OOM/IM: The Letters

[iprotectyou]

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Baze in possession of tastebuds, must be in want of tea. He ambles up to the bar after morning forms, sweaty and tired but content, his now twice-as-heavy--thanks to Ibani's cortosis core--staff slung across his shoulders. He leans it across the counter, and pats the bar.

Bar provides a cup of tea--oolong and almond--and a datapad.

Curious, Baze picks up the pad and tests the tea, making an appreciative hum at the taste. He reads the first couple of lines.

Then he drops the cup.

He needs to find Chirrut.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut settles in Baze's hold, picking up the letter again.

"When do you think they'll find out? About NiJedha - they'll probably assume we were still on planet at the time." He asks, sadly tracing the edges of the pad.

[iprotectyou]

Baze can't help the hitch in his breathing. He tries to contain the sound, but it escapes him before he gets a handle on it. He'd like to busy his hands with pouring tea, but the sapir hasn't finished steeping yet. He cuddles up to Chirrut instead, seeking comfort.

"I don't know," Baze says, his words choked. It's the first time Chirrut has willingly brought up the city to Baze, and he doesn't know how to deal with the unexpected wellspring of grief. "I doubt the Empire would be bragging about it. They might have wanted to cover up the 'test' of their weapon. And news travels slow, especially if our orphans didn't have access to a holonet. So... six months?"

The possibility that they might get another letter settles like a stone in Baze's chest. He almost doesn't want one.

[idontneedluck]

"I suppose it would be wrong to write back." Chirrut muses, wistfully. He loves heaven, he truly does, he loves the freedom from fear and the joy of hearing prayers from Baze's mouth again. He loves freedom from hunger, and the ridiculous amount of choice. He loves his tea trees, and Baze's brewery.

But he can long to reach out to these lost Jedhans.

[iprotectyou]

Baze settles against the wall, chewing on Chirrut's words. "Yes," the larger man says eventually. "Yes, it would be. Very much so. They'd think it some horrible joke--and even if we did convince them it was real, I wouldn't want to get a letter from the dead, would you?"

He turns to the now-steeped tea, and pours the steaming beverage into the two mugs. After pressing one of the cups into his friend's hand, Baze wraps his free hand around Chirrut's shoulders. "I'm ready to finish the letter. Are you?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut keeps a sulky reply that he wouldn't mind a letter from the dead so much to himself - it's a bit of a lie, anyway.

"Yes, I am... let's see what trouble they've gotten themselves into."

[iprotectyou]

Chirrut's reading voice is as soothing to Baze as the sounds of the dead city, and he soon forgets that he has tea in his hands. Baze finds himself laughing to tears at the prank Althin pulled on his shipmates, and proudly recounted in his letter. The larger man sobers at news of Kaya, the matriarch, and her selfless devotion to the children. Denic, the pilot of the ark and Baze's dear friend, gets a cheer when Althin explains how she taught the orphans to navigate the stars.

The letter is long, and thorough, mentioning something about every single orphan that fled Jedha eight months ago. Baze wonders when the missive was written, and how long it took to write. He curls his toes at the end of the beds, leaning against his friend.

"They're doing well," Baze says, beaming. "They're alive and well. We're not the only ones."

[idontneedluck]

"They're thriving." Chirrut agrees, his fingers rereading the farewell over and over. "They're thriving, and they're self, well out of the Empire's focus."

They're all safe now, despite how the war rages on.