Working on my script for May the 4th and took a break to write something my brain wouldn’t let go of.
Boba: Mandalorian’s have always been, and always will be Mandalorian’s. Fancy swords or not.
Kryze: The Darksaber is more than a sword. I don’t expect an aruetii (outsider) to understand.
Boba: Oh, I understand Princess. I understand rich pricks with entitlement issues. I understand their need to gain power, to rule over those they see as lesser than them. Excluding them from the club, but keeping them under heel.
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Din: Why should I keep it? It’s just a fancy sword, as you said. I didn’t want this.
Boba: Mh, I did say that. Power is corruptive Djarin. I am intimately familiar with it; how it moves, how it changes.
Din: It’s a poison.
Boba: It’s a drug. Once taken, eventually abused. It becomes a festering need, an itch, a hunger never satiated. It’s never enough and you seek to gain more.
Din: I don’t want this.
Boba: But you have it. And maybe I’m a fool but, so do I now. We can make this work together.
Din: Boba - sounds like you’re already chasing the high.
Boba: Could be, or maybe its my natural optimism.
Din: Tch. This is how people get addicted, Boba. Thinking they’re special enough to change things.
Boba: Got nothing to do with being special, Din. Only smart. Smarts landed us where we are, and smarts will lead us onward. Not forever but maybe long enough to do good.