#rys

From “Sharing the Same Face” of The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark (2020) based on the episode “Ambush” from The Clone Wars (2008).

Their minds were open and their emotions were strong. In the Force, they reminded Yoda of children. That made him smile—he liked to say that over his centuries as a Jedi, he had learned more about the Force from younglings than he had from Jedi Masters. The clones craved his approval and wanted to please him. But they were worried they would be unable to complete their mission and would wind up ashamed. To fail would be to prove unworthy—to their general and also to each other. Yoda made a hmm noise down in his throat as he considered that. The clones’ instinct to obey disturbed him a little, particularly since they were humans. Raucous and impatient creatures humans are. And too brief their lives are. End they do just as maturity and wisdom become possible. But the clone troopers weren’t ordinary humans. He’d felt the difference the minute he stepped aboard a gunship back on Kamino, at the beginning of the war. The clones had been altered almost from their birth in Kamino’s labs. They’d been engineered, like machines, their brains changed to make them better soldiers. And their rate of growth had been drastically accelerated, Yoda reminded himself. If the clones felt like children in the Force, perhaps that was because in some ways they still were. Made for war these children were. Made by the millions. Disposable their makers consider them.

Yoda was still pondering that when Rys lit a portable lamp, showing the weapons laid out for his inspection: three blasters, a pair of damaged rifles, and a rocket launcher. “We’re low on ammo, sir,” Jek said. “Only two grenades, and one rocket for the launcher.” “Against a battalion?” Rys asked. “Forget it, we’ve lost.” Yoda told himself to stop brooding about the clones’ origins. However disturbing he found their need to be led, it was his duty to lead them. And their mission was his, as well. He picked up the two damaged rifles and stacked them atop each other, then ignited his lightsaber. “So certain of defeat are you, hmm?” he asked, lowering the blade of his Jedi weapon so that the metal bubbled and softened, then pressing the broken rifles together until the molten metal formed a weld. “With respect, General, maybe you should go on,” Thire said. “Let us slow them down.” “All around us is that which we need to prevail,” Yoda said, handing the makeshift metal crutch he’d created to Thire. “Come. Sit. Your helmets, remove them. Your faces I wish to see.” The clones hesitated but removed their helmets. In the lamplight their armor’s red markings—the color of the diplomatic service—were a muddy brown. “Not much to look at here, sir,” Thire said, his voice fuller and deeper without being filtered by his helmet’s communications system. “We all share the same face.” “Deceive you, your eyes can. In the Force, very different each one of you is.”

Comforting

Time for hug

Reach for the 🐉 hug!!! For Rys ARt by me.

Better quality (maybe?)

Happy Star Wars Day  😸🎉💖💖💖