation while they threaded a pattern into a violet-colored dress shirt.
Elliotte maneuvered through the crowd, followed closely by Mando, until she came to a halt in front of the seamstresses. Up close, Mando noticed that they, too, boasted brightly-colored flowers in their hair. It was then he reasoned the flowers must have some sort of cultural significance on Listronus, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how or why.
The seamstress closest to the front of the stall lit up as Elliotte drew near. “Ellie! Long time no see… glad to see the dress I made is holding up! Is your arm alright…? What’s happened?”
“No need to worry, Lisete. Just a little accident… and yes, the dress is marvelous. Comfortable… fits like a glove… absolutely perfect.”
Lisete was positively glowing by the time Ell had finished speaking about the quality of her dress. “Is there something specific you’ve come here for today?”
“My friend and I have just come to offer you these,” Elliotte said, passing her one of the strands, “Your beadwork is always so impressive, and I know you love to use many shapes and sizes in your patterns. Would you have any use for these?”
Lisete hummed thoughtfully as she pulled at the cheap cloth until a bead came loose in her palm. “They’re awfully tiny… but not useless by any means. I have a skirt that these would look lovely on. What are you hoping to get for them?”
Ell hummed softly, leaning down and folding her arms across the table. “I was wondering if you had any string… some firm but flexible string.”
Lisete glanced over her shoulder toward the other seamstress, who nodded and passed her a spool of rolled string. “We can offer you this. This is made from ostratine root fibers rather than our typical fabric threads… it’s stretchy and resilient, but not very comfortable if you’re hoping to wear something made of it.” “This is perfect, Lisete, thank you,” Elliotte said, “Would you trade the full spool for three bead strands?”
“Sure would.”
Ell passed her the beads and took the wrapped string before saying her goodbyes and making her way back into the marketplace.
“You’re good at this,” Mando stated.
“I’ve been doing it for a long time. It’s important to build up a bit of a reputation here in the market, so people know you won’t screw them over. Learn about them. Buy from them. They’ll come to trust you. Do you want to try the next exchange?”
“… I suppose.”
“Take a look at these stands… who do you think would have the most use for a string like this?”
The Mandalorian turned his helmet, scanning the nearby stalls slowly before settling on one at the opposite side of the aisle, where a lanky man was laughing and shaking hands with a customer with a handful of fish wrapped in parchment. “A fisherman,” was his answer through the modulator, “He can use the string for his poles.”
“Great eye. You’re a fast learner,” Elliotte replied, passing him the spool.
As Mando went to cross the street, a figure from further down the row caught his eye. He stood out in the crowd with expensive-looking robes made of fabrics that certainly weren’t being sold in the marketplace. The hood of his robe was fused with some kind of animal bone with various pointed tips, like a crown around the back of his neck. The skin around his eyes was decorated in royal blue paint, a color that only seemed to accentuate his worst features. He was balding, so he wore no flowers, but Mando still recognized him immediately as Listronian.
“Lord Miryus,” he heard Elliotte breathe from beside him, “He’s the one who sprained my wrist.”
“He did this?”
“Yes. He’s a nobleman who lives in the palace. It’s awfully pretentious that he dresses like that here in the market—the antlers and paint are a sign of status… as if any of us could doubt it, when he struts around like the king himself anywhere he goes.” Elliotte said, and Mando didn’t miss the way her nose wrinkled with distaste.
“If you have such a dislike for the nobility… why do you work so closely with them?”
“I need money. They like music… it’s like I said before—Everyone needs something; there’s always an exchange to be made,” Elliotte finally drew her gaze back to him and forced a weak smile, nodding to the spool of string in his hand. “Speaking of which, it’s time you pitch yours.”
CLARITAS. Part 4. Din Djarin/Original Female Character
WORDS: 1.2k || WARNINGS: Language
As Elliotte returned to her home and pulled the door shut behind her, she set her instrument down near the door and tried to turn her wrist over to look at the injury a little closer. The skin was a bit swollen, and two finger-shaped bruises were beginning to form above the bone. Elliotte hissed in a breath as she touched it and was met with a sharp sting of pain.
She pushed away from the door and made her way over to the stove, using her good hand to begin heating some water for tea. As she waited for it to boil, she sorted through various jars of herbs and dried flowers and set them down beside the stove.
Before she could get much further, there was a faint knock at the door. Elliotte turned away from the stove long enough to retrieve a thick knife from the drawer. She slid it into her sleeve as a precaution and turned her attention to the door once again.
Elliotte opened it a crack only to be met with the imposing figure of the metal-clad man. “Oh, you’re here,” she said politely.
“I am.”
Elliotte opened the door a bit wider and allowed him to step into her small dwelling. “Thank you. I apologize, I don’t have company very often.”
Once he was inside, he turned to face her. “You should sit,” he said, nodding to the table and chairs nearby. Elliotte obeyed, stepping backward and sinking into one of the chairs. The metal man pulled the other chair closer and did the same. Only then did Elliotte notice the first aid kit as he set it down on the table. “Let me see your arm.”
Elliotte reluctantly extended her wrist to him, and he turned her arm over so her palm was facing upward. Gloved fingers found the bruises over her wrist, trailing over them feather-light and studying the intensity of the injury. Elliotte was taken aback by his unexpected gentleness, especially as he supported the weight of her arm with his other hand to keep it upright. His helmet tipped upward, once again meeting her gaze behind his helmet. “It’s a sprain. Not fractured.”
The man opened the medical kit and fished around within it for some supplies. When he retracted his hand, he held a roll of gauze and tape. “It’ll need a few days to heal, so be sure to keep it elevated and don’t do anything too stressful,” he unrolled the gauze and began to wrap her forearm tightly, to prevent her from moving her wrist too much and increasing the damage.
A few days…? How will she be able to play her harp? If she can’t perform, she can’t collect credits… she would be able to manage just fine for a few days, but she wasn’t the only one relying on her income.
As the man released her arm, she drew her wrist closer to her body, brow furrowed softly with worry. Now was not the time to panic. Instead, she lifted her gaze. “Thank you, sir. I’m in your debt—truly.”
The man waved her off and got to his feet with a metallic click from his armor. “No, you aren’t. Don’t worry about it.”
Elliotte stood as well and made her way back toward the stove to retrieve the now-boiling water. “I know it isn’t much, but the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea…”
The man stole a hesitant glance in the direction of the front door, shifting uncomfortably from side to side.
“You’re by no means obligated… but it’s a secret family recipe,” Ell tried as she began stirring in the herbs and flower petals she’d set out earlier. As the water boiled away at the leaves, the pleasant aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. Ell poured a bit of the liquid into a mug, careful not to allow the herbs to follow suit.
Elliotte wasn’t sure if it was the smell or the honey-colored liquid in the second mug that enticed the metal man to stay, but he did—albeit obviously reluctantly.
“I’m Elliotte, by the way. Elliotte Cantossan. What do you go by?”
“Most people just call me ‘Mando’,” he answered, looking down at the mug she’d handed to him.
“Well… it’s nice to put a name to the… um. Helmet? I can’t exactly say face, now can I,” Elliotte gave a weak chuckle to hopefully ease the tension and leaned against the counter. “Why do you wear all of that anyway?”
“I’m a Mandalorian… I can’t take the beskar off. At least while there’s another person present.”
None of the terminology was familiar to Elliotte at all—she recalled a few mentions in passing of the race of ‘Mandalorians’ by some of the nobility, but she’d never seen one in real life… it was then that she made the connection and glanced between the mug still gripped in his gloved hand and the t-shape of his beskar helmet. “Oh, shit… you can’t–-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” Elliotte started, but she was interrupted by a faint sound from beneath the Mandalorian’s helmet, muffled through the modulator. A chuckle. A small one, but still recognizable.
“It happens more often than you’d think.”
“I could step into the other room for a few minutes, if you’d like,” Elliotte offered, now feeling a touch bad.
Mando seemed to ponder it for a moment, but he then dipped his head. “No, it’s alright. I should be going anyway.”
Elliotte chewed her lip thoughtfully, offering a slow nod. “Then… please, at least take it with you. It should be hot enough to stay warm until you make it back to your ship.”
At that offer, the Mandalorian nodded curtly behind his beskar. “… I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you. I haven’t had tea since…” his voice trailed off, and his helmet tipped to the side. How long hadit been?
It was Elliotte’s turn to chuckle. “That long, huh? Well… as long as you’re stranded on this planet, feel free to visit now and again. I have dozens of tea recipes I haven’t practiced with in ages,” she watched quietly as Mando packed all of his supplies back into the medical kit and clamped it shut before speaking again, “And… thank you. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more to repay you with.”
His helmet turned in her direction. “It’s a roll of gauzeand some tape. I think your cup of tea is worth more.”
Mando’s light-hearted response to her apology startled a laugh from her. He did have a point—Elliotte was just touched by his kind gesture. He did come all this way, after all.
“Just don’t make it a daily habit. I’m not sure I have enough gauze for your other wrist,” he said, quietly picking the kit up and heading for her front door.
“Well there go my plans for tomorrow.” Elliotte replied, her heart nearly skipping a beat when her response earned another chuckle from the usually stoic man. She opened the door for him and smiled as he passed her and stepped down onto the sidewalk. He turned to face her once more and pointed sternly around the mug of steaming tea in his hand.
“Remember, keep it elevated. Don’t do anything stressful, or you’ll be nursing it for more than a couple of days.” And with that, he was gone, briskly making his way down the street until he was no longer in sight.
Now back inside the house, Elliotte returned to the counter and retrieved her own mug from beside the stove. She sipped the warm tea from it slowly, and thanked the gods that it tasted like heaven.
A/N: Thank you all for supporting this fic so far! The feedback has made me smile and tear up many times this week and I can’t thank you all enough for your kind words.
Once Elliotte’s eyes were covered by a wrap of thick fabric, the Mandalorian held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Uh… three…? I don’t know,” came her response as her fingers sifted through the carefully aligned piles of flowers, all sorted by color, “You’re going to have to let me know what color I’m holding… and yes, it doesmatter.”
Elliotte felt the faint shift in the air as the man settled in the grass across from her. “I will, I will,” he replied, “And you can’t see anything, right…?”
“Even if I could, I have my eyes shut… but please, if you’re uncomfortable with this, you don’t have to–”
“You’ve been nothing but trustworthy since I met you. I can offer you this much as thanks.”
Ell became silent at that, sitting back on her knees and fiddling with the hem of her dress. After a moment came a soft pop and hiss as his helmet disengaged, and a faint thump as he set it aside in the grass. She could hear him draw in a faint breath, and in that moment it was difficult to determine who felt more nervous.
In an attempt to break the uncomfortable pause, Ell lowered her head in the direction of the flower piles and began feeling around for them. “What color is your hair…? Do you have hair? Are you allowed to answer that…?”
CLARITAS. The Mandaloran/Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Part 7)
A/N: It’s been a hot minute! I had a few weeks where I felt so burned out I couldn’t get any writing accomplished… Hoping to change that in the coming weeks. Thanks for your patience!
WORDS: 2.2k || WARNINGS: None
When Elliotte awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to the familiar sight of sunlight peeking through the shades of her bedroom balcony, but to the cool and soft darkness of the Mandalorian’s ship. She sat up quickly, readjusting to her surroundings and doing her best to pat down any bed head she’d acquired throughout the course of the night.
After a few moments, she’d willed herself to stand up and reenter the main segment of the ship but before she could get much further, she heard Mando climb down from the upper level and join her in the main area.
“You’re awake,” he acknowledged, “Here. I brought you this.” He turned a small purple object over in his gloved hand and passed it to her.
Ell took it from him and couldn’t resist a smile as she recognized the familiar round shape he’d offered her. “That’s very kind of you—but why are you giving me a grange fruit?”
The Mandalorian had no response readily available to such a question, aside from a slow tilt of his helmet. Then, after a long moment of consideration, “To… eat?”
Elliotte looked back down at the fruit and nodded slowly. “I appreciate the gesture, truly. Grange fruits are… a Listronus specialty… but they are incredibly toxic. Not for eating. But… excellent medicinal properties, and the skin can be boiled into a delicious tea when mixed with some of the local flowers. Very tasty.”
“Certainly glad I didn’t try to eat it myself, then. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with the merchant who tried to pass it off as edible.”
Elliotte chuckled, scraping a fleck of dirt off of the grange fruit with her fingernail, “Try not to go too hard on ‘em. Everyone’s just trying to make a living around here—not that it excuses the selling of toxic fruits to visitors!” With a sigh, she let her arm drop to her side, “I apologize. We used to be more hospitable people.”
