Balm for the Soul

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut spent this morning scrubbing the flagstones.

This is not unusual.

Chirrut has spent every morning since the harvest festival scrubbing the flagstones, once Master Sheotar got wind of his 'gifting' the hated visor to a visiting child. Since then, she hasn't cared if someone else has just cleaned the courtyard, or if it is freezing outside... it needs cleaning. And Chirrut is the one to do it. Until she gets tired of it, which isn't looking to be any time soon.

Stashing away the rags and bucket for another day, Chirrut goes in search of Baze. He has plans, amazing plans, and they require Baze.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Baze is currently where he has been for the last few days when Chirrut has been cleaning the flagstones: in front of the HoloNet. The vids have been taken over by the Galactic Empire, so Baze is gleaning what information he can through all the propaganda. It makes him rather dour, but still he watches, trying to absorb the goings-on of the galaxy.

He feels somewhat guilty for not assisting Chirrut in cleaning, but Master Sheotar informed Baze that he'd be put on probation if he helped. When Chirrut finds Baze, he doesn't even notice his friend enter the room, so fixated is he on the holoprojector.

[idontneedluck]

"Some day I'm going to drop that thing off the city walls." Chirrut grumbles, irritably tapping his staff on the legs of Baze's chair. The holoprojector brings nothing but anger and fear these days, and Chirrut is royally sick of it.

"Come, I have a better plan than listening to that thing all day."

[iprotectyou]

As the reporter drones on about Stormtroopers and their holy Emperor Palpatine, Baze gives Chirrut a hollow look. "What is it?" the older Guardian says, his shoulders hunched, partly protect him from the bite of winter cold and partly because of his sour mood.

"It better not involve going outside. Outside is freezing right now."

[idontneedluck]

"No, really? I didn't notice, scrubbing the courtyard." Chirrut drawls, picking his way around furniture to try and find the off switch on the dratted machine. Turn it off, or knock it onto the floor - he's not sure which is the better plan but one of those will happen. "Of course outside, everyone in here is talking about that thing."

[iprotectyou]

"Right, I forgot you were out there," Baze says, resting his hands between his knees. His posture is slumped; there's little of his former cheer. "Sorry. I guess we can go. What did you have in mind?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut decides right there and then he would see to the demise of the holoprojector. Not right now, of course, Baze was sure to protect it.

But he'd find a way.

"The winter market is underway, of course." On Jedha, 'winter' is just a more fierce variation of cold. It is the mixture of cultures and peoples that created the winter market, a bright spark of holiday defiance against the gathering cold.

[iprotectyou]

"Oh," Baze says, curling in on himself. "I'd forgotten. I suppose we can go to the winter market."

He straightens, a little, and eyes the holoprojector. The reporter has switched to describing tarrifs that the Emperor has enacted on Outer Rim planets. Baze stands and cups Chirrut's elbow. "Lead the way."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut hurries away from the static of the reporter's voice, glad to leave that horrible thing behind. He takes a winding path through the temple, giving no explanation when it takes twice as long as it should to reach the outer doors, and refusing to correct his course.

(He's avoiding Master Sheotar again - he overheard that she has a new model of that hated visor, and he's prepared to go to fairly extreme measures to never encounter it.)

Outside the cold is brutal, and Chirrut's course becomes more direct - there is noise and warmth and joy in the market, and Chirrut wants to be part of it.

[iprotectyou]

The frigid temperature outside doesn't come as a shock to Baze, but it still makes him blink a few times as he gets used to it. He shivers, already regretting abandoning the relative warmth of the temple.

He feels numb inside, hollow and distended, as if he's spent a night crying--or, rather, as if he needs to. His plodding step as he follows Chirrut lacks all of Baze's usual grace and lightness. The market holds great promises of light and happiness, and Baze prays to the Force that coming outside is worth it.

[idontneedluck]

The swirl of music and voices and light ahead envelops them into the heaving crush of bodies. Chirrut smiles, the last of his anger at the universe outside of Jedha melting away from his narrow frame. Almost immediately he tugs Baze aside, bartering for a quick moment and emerging triumphant with a bag of roasted klee-klee nuts, cradled carefully in his hands.

"Eat, eat, I can't have you fainting from hunger."

[iprotectyou]

Baze does as he's told, crunching the klee-klee nuts between his teeth mechanically. They're delicious, which gives him pause. He licks the salt off his fingers. "You should have some too, Chirrut," Baze says, reaching into the bag for another handful. "What's next in the winter market?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut balances the rapidly emptying bag in one hand and takes two, savoring the warm rich meat of the nuts. As he does so, he studies Baze, thoughtfully, his brow creased.

"Better." His expression clears and he smiles, sunlight-bright. "Come on!" He whirls, confident he won't put a foot wrong, and untucks his staff from under his arm. Using it to feel his way (and to not-so-subtly make a way for himself) he plunges further into the market. The stall selling shining metal lanterns, all lattice work and impossibly complicated patterns of metal and light, has his attention at the moment - the chiming of the lanterns when they hit each other is quite charming.

[iprotectyou]

Baze realizes with a start that he's still hungry, and that the nuts are the first food he's eaten today. He's disappointed that they are gone, but he's actually starting to look forward to visiting the rest of the market--especially with the promise of more food.

"Oh, Chirrut," Baze breathes, looking at the lanterns. "These are beautiful. I wish you could see them."

He matches Chirrut's smile with a more timid one of his own, following dutifully behind like a somewhat lost puppy.

[idontneedluck]

Well, that decides it for Chirrut. That's the first happy tone he's heard from Baze in... well. For long enough that it's almost startling. Unacceptable. He runs his hands along the rows of metalwork, searching... ah.

The tiny lantern is cradled easily in his hand, the intricate metalwork is interspersed with brightly colored cut glass, and it rings pleasantly when Chirrut flicks a nail against it. Perfect.

The bargaining is the work of a minute as the overworked stall keeper doesn't have much time to spare, and soon Chirrut is looping the chain around his arm to keep the lantern secure.

"There, I'm told these things help you see, now you won't complain about me wandering off."

[iprotectyou]

Baze snorts, clearly amused by his friend's teasing tone. "It will help me pick you out of the crowd in the dark, yes," Baze says, clapping a hand on Chirrut's shoulder. "But the crowd is thick tonight, so I might still lose you. The lantern you picked is very pretty, by the way."

The next stall Baze is drawn to in their wandering is one that serves hot, mulled cider--with an optional shot of brandy. He declines the alcohol, and purchases two ciders--one for him and one for Chirrut.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut takes his gratefully, tucking his staff back under his arm to cup both hands around the mug, absorbing the heat. The drink is sweet and strong, carrying with it the taste of warmer times and spices from far-off places.

"We should find you more food." Chirrut declares definitively, turning his head as if scanning the crowd. "You are becoming skinny."

[iprotectyou]

Baze barks out a fierce laugh. "Skinny?" he says, patting his own rotund belly. "You must be blind. I'm not skinny. Though I wouldn't say no to more food. What do they sell here at a winter market?"

He takes a gulp of cider, holding it in his mouth to savor the warmth, thoroughly enjoying the cloves and cinnamon. The cup empties far too fast for his liking, but by the time he's polished off the drink, his chest is warmed and his face tingles.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut gasps, though his smile is ridiculously broad.

"You would mock a blind man? Fine, see if I share any food with you." He hands his emptied mug back to the stallkeeper, and re-deploys his staff to make a path to where he can smell roasted vegetables and spices. He doesn't check to see if Baze is following - that he would never doubt.

[iprotectyou]

"You're surprised, after all these years?" Baze says, grinning as he returns his cup to the shopkeeper. "I'd say you are a fool as well, but I know better."

Baze soon has a plate of roasted peppers and couscous, which he digs into with gusto. He thanks Chirrut and the stall keeper, pleased with the fact that he's eating dinner.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut could kiss the shopkeeper if it wouldn't require abandoning his meal and Baze. He has never said it, but he's been becoming desperately worried about his friend.

That holoprojector won't survive the week, he swears.

Instead of kissing the shopkeeper for her skill which has finally inspired Baze to eat properly, he begins slipping Baze more food under the guise of having him taste one thing or other, or 'trading' pieces that are 'too spicy' while neglecting to actually take a piece back in that trade.

He thinks he's being sneaky.

[iprotectyou]

Baze knows exactly what Chirrut is doing, but the larger Guardian is still hungry, so he allows the smaller one to carry on "trading." Baze eats a second plate, and everything Chirrut gives, and it's only then that the older Guardian's hunger is abated. He returns his plate and fork to the shopkeeper with his thanks, and cups Chirrut by the elbow. "Let's see what this place has for dessert."

[idontneedluck]

"I see nothing, you're out of luck." Chirrut deadpans, "Truly it is a tragic night with no sweets for the great Baze Malbus to eat..."

[iprotectyou]

Baze offers Chirrut a little shove--not hard enough to knock him over, and certainly not hard enough to push him into the crowd around them. Just enough to impart Baze's opinion that Chirrut is ridiculous.

"Don't they have gingerbread cookies in every winter market?" Baze says, standing on his tiptoes and peering around at the stalls. "I'm sure they do. And candied popcorn, if I recall correctly."

[idontneedluck]

"Mmmm, gingerbread." Chirrut hums reverentially, and after a moment latches on to Baze's sleeve as he starts to plow a way through the crowd. The dark sweet scent he can pick out at a thousand paces - this is child's play.

[iprotectyou]

Baze follows at a steady pace, easily keeping up with his friend. The larger Guardian trusts the smaller one to find what they seek, glad he has a nose that's a thousand times more functional than Baze's.

By the time they find the gingerbread stall, festooned with red and white paper cutouts of hearts, the treat is almost sold out. Baze haggles with the shopkeeper and manages to come away with four gingerbread Wookiees, two of which he hands to Chirrut, and two of which the older Guardian chows down on.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut inhales the rich scent up close, his smile beatific. One of the cookies he stashes inside his robes for later - they just don't make gingerbread right in the temples, so he intends on making his treat last. This he doesn't share with Baze, savoring each bite like it might be his last.

"Now you need to help me buy my freedom from scrubbing - if I get someting especially pretty for Master Sheotar, maybe she'll relent." Chirrut orders between bites of cookie.

[iprotectyou]

Baze finishes up his Wookiees, disappointed that they didn't last as long as he would have liked. He's finally full now, though, so there's no reason for him to go get more.

"Hmm," he says, rubbing his chin. "Perhaps a bracelet? I saw some nice charms on the way here. But, Chirrut, I doubt Master Sheotar will allow herself to be bribed. You earned the scrubbing, you know."

[idontneedluck]

"It's worth a shot." He doesn't tell Baze that he'll probably be in more trouble before the week is out, since he has plans to ensure the second visor meets the same fate as the holoprojector. Now is not the time, not when he can hear the smile in Baze's voice.

"Now where are these charms? You will have to pick the colors." He declares, with a tone that insinuates that he's still not entirely convinced colors exist, and may be some grand plot on Baze's part.

[iprotectyou]

"I don't know what colors she'd like," Baze says, shrugging helplessly. Unlike Chirrut's, Baze's shrug fits his frame, having copied the gesture from watching other people rather than feeling it out. "Blue and yellow might go with her skin; it's rather dark brown."

Baze cups Chirrut's elbow and leads him to the charms table, where the shopkeeper has laid out small trinkets so people can make their own bracelets. "What do you think, Chirrut?" Baze says, encouraging him to feel out the tiny talismans.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut's face loses expression while he figures out what the tiny forms are, his attention all at the pads of his fingers. Finally he selects two - one a delicate stylized soaring bird, the other a tiny Guardian in the third form of zama-shiwo.

"One of these, I think - what do you think?"

[iprotectyou]

"I like them both," Baze says. He is the least helpful. "But I think she'd like the Guardian better. Make sure you get the bracelet in gold."

Baze allows Chirrut to haggle for the charm and its bracelet, looking over the metal pieces. Music catches Baze's attention, a rousing tune played on a Bandfill by a Kiffar, near-human species from the Azurbani system. She's accompanied by a small, blue-skinned Ortolan on a Fanfar.

"Chirrut," Baze says, clasping his shoulder. "Let's dance."

[idontneedluck]

"Baze," Chirrut sighs as he tucks the bracelet safely away, "You know as well as I do that I'm useless at dancing."

...

Says the man renown for his skill in martial arts. Without even a trace of shame.

[iprotectyou]

Baze grumbles, scratching his cheek. "No, you're not," he says, dragging Chirrut over to the circle of people kicking their feet and twirling around. "Come, come, let's dance. The music is playing and my blood is hot."

Baze takes Chirrut's hands in his own and tries to spin around with him.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut protests the whole way there, but manages to stow away his staff in its sling against his back, and while he makes a show of resisting Baze's spin, he doesn't trip or actually step on anyone's toes.

The tune changes to one intended for a circle dance, fast and cheerful and bright. Chirrut reaches out a hand as he spins and unerringly finds a bystander, hauling them into the dance as well.

[iprotectyou]

Baze laughs, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulders and dancing his heart out. The larger Guardian's steps are back to gracefulness despite his husky frame, cheerfulness inundating his person. His thoughts are light, focused entirely on the circle dance and enjoying himself. He hasn't had this much fun since the Empire was established.

[idontneedluck]

The Force sings in this moment, this place - with his arms around Baze and a complete stranger, flying through the dance as the beat goes faster with each rotation - it is louder, clearer here than in many attempts at meditation. Joy is almost a physical presence here, joy and hope and life.

If Chirrut could take a moment out of time and keep it as a prize, this one could be the winner.