#mandogold

WEDNESDAY STARTERS

@mandogold​ asked:

❛ so this must be what ‘ordinary’ looks like. ❜ 

“I suppose it is.” He says, tilting his head to the side as he surveyed their surroundings. “Though I’m not sure it’s such a bad thing.” He raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip. The cantina hums with life around them. Just beyond the walls, the town bustles. It’s not so much that this place has been untouched by the Empire; everywhere has. In spite of everything, the suffering, the lives lost and given readily, everywhere has. It’s more that it’s being ignored. It’s ‘safe’, at least for now. 

That’s enough. 

He sets his cup down, looks up at the newcomer. The Force was telling him she wasn’t one to be taken lightly; He wished, not for the first time, it would listen when he rolled his eyes at it. It won’t. It also won’t listen to the ‘Thank you, Master Obvious’ he thinks as he takes his eyes away from the stranger. Mandalorian, obviously. Well-experienced, if the way she carried herself had anything to say. Interesting, then, that she was here. There weren’t many Mandalorians left wandering the galaxy. What was one doing here? 

But there were manners to consider. He’d been raised better. So he gestures to the seat across to him - dangerous, perhaps, to draw any kind of attention to himself, but his curiosity was getting the better of him once again. 

the young warrior picked his way through the remnants of the poachers camp, there was evidence of a haphazardly doused campfire, empty ration packs, damaged equipment, discarded cartridges, and thermal clips littered the ground. neteyam's upper lip curled back with distaste as he stepped over the mess, inspecting the canopy of trees as he sniffed there air. they weren't traveling by foot, no doubt they were moving freely on some kind of hovering transport judging by the scorch marks on the trees and the smell of burning fuel.

neteyam crouched to inspect the overturned dirt. there were six of them, one with a gimp leg if the treads were anything to go by, heavy set or heavily armed —maybe both, and they'd left in a hurry. neteyam frowned, he had been tracking the poachers for only a couple of nights and he was certain they hadn't noticed him. something else must have spooked his quarry. his ears flicked, pinning flat against his skull. in a single fluid movement he had his bow in hand, arrow notched and aimed at the chest piece of a stranger clad in heavy armor.

@mandogold liked for a starter

"I haven't seen a Mandalorian in a long time." Allea said, she still had her blaster at the ready, but it was lowered at least a little. The last Mandalorian she had seen had visited Ossus when she was young, no older than seven or eight years old at most.

                                                     “           is that WISE to be doing right now ??         ”        

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have || ACCEPTING

@mandogold​ asked: 

📂

Braig’s favourite chores around the Temple are cooking and sewing/mending, especially if he can take whatever needs to be sewn up to his room and treat it as a sort of meditation. Repairing the training weapons around the Temple also falls into this, but since putting a lightsaber back together takes a few seconds at most with the Force (and it feels strange using someone else's crystals to meditate), he doesn’t really use this as a focusing technique nearly as much.