A hush fell over the Caffe Florian as a tall man swathed in black robes stepped within the smoky room. Even with his Carnival mask obscuring his face, there was no mistaking who he was. No one else in Venice moved with such flare, such confidence.
Il Pilota.
The greatest gondolier in the city, knowledgable about every channel, every eddy, every current, able to navigate a gondola day or night, rain or shine, through any canal or even out into the ocean.
Sweating beneath his mask, Finn wished he had a fraction of the confidence that Il Pilota demonstrated with every dramatic sweep of his cape. If Finn had to approach the man he was doomed…but he wasn’t Finn, not that night, he was just another masked Carnival celebrant, another shadow out for the night, hiding from the storms outside in the lurid wonder of Florians. He waited until the hubbub around Il Pilota’s arrival died down, waited until the next celebrity graced the Caffe, and made his approach.
“Any amount you name if you can get me out of the city tonight,” he murmured as he passed close.
Il Pilota snagged his wrist. “No payment needed. All I ask is adventure and a story that will wow the city from scullion to doge come tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
(Send me a pairing and a setting or a trope or whatever and I’ll write a more or less three sentence ficlet)
Star Wars: Poe Dameron (2016-) #28 – The Awakening Part III – Written by Charles Soule – Art by Angel Unzueta
Artoo talking about his role in the galaxy.
Thank you for telling me all this. I know it can be hard to talk about, but war stories are important. These things can’t just pass into the night. I sometimes think it’s my destiny – to see things, to be present, to witness the galaxy moving, evolving. It happens to me over and over again – but even so, I can’t see everything. And so, I like hearing the stories. Recording them.
I really want more characterization of Artoo like this. Just a wise old man who has seen so much shit. And I love how solemn he was in that bit.
“I’m sure you did,” she spat sarcastically, voice raw and unyielding as she tugged hard against her restraints.
“A lifetime ago, yes,” he confessed, gently probing her Force Signature. “But you don’t remember that, do you?”
Through the Bond, he shared with her his memories of a life now long past — a life in which they were happy, a life in which he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.
“You’re… You’re lying,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes as she struggled to process the revelation.
“Not about this,” he sighed, carefully pulling away from her subconscious. “I loved you more than anything, Rey… And there will never come a life in which I won’t love you again.”
Rose stands before her groom, Finn is his name, silently reminding herself that this was a good idea, no matter what Paige had said. They needed someone on the inside, someone to get tactical information back to the D’Qar Kingdom and who better to do that than the wife of a general?
But as Finn bends to kiss her he brushes his lips past her ear, whispering so that only she can hear: “I know who you are and what you’re hear for and so do they so if you want make it through the week we’re both going to have to run.”
This is Not a Blog 