(no subject)

[idontneedluck]

The air outside is biting and dry, the ice both muffling and accentuating - footfalls disappear, but the crack of a lightbow echos loud across the lake. At the firing range, Chirrut puts in the necessary practice to keep his aim true. His staff stands behind him, held up by a snowdrift.

Eventually he'll come inside for tea, hands blanched and cheeks red from the cold.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Baze crunches through the snow, stomping his feet to alert Chirrut to his friend's presence. He's carrying a bag of spare parts, a cup, and a thermos of tea.

"Hoi, my friend!" Baze says once he's in range.

"May the Force of others be with you. I've brought you some sapir."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut lowers the lightbow, its muzzle resting just above the snow. His face is wreathed in a smile, nearly as bright as the red of his cheeks.

"Mmm, tea, thank you, just what I needed."

[iprotectyou]

"I figured you were freezing out here," Baze says, beaming. He sets his bag down in a snowbank, unscrews the thermos, and pours the tea. It steams in the frigid air. Baze crosses to Chirrut and presses the handle of the mug into his hand.

"How's practice going?"

[idontneedluck]

"My aim's drifted a little - too much soft living." Chirrut laughs, self-deprecatory. "The masters would have my head. It's improved a little since I've come out here, so that's something."

[iprotectyou]

Baze caps the thermos and crosses back to pick up his bag. He clears a patch of snow with his foot and sets the thermos down on the ground. Baze laughs when Chirrut does, though the larger Guardian's is sympathetic.

"Well, 'living' isn't exactly the right word, but terminology is difficult. I know what you mean. When I finish my lightbow, I'll have to learn how to hold a bowcaster again."

[idontneedluck]

"Yes, handing it off to me like some poor dead thing isn't correct form." Chirrut snickers, sipping his tea. He knows it isn't extra hot, but it seems so out here, in contrast to the air. "I'm going to be massaging that shoulder nightly, aren't I?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze reaches into his bag and withdraws the pieces necessary to make a trigger system, as well as a screwdriver.

"Are you offering? I wouldn't turn it down. Speaking of, do you want a massage tonight?"

[idontneedluck]

"Yes, and yes, please - I'll be stiff as a board and about as useful tomorrow morning, I suspect." The lightbow has a kick that, while manageable, tends to need full body control to counter. "Never mind the cold."

[iprotectyou]

Baze sets his bag down and begins making use of the screwdriver. He shivers in the cold; he'd be even colder with his armor on, he knows.

"After a bath to warm you up, then," Baze says, pragmatically, though his tone then switches to teasing.

"Maybe you should be out here shooting more often. Then I can give you more massages."

[idontneedluck]

"I really should be. Who knew being dead would be so busy?" Chirrut asks plaintively as he settles back into stance.

[iprotectyou]

Baze laughs, shaking his head. He tightens more screws on the trigger system.

"We've always been good at filling our time. I like our afterlives, don't you?"

[idontneedluck]

"Oh no, all of this smiling has just been to exercise my facial muscles." Chirrut teases, before settling for a long moment and taking his shot. "Mmmph. That sounds off, is it off?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze winces at the question.

"Slightly," he admits, selecting another tiny screw.

"You're pulling to the right."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

There is a big man walking through the snow nearby, in the company of a smelly but non-carnivorous animal that bleats while he fondly chides it in a surprisingly light and gentle voice for such a massive presence.

"Oh!" he says when he's closer to Chirrut. "What kind of weapon is that?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut lowers his weapon, tilting his head to gauge height as he listens to the man speak.

"May the Force of others be with you." He answers, cheerfully. "I am Chirrut Imwe - I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Ragnar Lothbrok," says the big man with the light voice and the bleating animal. "I hadn't said yet, nor seen you before. I was gone for a while."

[idontneedluck]

"Ah, that would explain." Chirrut agrees pleasantly, his gaze fixed somewhere over "Welcome back, then."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Thank you," Ragnar says. "What does 'force of others' mean?"

[idontneedluck]

"The universe is bound together and suffused through with the Force. Its power comes from the energy of living beings - all is of and creates the Force. Thus, when we rely on that power for guidance, it is not our own strength we lean on." Chirrut explains, his voice falling into a well-worn lilting pattern. It's clear he's given this explanation more than once. He's still happy to do so.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar nods, the furs he is wearing rustling with it. "We have gods for that."

Beat.

"Is it that Force of Others which makes your bolts fiery?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut does not desire to convert anyone to the ways of the Force (except Baze). Jedha was home to a multitude of religions - he certainly didn't spend his time trying to convert people.

"No. That is plasma." He replies simply.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Oh.

"What is plasma?" Ragnar asks.

[idontneedluck]

"It is, as you say, what makes my bolts fiery." Chirrut replies cheerfully.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"But how does it work?" Ragnar asks. It's probably too complex to adapt for his world, but he is often curious for curiosity's sake.

[idontneedluck]

"Little cold out here for an academic lesson, don't you think?" Chirrut suggests, not entirely sure why this fellow is so demanding of a perfect stranger, but not inclined mindlessly answer them.