Detached | Boba Fett

8 ☠︎︎ bespin

I had been feeling pretty down about turning in the arms dealer to start a war between rebels for the Empire's benefit.  We didn't have much direction on how we could go about saving the Alderaanians, so Boba took us to Bespin to lay low for a bit.  Of all the planets I had visited during my insane adventure with Boba Fett, this was my favorite.

There was an infinity of soft, but vibrant colors taking up the sky as far as I could see.  The floating city glittered like a jewel among the wispy clouds covering it just enough to look enticing.  We were greeted by a suave gambler of sorts and then went to browse the beautiful cityscape.

"Now this is more like it," I said smiling as we walked on sidewalks showing off stunning views at every step.

"I thought you'd like it here," he said back quietly.

We found a spot to kick back and eat.  I was halfway through my Mygeeto burrito when I started looking at Boba's armor.

"Why green?"

Boba cocked his head in confusion. I gestured towards his armor and his helmet sitting on the table.

"Was it always this color?" I asked.

He stared at his helmet for a bit before opening his mouth to speak. "No, this armor used to be my father's. It was blue and silver."

"Now it's green and gold," I said looking at the battle worn helmet. It was very weathered. His armor was chipped and dented in places, showing how much Boba had been through and the hardships this armor had seen.

"Why did you change it?" I asked.

Boba looked away and shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "I wanted to make it my own. The colors Mandalorians give their armor holds meaning."

I nodded along with interest. "What does green mean?"

"Duty," he replied.

I wondered if that really applied to him. Was Boba a dutiful person? I scanned the rest of his armor, seeing the damage it had taken over the years. There was another color that stood out. I reached for his helmet, my fingers lightly tracing over the stripes along the top of it.

"And gold, what does that mean?"

His eyes flitted back to mine and then he sighed, looking down at his food. "Gold means vengeance."

"Vengeance?" I repeated. "Vengeance for what?"

Boba's fingers were now lightly drumming on top of the table. He didn't seem too fond of this topic. "My father," he finally said. "He was killed."

"Oh," was all I could say at first. "So you're going to get revenge?"

"I can't," Boba said with his hand clenching. "The Jedi who killed him is already dead."

"Well, that sucks..." I had heard mixed things about the Jedi, but if Boba felt like he needed revenge, I guess there was some truth to to the negative things people said about them.

"Yeah, I tried for so long to kill that shabuir myself, but someone else got him first."

I remembered Boba saying something derogatory in a different language to Laskaris the other day. "Is that.. Mando'a?" I asked.

Boba looked at me again with his eyes slightly widened and then he chuckled a little.

"Yeah, but don't use that word," he said.

"What, why not?" I asked crossing my arms.

"It's a serious insult."

"And what about chakaar?"