OOM: Harvest Festival

[iprotectyou]

The delectable scents of roasted, imported squash and pumpkin fill the Temple of the Kyber today, as the harvest festival of Jedha is in full swing. Baze has been greeting pilgrims who are here to see the kyber all day, and has decided to make a beeline for the kitchens. Caramel Gor apples await him, and he licks his lips as he heads down the halls, keeping an eye out for Chirrut.

The threat of the newly-established Empire is a persistent, gnawing sensation in the back of Baze's mind, one he tries not to pay too much attention to. Chirrut has decided to stay and protect the kyber, and Baze has begrudgingly chosen to remain by his side. All Baze can do is try to remain cheerful, despite the peril breathing down his neck.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Baze sees him coming, and doesn't go wide. Instead, he meets Chirrut head on. Baze slams the end of his stick into the ground and uses that to balance himself as he aims a tight, controlled kick at Chirrut's chest.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut, wheezing, stumbles backwards onto his ass.

That... wasn't what he was expecting, at all.

After a minute to catch his breath (and to gingerly explore his ribs to make sure he didn't crack one) he flops back on the paving stones, and giggles.

[iprotectyou]

Baze chortles, lowering his guard. He'd like nothing more than to lower himself to the courtyard stones and rest a bit. Wait, that's not true--he'd like nothing more than a shower with real, hot water. He's never had one before, and he thinks they'd be amazing for aching forearms and sides.

He steps forward, resting the staff on his shoulders, and offers a hand to his wayward friend. "Want some more squash seeds, Chirrut?"

[idontneedluck]

The crowd, finally loosening out of its stunned silence when Chirrut went down, erupts into applause. Chirrut grabs Baze's hand and leverages himself up onto his feet.

"Please. And maybe some Caramel Gor apples - I heard them dipping some earlier." He scoops up his fallen staff with a lazy kick and heads for the edge of the ring. He trades out the sparring staff for his own gratefully, and on their way out of the courtyard, he drops the visor on the head of a wayward child.