something something paz Vizsla something something a/b/o
i am not a writer by any means but i have this stuck in my head and what better place to get it outta my system then tumblr right? right?
CW: omegaverse
Paz survived season 3 of the Mandalorian (obv. what do you mean he died?)
and the Mandalorians settle on Nevarro on the land Greef Karga had promised.
It's... difficult to adapt at first. Different tribes and houses all gather here as word reaches them. The little gathering of ships, redesigned to live in, and sparse huts quickly grow into a community.
And as the settlement grows, so does Nevarro itself.
Soon the settlement isn't as far off from the bustling market place.
It draws all kinds of merchants and people to come and live here.
The settlement is still somewhat off limits to outsiders. This has a couple of reasons. For one, who would willingly stumble into the den of the lion? Secondly, the situation inside the settlement is... tense to put it in simple terms.
Alor's of all houses squabble for power. How else should it be? Old habits die hard. Some clans remove their helmets, some don't, some only for food, and on and on the list goes of different interpretations of the creed all of them took.
This leaves a simple choice. A council is needed. Paz finds himself on that council, chest puffed and ready to bring order to his people. Because thats what they are. Even if he doesn't agree with them, they're all mandalorian.
So imagine his surprise when he isn't the only one thinking that way. The meetings are all the same. fighting, squabbling, yelling, up to the point that the Armorer has to slam her hammer down and call for an adjournment.
Paz is done. He is absolutely exhausted. Everyday for weeks now, he had to get up in the morning, check the armory, get Ragnar ready for the day, feed himself and the kid, train the warriors, and to top it all off, attend these dreaded meetings.
He's on his last leg really, under that helmet he is all eyebags and permanent frown to accompany the slump of his shoulders.
Its a welcome change when he has to make a run to the Navarro market. The spices his people peide themselves with had run out, and you can't cook a real mandalorian feast without spicy goodies.
Its a chilly morning on the market, cold air condensing on his armor as he makes his way to the market. Ragnar is already in school, dressed and fed, and as rowdy as the kid had always been. Paz wouldn't have it any other way.
He's browsing the stalls, not buying anything but time and quiet. He's quite enjoying himself. Sure, the market is busy even for this early, but for once he doesn't have to keep an eye out for his own clansmen and the dreaded Kryze squabbling over some bullshit or other.
He sighs deeply under his bucket, shoulders less hanging and more of a relaxed set for once. His next deep inhale of crisp air carries a sweet scent. so sweet- but spicy as well. A sweetness that carries a certain bite to it that makes his nose burn in the most delicious way.
