Chirrut Imwe

Baze doesn't laugh, as much he wants to. Instead, he joins in joyfully, scooping dirt into the pots with his hands. The song is cheerful, and Baze's voice is as pure as spring water, deep and husky. He matches Chirrut's tenor with his own base, his song rising from deep within his chest. He prays for blessings on the squat, twisty trees, on the rare, poisonous deeku flowers, and the carnivorous plants, too.

It's a perfect song for the purpose.