It was just past dusk and darkness was settling in when Mando told her they were getting close.
He set the ship down a ways out of city limits and led her into town, down twisting alleyways cutting through enough sharp turns and strange passage ways that Cara wondered how he ever remembers it all. With each turn a little more light slipped away until Cara was quite sure they're underground now, finding herself latching a hand to his cloak to avoid losing him in the darkness. Mando kept walking, navigating the endless corridors as though they were his home, which to him, she supposed, they are.
Finally she spotted a light in the distance, a torch, and beside it stood a Mandalorian who managed to make even Mando look quite small.
Mando glanced back at her. "Stay behind me."
Given that the other Mandalorian sported a blaster on his shoulder big enough to disintegrate her on the spot, and given that Cara was running alarmingly low on both weapons and energy, she was not disinclined to agree.
Mando greeted the other, exchanging a few words. The other Mandalorian's gaze fell upon her, somewhat accusatorily, and never had Cara wished more that she understood Mando'a.
What sounded like a brief argument occurred, and listening closely, she managed to catch a few words.
"-aruetii -" outsider
Well, she could be relatively certain they were talking about her then.
"-Kyrbej Burc'ya-" (something?) friend
Mando was explaining why he brought her. She recognized a few other words as something she had heard him say before, but she couldn't quite place the meaning.
Eventually the large Mandalorian gave her another once over before nodding, and stepping aside and reaching for something from his belt.
"Aliit ori'shya tal'din." The large Mandalorian took a key and unlocked the door that had been behind him.
Cara followed Mando through the door, momentarily blinded by the influx of light and the chattering noise that erupted from the doorway. When her eyes adjusted, she became aware that she had just stepped into a massive room chalk full of more Mandalorians than she'd ever seen - all of whom happened to be staring directly at them. No, not at them. At her. Her face, more specifically.
She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. and ducked her head at the attention.
Looking out, she saw that every face was covered, if not by an armored helmet, then by something of a cloth covering that showed nothing but the eyes.
Within a few seconds, the Mandalorians resumed their chatting and working, but still, an uncomfortable number of eyes lingered on her form. Especially the curious gazes of the children, amongst which was Grogu, happily cooing away as the children played with him. Din didn't often leave him behind, but he'd had a feeling this particular mission would go to crap, and he'd been right. Cara watched him greet Grogu, then the other children as well, who still looked decidedly less interested in him than they did her.
Cara hadn't realized she froze until Mando gently tugged at her sleeve, pulling her forwards, farther into the room. He led her back to a doorway behind the room that opened up into a series of hallways. Before long they stopped in front of a room. Though a cloth curtain partially concealed what lay within the room, Cara could see the glow of a fire, along with part of a rather regal looking Mandalorian tending to the flames.
Catching his arm, she stopped him from entering.
"Mando-"
"Din," He turned to her, "I'm called Din here."
"Din, then. They don't seem to like me very much, and I don't want to cause you problems with your clan. Don't you think it'd be better if I-"
"You are safe here and you are no trouble" Din assured, "Now, come on. We have to report in."
Beads clinked the stone walls as Din pushed the curtain aside and gestured for her to enter. Cara followed him until they stood in front of a low table that sat directly across from the fire and the regal looking Mandalorian. Beside her, Din knelt, a gloved hand resting on each knee. After a moment's hesitation, Cara followed suit. She was more aware of her bare face than ever now, feeling the Mandalorian's gaze burning into her somehow, despite being unable to catch the woman's eyes herself. Once the Mandalorian, the armorer, Cara realized, took her place at the other end of the table, Din spoke.
"For the foundlings." He said, placing a number of credits onto the table which Cara knew amounted to nearly all he processed.
So that's why his ship is always so kriffed up, She thought.
"They thank you, as always Din Djarin." the armorer took the credits, stowing them in a pouch at her side. Din ducked his head in something akin to a bow.
The armorer turned to look at Cara. "You have taken a cyare?"
Cara wasn't sure what a cyare was, but Din nearly choked in reaction to it.
"Um- no, she's-" Din stumbled over his words
"Burc'ya." Cara supplied, desperately hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself. "I'm his burc'ya."
"You speak Mando'a?" the armorer turned to her, helmet tipping slightly, interested.
"No, just pieces. Words." A moment of silence followed her response, and Cara's gaze dropped to the table, uncomfortable once again, at the attention given her.
The armorer looked back to Din and spoke a few more phrases, questions, in Mando'a. Somehow being left out of the conversation she had no doubt was about her was equally undesirable, and suddenly the fire beside them became quite fascinating. Din replied to the armorer and Cara couldn't help but notice the ease with which the words rolled from his tongue. It made sense in a way, that he was so quiet usually. Basic was his third language after all. It's no surprise he wouldn't feel comfortable with it. Din was still precise, she could tell, using only as many words as necessary to get his point across, but there was no hesitance, no lag time in his speech. Not like there was in Basic.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the conversation was over and the armorer stood.
"Rise." She said.
Din and Cara stood. The armorer looked at both of them.
"Vod to Djarin is vod to all." the armorer stated, "You will be welcome here now, and always. This is the way."
"This is the way." Din agreed.
"You have seen much. Go to the baar'ur," the armorer looked to Cara, "the medics. They will see to your injuries. I will send someone to prepare your rooms."
"Vor'e." Din bowed his head.
Thank you. Cara's mind supplied, bowing her head as well.
They turned to leave and were only a few feet from the door when the armorer was heard again.
"Paz will want to see you."
Din nodded, and led Cara out the door.
"Who is Paz?" Cara asked, once they again walked through those dark, endless stone hallways.
"He is ori'vod. My older brother."
"I didn't know you had a brother." Cara said, "He was rescued with you?"
"No, he's not a foundling. He is clan born."
"Oh."
The exhaustion of the day, and the battle that had caused their need to go to the Covert was beginning to take its toll on her. Her body ached and she felt the stretch of a blaster burn against her shoulder. Mando's- Din's- she corrected- armor had been damaged and was in need of more repair than he could confidently handle himself. That, and their hyperdrive was kriffed, which meant they had to stay in system until they'd fixed it. It was sheer luck that the Covert happened to be here.
Cara found her mind drifting and she almost didn't notice when Din slipped past a curtain into one of the rooms lining the hall.
The room was mostly bare, only a few cots lining the wall along with a set of cabinets. There were two Mandalorians there, one taking Din's shoulder, and the other, hers, guiding them each down to a cot.
Cara sat as instructed, and she wished for a moment she'd been led to sit beside Din. Somehow staring into cold beskar wasn't particularly comforting when having her injuries inspected. It occurred to her that it would be no different if Din was next to her, it would still be just cold beskar. Somehow though, silly enough, she'd grown to think of his helmet as being his face. His helmet was different somehow, and it was significantly more inviting than the one that hovered before her.
Even so, the touch of the Mandalorian medic, though experienced, was gentle and Cara found herself eventually relaxing, interrupted with single "dank ferrick!" when the medic happened upon a particularly tender part of her wound. Closing her eyes as she leaned against the wall. She was safe. Safe here.
Soon enough it was determined that while neither Din nor Cara possessed any particularly severe injuries, the worst being Cara's minor concussion, they had apparently accrued enough scrapes and bruises to warrant being told to take it easy for a while, followed up by some light pain meds.
A Mandalorian woman entered the room and walked to Cara, greeting her warmly.
"I am Faik. I'm here to show you to your enclave."
Cara looked back to Din, who nodded.
"I'll see you again at last meal, I need to see the kid," he said, "Faik will get you cleaned up."
Cara nodded, swallowing dryly. She wasn't sure what about all this was so difficult for her. Usually she was just fine around new cultures, but- this was Din's, and she didn't want to kark it up. Everything that had happened thus far had felt vaguely familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. There were things she recognized from the little Din had told her about his people, but she had never actually seen any of it herself.
She followed Faik to a small room that contained a cot and a small closet. She stood in the room, feeling a little lost and out of place.
"I put some clothes there in the closet for you. The ones you're wearing are rather dirty and could probably use some mending."
Cara watched her flit about the room, fixing little things, rambling on a bit.
Her slowing mind noted that Din was the exception rather than the rule when it came to rate of speech.
"I figure you'll probably want to wash before last meal." Faik said, "I was about to head there myself. I can show you where, if you'd like?"
Cara knew she must look a mess, she could feel the grime coating her, but she was dead on her feet and that cot looked awfully soft and comfortable... A nap would do her good, and it was definitely a lot less effort.
She was drug out of her thoughts again by Faik's voice.
"Come on. You should wash. Can't have that blaster burn getting infected. There will be time enough to nap later."
Faik was right of course. It wouldn't do to get sick because of a stupid decision. Cara nodded numbly and scooped up the stack of clothes on the shelf, wondering briefly what the outfit looked like before deciding she didn't care.
A/N: And here is my first attempt of a Mando fic of any significant length... So... Hope you enjoyed. Cara here is probably a bit OOC, but honestly she's exhausted, has a tad of a concussion, and holding her eyes open is about the best she can do at this point.