#arockstar

@arockstar​ ASKED:   amaryllis: what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ? how do they express that pride ?

I want to say his conversation/social skills but I think those just feel natural to Kerian. So, probably his fighting abilities. He’s sort of made his own unique style to fit him and he’s just a major threat when he’s in his zone. Expression -wise, I mean he likes to spar, he likes to play fight. He’s not one to brag or boast and he feels the expression of pride is simply in the action of performing well.

{ @arockstar​ }{ my reaction to this is literally that one meme of the skeleton man screaming “YES” so bless u for sending this uwu }

Okay first and arguably most importantly, Arrie is a member of the “ice cream tastes better in the winter” camp.  It’s really not uncommon to see her with a tub of ice cream even though outside can look like a winter wonderland. Arrie’s not the pickiest when it comes to flavours either, but she has a soft spot for mint ice cream.

However, her biggest go-to is hot chocolate, 100%. Marshmallows and whipped cream are REQUIRED. Also, it MUST be with milk - no ifs, ands or buts. 

The reasoning behind this is entirely a nostalgia factor. Growing up in Québec meant that Arrie was VERY used to frigid temperatures - the your-eyelashes-WILL-freeze type of temperatures. Even then though, she could only play outside with her brothers for so long before they had to come back inside, and EVERY time they did, her parents would make them hot cocoa to warm them right up.

Another treat she loves during the winter but doesn’t indulge in nearly as often are s’mores. Again, it’s a childhood nostalgia thing. Plus, she missed 5 winters’ worth of eating s’mores, thanks to being stuck living in the heart of Montréal, so whenever she does indulge herself, that’s her excuse. 

If there were any doubts as to the man’s intentions, the way his hands shot up in the air was a clear enough sign of surrender.

So, despite the fact his posture remained ramrod straight, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster.

He’d seen this man before, he was sure of it-- he’d been hovering in the area when he and Cara Dune had first brought Moff Gideon to this Alliance base (and the Mandalorian’s skin hadn’t yet stopped crawling being on this territory, but that was another matter entirely)-- but what he was doing in his presence was a question to him.

This wasn’t the nice provision that the Alliance had offered him in exchange for the war criminal he delivered. This was the Mandalorian sat outside, the Imperial ship he and Cara had taken landed not too far away, and the light of the moon shining over the curve of his beskar helmet.

Blandly, he said, “This is my camp.”

And the Mandalorian couldn’t think of any reason for this stranger to be out here with him instead of with the rest of the Alliance where it was safer, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The blaster was slid back into his holster, and he leaned his head back, away from the light of the moon, to rest the back of his helm against the trunk of the tree he was sat under once more.

{ @arockstar​ }{ send me a “✆” and i’ll record myself reading out a paragraph section from one of our threads! }

Din turned to watch them go. Sure enough, it seemed that the man would be mindful of the child. He waited until they were out of sight before he made any other move. After sitting and balancing his box of food on his leg, he reached into the clasps of the helmet, easing it off his head and placing it besides him.

Dinner wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Being so exposed outside in the middle of the night, he ate with a careful efficiency, always peering around him in case anything or anyone were to attempt approach the ship.

Afterwards, he cleaned up any residue, stowed the box away and replaced his helmet over his head.

“You can come out.” He called back, helmet turning in their direction. 

It was getting late. The kid would probably become fuzzy if he wasn’t put down to sleep any time soon, and they could use the peaceful night to get some rest before venturing back out into space. With a stick, the Mandalorian poked around the logs on the fire, dropped the stick into it once that was done and stood with a sigh. 

“I only have one bed inside the ship. You can take that, and I’ll camp it out in the cockpit with the child.” He walked over to Newt, plucked the Child out of his arms with practiced ease. He showed him inside, demonstrated how to work the control panels to lock and open the sleeping space.

Din understood where the other came from. He had been on the witnessing part of such a thing happening to someone else, as well as to his own purchases that needed to be done quick for the sake of taking off fast. That type of mechanic was the worst, and the regret of throwing in a litle more credits  to get the job going would only hit later when one wasn’t in a hurry and the need for purchases on something else arose.

The turn of his wrench creaked with every tightening delivered to a bolt, a few minutes that it took to fix a piece in place. Upon taking a step back to take a look at his work, the Mandalorian dropped the wrench back in the tool box and gently nudged the lid close with the front of his boot. His helmet turned to face Newt. “Just a few details. Nothing that will impede take off tomorrow.”

Unless they were to get attacked unexpectedly, that is. But he didn’t think it was a good idea to tell the other that when he already looked on edge about everything. The tool box, he situated inside, close to the entrance. The Mandalorian then wandered back outside and placed the portion of meal that had been sitting over the fire into a metal box to have later alone. Din lowered himself to sit next to Grogu, the fire drawing playful shadows over his helmet.