Regrouping

[idontneedluck]

Some would imagine a desert world cannot have seasons.

Some would be wrong.

They had come with the first night of plunging winter cold. They came with monsters with metal feet throwing fire, with orders muffled by static, with enough of an army that the Guardians hadn't so much been bested as over-run.

The new Governor was not interested in prisoners, especially not in a blind monk who developed a raspy cough after a fight to exhaustion and a few nights in a freezing cell.

Chirrut huddles in an alcove of the market, out of the thin wind that rises out of the desert. No one comes near him, out of fear of their new oppressors, but no one takes advantage of him either... he doesn't know if it is out of respect for what he was, or fear of a more immediate retribution.

He doesn't care much. The Force isn't speaking to him, he has no idea where the others are, and he feels a Hutt sat on him.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

"I will eat - you should clean up first, before you're all over blood." Chirrut chides, visibly trying to get himself back under control. He stifles a rasping cough as he finds his way to the table, feeling carefully with hands and feet. "Do you need help with the patches?"

[iprotectyou]

"Probably not," Baze says, pulling a chair out for Chirrut and guiding him to it. The bigger Guardian plucks up the bacta patches from the tray. "I'll get cleaned up, then. Feel free to eat, but don't eat mine, or I'll kill you."

Baze heads to the 'fresher room, happy to scrub off the dried blood and grit taken from several days' worth of combat. He disrobes and stands under the sonic system, sound waves breaking up the grime. He waits until he's completely clean, and then applies the bacta patches to the wounds arching fire across his ribs down to his hip. Baze dresses again, ignoring the filth on his robes. He exits the refresher room feeling eighty percent better.

"All right, Chirrut," Baze says. "Your turn."

[idontneedluck]

After neatly dividing the rice and curry in half (or 40/60, at least, Baze is larger and will need more)

(30/70, he's not quite as hungry as he thought and Baze has been injured, it's logical)

...

(look, he took some, okay?)

He has dutifully finished his portion, whichever fraction it is that he ended up with... mostly. He feels heavy and claggy, and he blames it entirely on crying. It always stuffs up his sinuses and makes the world feel muted.

He stands though, when Baze returns, glad to trade the smell of the blaster injury to the more medicinal one of bacta.

"I was going to see if you had fallen asleep in there." He teases, gravel still ground into the pitch of his voice.

[iprotectyou]

Baze makes his way over to the table, his steps light despite his bulk through ingrained habit. He pulls out a chair and sits down carefully, trying not to aggravate the blaster burns. "Chirrut," he says, glowering down at their food. "I seem to have more curry than I used to have. What's the meaning of this?"

[idontneedluck]

"I don't know, it looks the same to me." He replies, blithely innocent, or at least as close as he can hit that mark at the moment. "You should eat up, though."

He's just going to escape to the 'fresher now, and get rid of some of this prison stench.

[iprotectyou]

Baze sighs. "Thank you," he says to Chirrut's retreating back, and starts wolfing down the curry. It's lukewarm, but still delicious, with some form of spiced poultry mixing with the more mundane potatoes and squash. He makes sure to leave some for Chirrut after all, despite his own grumbling stomach. He then crosses to the bed and stretches out on it, nearly falling asleep by the time Chirrut gets back.

[idontneedluck]

When Chirrut returns he's chaffing his arms and shivering - there might be heaters in the 'fresher, but they're having trouble competing with the outside cold now that the sun has gone down. Or at least that's the story he's telling himself, because he's not going to get sick, he already decided that.

"Ugh, I hope your friend doesn't expect us to be early risers." While that is his norm, he also hasn't slept safe in days - he fully intends on being positively slothful tomorrow. Tugging his sleeves down over his hands, he carefully treads toward where he has inferred that the second bed should be.

[iprotectyou]

Baze yawns, propping himself up on his elbows. "I doubt it," he says. "Let's sleep in. We're safe here, for now. Oh, and I left some curry for you. You should eat it before it gets cold."

That said, Baze rolls over in bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. He makes a facsimile of snoring, but it's not too long before his breathing evens out and he's well and truly asleep.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut sits on the edge of his bed and listens for a while. When this day started, he had been almost certain he would find Baze again, and had been trying (unsuccessfully) to come to terms with that. This is... this is more than he could have ever asked for.

Quietly, so as to not wake Baze, he slips off of the bed to kneel as he has since he was a small child. For such riches, he should give thanks.

"The Force is with me, and I with the Force..." The meditative susurration of words fills the room. Some time later, Chirrut wincingly pushes himself back up to his feet and into the bed. He knows, distantly, that the uneaten food will cause a fight tomorrow... but that is tomorrow. Tonight, the Force can take care of the rest.

[iprotectyou]

The two days in the Blue Rose pass too quickly. There was indeed a fight over the unfinished curry, mostly because it was a waste of food, but Baze finished it anyway. Sarai sends them off with a pouch of food and a couple of water bottles, and wishes them well.

Once out on the streets again, Baze wastes no time taking out Imperials wherever he can find them patrolling at night. He even manages to steal one of their E-11 blaster rifles and some ammo from a downed trooper. Using it isn't that difficult, and he discovers that he's not a bad shot.

Soon, however, he and Chirrut decide that they need to find him a proper stick. "I don't have any more favors I can call in with friends," Baze says to Chirrut, turning away from a nearby garrison of Stormtroopers patrolling the market. "Especially not with weapons suppliers. Where will we find you a stick?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut...

Is distracted.

He knows this is probably not a good survival skill, with Imperial troops on edge and Baze gone vigilante. He keeps reeling his focus back, and grimaces at the question, but...

....

He shakes his head like a wet dog. Here. Now. He really needs to focus.

"I suppose I can learn to be without one, for a while, at least." He has the echo box transmitter they scavenged and Baze managed to repair, something he hasn't had need of for years, not since he was a child still learning the dimensions of the world. It helps him deal with the ancient and degrading architecture of Jedha as a whole, however, so he won't complain.

[iprotectyou]

"Chirrut?" Baze says, clasping his shoulder with the hand not holding his rifle. The older Guardian steers his friend into a safer alcove, where there aren't so many Imperials breathing down their necks. "Are you all right? You seem preoccupied."

[idontneedluck]

"I am fine, it is..." He trails off, head cocked as if listening to something faint and far away. "I know that sound."

He just can't place it, with so many other noises and distractions in the way.

[iprotectyou]

"What sound?" Baze says, pulling his hood over his head again, to better hide his features. It wouldn't do to be recognized in the broad daylight. A fight in the middle of the bustling crowd could be disastrous. "Do you need to follow it?"

[idontneedluck]

"Yes." There isn't any hesitation in that answer, or in the way he hooks his fingers in the shoulder strap of the rifle and tugs, leading the way through the tangle of the crowd. Now that he's given himself over to the thing he's as focused as a hound on the scent, taking an unwavering path towards the outer walls of town.

[iprotectyou]

Baze follows dutifully, even though he has no idea where his friend is leading them. He dodges people in the crowd--and once steers Chirrut into an alcove to let some Stormtroopers pass--but otherwise doesn't interfere with Chirrut's dogged pursuit of this mysterious sound.

[idontneedluck]

They turn down a disused alley way - once part of a larger street until construction blocked off easy access, it is only occupied by stray rats.

"... Baze." Chirrut's harsh whisper sounds almost gutted. "It is kyber." There is a doorway at the end of the cul-de-sac, and Chirrut makes for it unerringly.

[iprotectyou]

"Kyber?" Baze says, thoroughly disbelieving. "I thought the Empire snatched up all the kyber crystals."

He ducks through the open doorway, inhaling the scent of dust and stale air. Baze has no choice but to trust in Chirrut's extra senses--ones Baze doesn't understand. If Chirrut says there's kyber, then there's kyber. "What is it doing here?"

[idontneedluck]

"I don't know." Inside is a sanctuary, built in a similar if more primitive style than the temple proper. Near the back, against the wall, are items laid out almost ceremoniously - a dark brown cloak gone stiff with age, a pair of metal gauntlets...

A staff. The wood of it is knotted and heavily grained, the metal grip engraved... and there is a lantern on the top, dark for now.

Dark until Chirrut reaches out and grabs the staff. Silvery light spills from the lantern, lighting the room in a steady glow. Chirrut spins the staff experimentally, a contented smile spreading across his face.

[iprotectyou]

Baze whistles. "It wanted you to find it," he says reverentially, grasping Chirrut's shoulder. "The Force is with me, and I am with the Force. Is there a kyber crystal in the end?"

[idontneedluck]

"Yes. It is just a sliver, but its song is so sweet. Can you hear it?" He feels completely relaxed, as if he were back walking the grounds of the Temple, without a hint of Imperial interference.

[iprotectyou]

"No," Baze says, shaking his head. "I'm not as connected with the Force as you are. I don't mind. I'm just glad you have a stick."

He chuckles, running his fingers along the staff, and stopping before he hits the lantern. "Now we can really take down those Imperials."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut grips Baze's shoulder, grounding and sure.

"Our people will be rid of them." There is unshakable confidence in his voice, his renewed faith a core of steel.

[iprotectyou]

"Then what are we waiting for?" Baze says, his smile vicious. He's sure Chirrut can hear it in his voice. "Shall we wait until night and test out your new staff?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut worries, Chirrut will always worry, about how Baze is finding solace in violence... but he doesn't have any alternatives to give.

Besides. He still has so many who are lost who must be avenged.

"You do think of the most interesting outings." He agrees, his smile less bloodthirsty, but content.