Cassian Andor (rebelspy) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-12-24 22:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, r: diego rojas |
WHO: Diego Rojas
WHEN: A few weeks ago, during the first snow of winter
WHERE: Their front courtyard area
SUMMARY: Diego takes the girls out to play in the snow, and he remembers Fest.
WARNINGS: Naaaaah, it just involves a bit of child soldiers. :(
Mechanical sounds drifted up the road, giving away the presence of what was an army of clone troopers and support vehicles below -- or at least what seemed like an army to a child. There were a dozen or so children crouched behind boulders of ice and snow, watching and waiting. Cassian Andor was among them, all of six years old, ready for his moment. He could hear his father’s voice in his ears: “remember, they’re not people, they’re just machines and clones, they can’t feel anything. That’s why they hurt us, because they can’t feel like we do.” (Years later, he’d learn how incorrect his father’s simplified tale was, but it worked on a six year old, and that was all his father really needed in the end.) “They’re not like us,” he whispered to a boy beside him. The boy was younger than he was and he was trembling. “They’re here to hurt us.” They were words Cassian had heard before, words he was echoing now to give courage to another child. They had a job to do; even he knew at six that if one of them failed, they might give it all away. The children waited. And they waited. Finally, one of the older boys gave the signal from across the road, and a barrage of rocks and ice filled the sky. “Down with the Republic!” a boy shouted, just before one of the clones turned their blaster on him. A few children screamed and ran from their posts, but not Cassian. He waited, and he watched. When one of the clone troopers was close enough, Cassian emerged from his hiding place and took aim. His rock hit it square on the helmet -- not enough to kill the trooper, but enough to knock it off-balance and to give the other children some courage. He scrambled for another rock from his stash and aimed again, before the trooper could get up. “For Fest!” “Papa!” The first snowflakes of winter had fallen outside their window earlier, much to the delight of Molly and Hannah (Hannah, who was now old enough to really appreciate it, unlike the year before). They’d run back and forth between Diego and the front window until they’d been able to convince him to go out. It hadn’t taken much, truthfully; he wanted to play in the snow as much as they did. The first snow of the season was always one of the most magical. The other was snow on Christmas morning, and there was really no competing with that. Even well into adulthood, it was hard to ignore the siren call. There was something about the first snow that inspired the children inside nearly everyone, assuming that person wasn’t some sort of scrooge. Being a father and watching his childrens’ excitement made it all the more special, though. When he didn’t respond fast enough to her calling out for him, Molly rolled some snow up in a ball and tossed it at him, hitting him right in the stomach. Diego nearly jumped a mile out of his skin, startled out of his -- what was that? Daydream? -- by the impact. For a moment, he looked around with wide eyes, expecting to see clone troopers or Republic walkers around. Instead, he saw his daughters looking up at him, confused expressions on their faces. Molly was the same age as one of the children in his daydream, he thought. She was the same size. It took another few seconds for the adrenaline to fade enough for him to engage. “I think…” he started, drawing his words out with suspense, “someone’s gonna pay for that.” The girls squealed and ran -- or rather, Molly ran and Hannah toddled after her as best she could. Their giggles trailed after them, and Diego felt the chill that had briefly settled in his chest start to melt. There was nothing to worry about here, he reminded himself. There were no clone troopers. They didn’t exist. What he’d seen wasn’t real. Maybe if he told himself that enough, he’d believe it. |