#gnkdroids

jabba’s palace is always an unpleasant place after the first sunrise. the night of indulgences usually leaves it littered with passed out bodies, extinguished pipes and spilled drinks. but before the second sun follows the first one over the desert, there is a small window of time during which boba can almost tolerate this hovel. probably because of the silence. he finds a seat that isn’t covered in something sticky and pulls out his datapad, ready to sort out the daily business. it’s peaceful, not that boba is well acquainted with the concept.

a glass crunches underneath a boot and he immediately lifts up his helmet, catching solo in an attempt to sneak out. they make eye-contact. boba tilts his head to the side, a substitute to a raised brow. 

the place on dalhousie.

They tap the translator on their suit, like the error in communication isn’t Andy’s inability (if it even is an inability, and not just an outright lack of trying) to pick up that sarcasm, but something much simpler. Something fixable. The translator clicks and buzzes, like they’ve just broken it, but as long as there are no sparks and no zaps, they will continue on.

the others.

> I won’t be the one crying in a minute. [+2 Intimidate] > Shut up.

send a sentence.

There is a faint smile that can be seen less in Luke’s lips and more in the wrinkled skin stretching around it. His eyes are warm. He shakes his head fondly.

         “I wish you wouldn’t.”

It is an unspoken admission Luke is too weary to talk around: there is a way, in fact, there are many ways, and I ask that you do not start us down a single one.

When he is alone, Luke counts within him every failing like he’s counting each speck of ash of every fallen padawan. He will never finish. But he must try anyway.

Luke will find a planet empty of intelligent life. He will land there. He will sink his ship in the closest body of liquid. He will build a hut. He will walk a path and count every boulder he sees and take comfort in the static amount. He will eat what he can catch. He will glower at what he can’t. He will meditate twice a day while counting his repleting failings. He will let his hair grow long, longer than Leia’s. He will not use the Force. He will be alone. He will remain. He will do no harm. He will do this every day.

How might the days go if Han convinced him to stay? Luke’s eyelids flutter shut for a moment. He does not let himself imagine. He does not deserve even the abstract idea of it. Low and plainly:

send a sentence.

There are many truths that have been kept from Luke. Had he known them all sooner, how much could he have saved?

His gaze grazes along Han’s shoulder, a shy hunger. His head tugs away. Softly: