(no subject)

[imthepilot]

Bodhi's room is simple and narrow. Nothing more than a bed, a locker, a fresher and a writing desk.

There's nothing personal here. He has nothing. Owns nothing.

Is nothing.

Comments

[imthepilot]

"Flooded mountains." Bodhi blinks, trying to imagine it.

[cook_the_rude]

"I can show you pictures," Hannibal says. "Funny to imagine that the truly alien landscapes of our own planet will be terrassed mountains."

[imthepilot]

"It's the only way I could picture it. There isn't enough water on Jedha for such things"

[cook_the_rude]

"But you have been flying all over the galaxy, haven't you?" Hannibal asks.

[imthepilot]

Bodhi shrugs and holds Myrrh to his chest. "I went where I was sent. Supply runs mostly. Imperial depots look much the same everywhere."

But then there was Eadu and the relentless rain. "I rarely got more than a day's leave anywhere."

[cook_the_rude]

"Did they at least pay you well if you didn't get any leave at all?"

[imthepilot]

"Well enough." He nodded. "When you come from nothing, a little goes a long way." He sniffs softly, food forgotten. "I got my sisters off world before things got bad. Somewhere they could get an education. They have a better chance now."

[cook_the_rude]

"Don't let your curry get cold," the doctor with Galen's face says. "How many sisters do you have?"

[imthepilot]

Bodhi picked up the bowl and took another spoonful, tasting more than eating.

"Three. But only the younger two survived to adulthood." He says it very matter of fact. As if it wasn't unusual to lose siblings like that.

[cook_the_rude]

"Was that very common where you are from?" Hannibal asks.

[imthepilot]

He nods, resentment leaking into his voice. "I grew up in the slums of my city. A lot of children died in ways that should have been prevented."

[cook_the_rude]

"That happens in slums all over the multiverse," Hannibal says, sadly. "Some things, unfortunately, never seem to change."

[imthepilot]

That doesn't cheer Bodhi any and he curls a little tighter, keeping one hand on Myrrh. Her presence is very comforting.

[cook_the_rude]

"How old was she?"

[imthepilot]

Bodhi strokes Myrrh who jumps up into his arms. "She was ten. I was six at the time."

[cook_the_rude]

"I am sorry."

Long pause.

"Misha was three. I was twelve."

[imthepilot]

"I'm sorry." Bodhi nods. "Were you... was she unwell?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Very bad times," Hannibal says. "It was in Soviet Russia -- a regime apparently not entirely unlike your Empire. Our parents had been killed already. I ended up in an orphanage for the next three years."

[imthepilot]

Bodhi listens, nodding and sympathetic. "You... found a way free?"

[cook_the_rude]

"My uncle, who lived in the West -- away from Russian influence -- and his Japanese partner found me and essentially bought my freedom of the Soviets," Hannibal says. "The rest of my youth, I spent with them in Paris."

[imthepilot]

Bodhi nods. "My grandmother, she came back to Jedha to find us. She... rescued my younger sisters and me."

[cook_the_rude]

"That is good," the doctor with Galen's eyes says. "What had happened to your parents?"

[imthepilot]

"My mother isn't- wasn't... her Way preferred group marriages, and communal raising of children. I don't know which of the men in that group was my father. And once weaned, mothers rarely have much to do with their children." He shrugs, eyes lowered. It's a bitterness that might never fade.

[cook_the_rude]

"It was a cult?" the doctor guesses. "How did they raise their children, if the mothers didn't?"

[imthepilot]

"Not a cult..." There's not a lot of conviction in his voice. "Just... the sort of twist of good religions you get in poor areas. Where people want to believe something that makes them feel more... in control." It's a pragmatic defence.

"The Way said that children should be raised by the community, to share the skills everyone has. But what it means in practice is roving packs of street kids that no-one takes responsibility for."