#dankfarrikdrables

But the kid, as usual, surprised him.

He caught the kid tapping it against the wall of his pram, ting-ting-ting, a musical little pattern; he saw the kid swooping it above his head as if pretending it was a starship, its leather thong a contrail whipping back and forth. Once he saw the kid hover the gleaming skull over a puddle with his powers, before letting it drop and giggling loudly at the resultant splash.

And sometimes, when the hubbub and bustle and madness of the day slipped into weary, exhausted night, the kid would curl up beside him, clutching the pendant in one hand; he’d rest it against Din’s breastplate, and the tink of beskar on beskar was sweet like a lullaby.

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My first prompt for this @dankfarrikdrabbles​ game! 5 lines, 5 minutes, 2 randomly selected topics (1 object and 1 emotion). I rolled  94: Swimsuit/Swimwear + Tired.

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Din exhaled slowly as Grogu finally escaped his arms. The little one looked up tentatively at him, seeking reassurance, and he nodded calmly. Funny how he couldn’t leave his side fast enough to join his friends earlier, but now he seemed so unsure. His hesitation didn’t last long though, and soon he was happily joining in, wading in the shallow water along the shore with the other toddlers.

The decision to visit Sorgan and its emerald lakes had been a spur of the moment thing. They both needed to recharge – him especially, as the child was full of his usual never-ending energy – but it had required one extra stop, first. Din didn’t want to have to go through the whole process of having to wait for Grogu’s one change of clothes to dry again. So he’d procured the smallest pair of shorts he could find, in a blazing but strangely fitting purple color, but they had still required a few adjustments to fit the kid properly.

And now, finally, Din could rest.

The sound of pleased coos, splashes of water and happy squeals reached his ears as he sat against a tree trunk and inhaled the smell of pine trees in the sun. This was the smell of Sorgan. This was peace, safety, and warmth.

He knew he could safely close his eyes – other adults were nearby keeping close watch of their children. But for now, he just wanted to observe his own kid: happy, carefree and untroubled.

Yet now he pored over forgotten star charts and fragmented old maps, searching for somewhere they could hide from the fire he’d brought down on their heads, and deep space pressed all around them. He stared at the charts long in the endless night, until his eyes crossed, until his head pounded, as the Razor Crest’s vibrations hummed quietly in the background.

He blinked dizzily at the little garden world flickering on the edge of the Rim, mumbling “Sorgan, huh?” That might work.

He hadn’t expected an answer to his tired query beyond the Crest’s familiar sounds. But a little green hand tugged gently at the end of his cloak, and Din, fighting back a yawn, leaned down to pick the kid up.

The kid let out a warbling little noise, peering out at the distant stars from Din’s lap. “They’re far,” said Din. “But don’t worry, kid. We’ll get there.”

He yawned, gazing out into the long, cold dark. “We’ll get there.”

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