jedishope
sunlight is fading fast. the waves below the cliff are crashing against it, picking up speed as the wind pushes them forward. there was no time tonight to begin working on the ship. when the sun goes down, there will be nothing to light the way. although ach-to isn’t necessarily dangerous by any means, at least not where luke is concerned, it is still much safer —- better, to go in when the light is out. he’s going to have to turn and back to the safety of his hut. but… his eyes glaze over to the boy once again —- cain. what should he do about him ?
he could leave him here, of course. that’s always an option. the island is safe enough that he shouldn’t come to much harm. yet… it doesn’t settle well with the former jedi. he doesn’t think he could take the idea of leaving someone to defend themselves in unfamiliar territory. it wasn’t like luke to do so such a thing.
with a sigh, he opens his mouth to speak, to invite the boy back to his home, but he’s interrupted by the question and his eyebrows raise once again. he glances back at the porgs. the poor creatures are shaking, shivering. he knows that they’ll head back to their homes soon, anyways. still, the question causes a bark of laughter from him. it was so unusual —– he must not really be used to other life forms, then.
he shakes his head. “ the storm is about to scare ‘em off, anyway. don’t worry about ‘em. they’re harmless. as long as you don’t put your fingers in front of their faces. ” his eyes twinkle in mild amusement.
when the first rain drop hits his nose, luke knows it’s time to head in. he pulls his hood up over his head and motions to cain to follow. “ if you want to follow me, you can stay for the night. it’s not much, but it’ll be warmer than your ship, i reckon. ” he pauses, eyes glancing upward as lightning strikes across the sky. “ unless you’d rather stay out here, of course. ”
hospitality is not something he is inherently used to. the fact of the matter returns to him in splendid bursts; he is nothing more than an ex-trooper, an ex-asset of a mass murdering organization hellbent on wiping out any who go against it. to imagine that someone would be kind enough to grant him shelter - even temporarily - is asinine to him. a fantasy fever dream brought to the waking world with the help of a stranger && a few mixtures of unsightly && annoying! this isn’t to say that he’s not thankful, though: the instant he comprehends what the other has offered him, both to fix his ship && to shelter him, he finds himself overwhelmed by an unknown emotion. a splendid mix of gratitude && relief floods him - he feels canines sharpen. a brief tint of green overcomes his cheeks. the signs are gone as quickly as they came, quickly swallowed && buried. he knows it can be rather… unsettling to see someone switch pigment from one hue to another, like a canvas that was never truthfully meant to be painted in such a way. nonetheless, when his calm returns to him, he shifts his weight from foot to foot && clears his throat. the best course of action, he imagines, is to stay with the other for the time being: he has a rifle to defend himself with, even if such an attempt may prove to be useless against someone who has mastered what he has tried for so long to destroy by proxy. ❛ i think i’ll take you up on that offer. ❜ he tries for a laugh && smile, rain beginning to pitter down against his jacket. on instinct, he raises the hood && allows it to cover viridian edges && pointed ears. in the best case scenario, he imagines, the other will have food - oh, good food. not the slop he’s endured, nor the horrid by-the-numbers cooking that appears all too frequently around him. he wonders if the creatures that adorn the island taste good… ah, but this thought is hastily pushed to the side. given the fact that many of them are still staring at him, thinking about what they may resemble flavor wise isn’t the best idea for any party. ❛ if you don’t mind me asking, though, ❜ it’s a cursed question. something he has rarely had the chance to inquire about with anyone, given his prolonged sense of contentedness with referring to others by supplied designations. . ❛ what can i call you? ❜ he words it in a way that - with any luck - doesn’t imply the necessity for full honesty. he doesn’t need a thousand titles nor a life story; only a few words, numbers, letters, things he can use to put a temporary name to a temporary face.
