He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Were you ever this nervous, when you and Father were coming together? I know secondhand from Master Luke that at first, Father was convinced he was under your notice, but you were all working hard at taking the Empire down and so you had to interact. Father also tells things as if Lando nearly took your affections, although I can never tell where his grousing ends and the truth begins." The fact his parents had made it through those tough times regardless did give him hope, though. They had been from as different parts of the known galaxy as could be achieved in terms of wealth, culture and upbringing, but here they were all these years later.
"BB-8 is remarkably convincing at acting, despite lacking facial expressions. We should have the droid start teaching lessons in espionage."
Ben paused. When he spoke, his voice was a mixture of emotions: hope, uncertainty, something like raw amazement. "I had a vision. A child is in my future. I could not tell how old I was, only that somehow they had light colored hair and favored the baby blanket Uncle Chewie got me in my own infancy. It feels like tempting fate," he admitted, vulnerability in his eyes, "to dare to speak of it. I have not told Poe or Rey yet. Neither has ever made note of a desire to have children, and the child does not resemble either of them. Were I not witness to my older self holding the baby and calling him my son, my white-kyber - his hair was truly that shade of blonde - I would not have guessed him to be mine. Though he does," here, he snorted with self-derision, "get my large ears. Pity the child."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2017-10-17 08:52 pm (UTC)"BB-8 is remarkably convincing at acting, despite lacking facial expressions. We should have the droid start teaching lessons in espionage."
Ben paused. When he spoke, his voice was a mixture of emotions: hope, uncertainty, something like raw amazement. "I had a vision. A child is in my future. I could not tell how old I was, only that somehow they had light colored hair and favored the baby blanket Uncle Chewie got me in my own infancy. It feels like tempting fate," he admitted, vulnerability in his eyes, "to dare to speak of it. I have not told Poe or Rey yet. Neither has ever made note of a desire to have children, and the child does not resemble either of them. Were I not witness to my older self holding the baby and calling him my son, my white-kyber - his hair was truly that shade of blonde - I would not have guessed him to be mine. Though he does," here, he snorted with self-derision, "get my large ears. Pity the child."