#weallneedtosleep

[dreadxreckoning]

@weallneedtosleep​ continued from here

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I had to go to bed on a strict schedule,” Migs retorted, a little harsher than he probably should have. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand over his eyes and face.

“I don’t sleep much, alright?”

Naturally arched eyebrows rise further still at his snapback, at his tone, and a sharp answer is on the tip of her tongue, only waiting for him to say something more to merit the response…

But then he seems to realizes his error if the sigh is any indication, the way he seems to deflate, body language speaking of more weariness than a single night of lost sleep. Maybe even more than a few nights’ lost sleep.

[ She’s seen this too much. From her few friends with whom she maintains contact. From Gavril. From herself. If she couldn’t recognize it by now… ]

She wills herself to relax, to swallow scathing words, to loosen the tension that settled into her muscles with her perhaps overdeveloped fight response.

With a sigh of her own, she walks over to the conservator and takes out two drinks. One for her… and another for him. There’s a moment where she glances at him, trying to gage if this intrusion is unwelcome, if she’s assuming too much. Sure, she prefers company when it’s a rough night, but she knows that’s not for everyone… 

She seems to decide after a moment to risk it, however, and, closing the conservator door, she walks over to him, deliberately setting his drink down on the table in front of him and hesitating for only a moment longer…

… before she sits down in the seat across from him, her gaze settled on her drink rather than on him.

“… Gav gets like that sometimes.”

A beat.

“So do I some nights… Nights like tonight.”

Only with that admission does she look at him, giving a one-shouldered shrug and a half-hearted little smirk, trying to play it off as though it’s simply an offhanded fact, trying to tease, to distract.

“That’s why I’m even awake to hassle you.”

[wargcds]

@fcrfcraway said: a moment of weakness // from Mayfeld @weallneedtosleep

Your muse has been beaten badly and is in bad shape, mine happens to find them.

din   is   trudging   through   the   night   market,   the   streets   packed   with   people   as   he   makes   his   way   back   to   the   ship;   grogu   had   been   left   alone   back   at   the   razor,   and   din   was   just   a   tad   concerned   about   it.   so   much   so   that,   initially,   the   mandalorian   walks   past   the   groaning   form   slumped   on   the   ground   without   a   second   thought---   the   mangled   face   looked   so   familiar,   however,   that   the   man   feels   compelled   to   turn   around,   one   hand   on   his   blaster   as   he   kneels   next   to   the   figure;   in   the   darkness   is   hard   to   tell,   but   din   is   nearly   certain   that   it   is   mayfeld.   ❛   fuck.   ❜   din   muttered,   checking   that,   indeed,   the   man   still   had   vital   signs.   he   felt   trapped   between   a   rock   and   a   hard   place---   it   would’ve   been   far   too   easy   for   him   to   simply   turn   around,   keep   walking   back   to   the   ship   and   zooming   out   of   the   planet   before   migs   woke   up;   in   the   state   he   was   in,   din   wasn’t   even   sure   if   the   man   would   wake   up.   his   consciousness,   however,   would   never   let   him   live   it   down.   ❛   mayfeld,   wake   up.   ❜   he   called   out,   voice   modulator   cracking   slightly   at   the   words.   din   wraps   his   arms   around   the   other’s   ribs,   pulling   migs   up.   ❛   can   you   walk   ?   or   am   i   going   to   have   to   carry   you   like   a   fainted   princess   ?   ❜

[preempire-a]

@weallneedtosleep​ // post-finale starter call

The last time he’d seen Mayfeld had been under better circumstances. He thinks as much as he makes his way to where Mayfeld said he could find him if he ever wanted to see him again.

The Mandalorian hasn’t told anybody about where he took the Imperial ship he’d commandeered, but right now, he doesn’t much feel an obligation to. Despite the weight of the Darksabre at his hip, he doesn’t want to think about Mandalore-- not now, not when he feels a loss so sharp it makes him ache.

He’s not sure why it is Mayfeld continues to leave an impression on him. By now, the Mandalorian’s face has been seen by five other people besides his foundling, and by that logic Mayfeld is no longer an outsider.

But he remembers I’m glad you got your kid back and holds that sentiment close as he seeks him out.

And when he does see him, he doesn’t even bother announcing a greeting.

Instead, he says-- “The kid isn’t with me any more.”

Which is probably succinct enough.

[dreadxreckoning]

[ @weallneedtosleep​ continued from here ]

Migs had disappeared on the ship shortly after they had arrived back on the ship, mumbling an excuse before walking off.

By the time Issa had found him, Mayfeld was hunched over. One hand resting against the wall and his face pale. Hearing her voice, he raised his head slowly and looked at her with slightly unfocused eyes.

“I’m fine…. shut up…”

So uncharacteristically ignoring the sharp words––at least, uncharacteristically so far as he knows––she wastes no time crossing the room to him.

“Let me tell you a secret: having tried that line for most of my life and having had it tried on me, I can tell you that it’s not very convincing, from either side.”

Yet, then that humor fades, turning to something just a bit softer, concerned.

“C’mon… You know I’m not leaving you alone until I get an answer, so out with it. What’s wrong? You running a fever?” she questions, and she’s already bringing her hand up that she can settle it against his forehead to check.

[dreadxreckoning]

[ @weallneedtosleep​ continued from here ]

Mayfeld had been moving through the wooded area alongside Gavril towards where they knew the Imperial compound would be when they came across a tall wall.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Migs muttered as he looked up at the wall then to the sides to see if he could make out an opening anywhere. Cursing under his breath when he couldn’t see anything. He contemplated what to do for several moments before speaking.

“You’re gonna have to give me a boost up. Ain’t no way I’m making that on my own,” He admitted, glancing at the other man. “Get me up there and I can pull you up.”

As ever, at the obstacle, he immediately stands back, assesses and calculates, reaching the conclusion that it would take the both of them, even as Mayfeld continues to look for another option, a non-existent lower section or access point. 

In an ideal situation, they would take this information they had already gathered––about the general layout, the fortification, the other defensive measures, the numbers––and regroup, plan for each facet and ensure that the operation can proceed without a hitch tomorrow night or some later date beyond that even…

But this isn’t an ideal situation or even close to it. This is life or death, and they don’t have time to waste.

He can’t lose Issa, too.

When Mayfeld speaks, he gives no verbal answer. He simply moves to the wall, hunching down, linking his hands together, and bracing… and then looking to him with a nod.

[dreadxreckoning]

[ @weallneedtosleep​ continued from here ]

“Oh, I know we will,” Mayfeld smirked. “ ‘Cause I ain’t planning on dying anytime soon. Been through enough already, don’t think the galaxy’s gonna throw anything worse at me. Besides, don’t think Gavril’s gonna let anything happen to you either.”

There’s a burst of a laugh at that, sudden and maybe a little loud, but she recovers herself, a smirk of her own in place at his assessment. No, she has no doubt that Gavril would do everything in his power not to lose someone else, same as she would do for him.

Of course… it would seem that now someone else isn’t just limited to Gav where she’s concerned, or her for him, and the deliberate way the other says that Gav won’t let anything happen to her makes it clear that maybe he hasn’t realized that yet.

“Y’know… I’m not the only one Gav won’t let anything happen to,” she begins and if her expression softens just a little, that smirk seeming a little more like a smile, well, it’s nothing to think too much about. 

“… And I’m not just looking out for Gav anymore, either.”

[dreadxreckoning]

[ @weallneedtosleep​ continued from here ]

Mayfeld stood looking at Gavril quietly as if he was thinking about how to answer.

“Yeah, yeah I have. If the offer of a bunk is open, I am more than willing to stay. Need a place and all that.”

At the affirmation, the fact that he had made a decision, Gav turns his chair from his work desk––parts for a blaster strewn across it––to look at Mayfeld, giving him his undivided attention. 

It isn’t quite a smile that appears at the answer, but there’s a light to his eyes and the barest upturn to the corners of his mouth. [ It’s often the closest he gets since they lost her. ]

“The offer still stands.”

Pushing to his feet, he extends his hand to the other to shake.

“Glad to hear you decided to stay.”

[dreadxreckoning]

[ @weallneedtosleep​ continued from here ]

Migs had gone back to the sleeping quarters to get changed after a job and was in the process of pulling his shirt off and over his head when he heard Issa’s voice behind him.

He stilled instantly, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“KRIFF….” he muttered to himself as he pulled the shirt back down to cover up the large scar running over his back.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s nothin’.”

Seems they both had the same idea. Go back to the crew quarters and get changed.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she says, but she won’t say anything beyond that, won’t push. Scars are stories. They’re personal. Even the sight of them can tell more than some would wish to be known.

So she will leave it be.

Issa simply strolls right over to her wall and starts going through the drawers below her bunk, getting out sleep clothing. She might sleep. She might not, but she’s at least going to be comfortable.

She glances at him, one eyebrow rising and the slightest upturn to the corners of her mouth as she tries to tease, to lighten the mood.

“Don’t let me stop you. I’ll behave myself and not look.”

And with that, she climbs up into her top bunk and settles with her back to him… right before she proceeds to strip off her own shirt, revealing a myriad of scars littering her own back… were he to be looking, of course.