Yeah So Sabine Is Gonna Adopt Baby Gogurt When They Find Out About Him - Blog Posts

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   THE  CANTEEN  IS  EASILY  CAUGHT,  its coolness permeating past leather.   it’ll be another while before they drink from it,  at least until they can find another retreat from eyes,  though they raise it up with a slight shake to signal thanks.   they swallow down the lingering iron.

as anxiety passes through her,  nicks at her speech,  din lifts themself from against the ship’s side and approaches her with a languid stride.   there’s not much else to indicate that there shouldn’t be so much worry around questioning them   ─   though when they finally reach them,  a hand grips their upper arm as reassurance before falling back to their side.   the touch is as brief as a breath.   in truth,  they’re surprised she had waited this long to ask.   her patience is wholly appreciated,  of course,  but they do not open themself from within.   they could hide themself infinitely.   a being encased in shell upon shell,  they must be pried with anything but a knife.   ❝  yeah.   ❞   their tone is open,  paired with a nod.   wariness lies there,  too.  ❝  go ahead.  ❞  

in turn,  nerves do not bind them but an old weight pulls at their spine,  pooling at their feet and the ends of their fingers.   they’re not sure what to expect,  what vital differentiations will contrast the both of them.   one of their tenets already invites perplexed looks   ─   sometimes it leads others to cruelty,  like it was a challenge to break it for them.    ❝  i’d like to know more about yours,  too  ─    ❞   really,  they already know the response before it leaves them.   but if their companion sought permission for their history,  they will give the same courtesy.  ❝  ─   if you’re willing.  ❞

The trepidation, though never malignant, was always present. It was a dance Sabine had practiced with every sibling by creed, but none more so than this one. There was no resentment or exhaustion or shame in it-- this was just the cost of their relationship. And Sabine was more than content to measure their words, to weigh their steps, to share meals in separate rooms, to avoid painful questions-- if it meant spending time with her friend. For them, it was worth it. 

Their touch was as gentle as it was brief, and it returned her to the present. Sabine greeted his gentility with a waning smile from unmasked lips. Their answer was relief, another brick to the altar of trust built by them both. Of course, he knew her reply. Though nothing in the steel countenance conceded it, the fact made itself known. She would share with him whatever was asked. (They appreciated the formality nonetheless.)

“Yeah. Um. I think that would be...Yeah, I would like that.”

There was no telling where to start. Certain things were known, yes, but others? How were they to tread the trauma they’d experienced in the last few years alone? And how much of it did they really share? Amid the torrent of questions, a quiet reassurance chimed from the back of their mind: let’s start here. 

“Did you-- er, do you have a family?”