Work Text:
Thunder. There was no escape from the kriffing thunder. It was everywhere.
Boba stared at the page of Mando’a questions in front of him, blankly. Once, buir (always buir, even in Basic) had taken him to a pretty forest, one without rain. Kriffing rain. Though...Yeah, it was annoying, but at least it was always kriffing there.
“Kriff!” he said aloud. It was a fun word to say.
He missed his buir. All the ba’voduse were great, but Boba—as childish as it was—just wanted to play with model ships with his buir again.
Boba hopped down from the bunk, leaving the problem-books behind, and scurried to find Fordo. Fordo was always nice to him. But Fordo was probably teaching a group of the command vode, and Boba was definitely not a part of that group. He began roaming through the endlessly familiar corridors, reminded again of a trip with his buir, to some rocky mountains. There, there had been rain, but it had been rain they could touch. Here the rain was kept behind a glass shield, out of reach.
Boba frowned, and plopped down right there in the corridor. He moved to the side, of course, buir had told him to be better than that. Buir had told him a lot of things though. For example that he would be back nearly half a day ago.
From down the hall, Boba heard the raucous laughter of the Nulls, ba’vodu Kal’s along with them. Kriff Boba missed his buir.
He ran back to the apartment, feeling that kriffing thunder begin to form in his own chest. Unlike Kamino, though, he would not be letting his clouds release their water.
Why would he? His buir never cried.