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snippet post time! well, one snippet.
this is the Home Out In The Wind Epilogue Post-Quel Featuring Everyone Getting Drunk On Yavin IV.
Kes was letting Poe hold him, in front of people, so Poe didn’t let go. “It was my first insight,” Kes said, “into how fucking difficult parenting can be. You’ve taken most of your heart and put it into a separate external container where it’s really easy to get at and break. Sometimes I think I’ve spent your whole life having my heart broken over and over again.”
“And here I thought I got my dramatics from my mother’s side,” Poe said. The others were all discussing the destruction of Alderaan, and not paying attention to the Damerons.
“Oh, no,” Norasol said, proving that it was unwise to discount her attention span. “Kes is a hundred times more dramatic than you’ve ever managed to be, Poe. Shara’s family really had no gift for drama, that’s a Dameron thing all the way down.”
“I dunno,” Kes said, “she could really pour it on when she needed to.”
“I guess it’s unfair to say a Dameron thing,” Norasol conceded. “I think you got it from your father, Kes. He was an absolute drama monster.”
“Let’s not pick on Molo,” Kes said.
“Did he die on Alderaan?” Poe asked, since so much information had been forthcoming thusfar. He knew all about his grandfather– his mother’s father– and almost nothing that he could recollect about his other one.
Kes shook his head. Norasol made an odd noise. After a moment, Kes raised his head and looked at Poe. “I’ve told you all about him,” he said. “He’s the one who died for the Rebellion.”
Poe blinked, trying to recollect it. He had a vague understanding of the family tree, formed over many years of overheard arguments between his father and auntie– great-aunt, really, Norasol was, though he was hazy on her actual relationship to him, but she’d more or less raised his father, so she was more or less his grandmother, but that actual title was reserved exclusively for Lita, who’d died with Alderaan and occupied no space in Poe’s memory at all firsthand, but secondhand loomed large as an absence that Norasol and Kes both had spent his whole life keeping space for.
There was no such space for a paternal grandfather. Only Abuelo, also known as Yaya, who Poe had known and loved through all of childhood, and had been unprepared to lose as a teenager. Mama’s papa, Yaya, Sento, a small-framed dark-skinned broad-smiling little man, clever and capable and understanding and quick of tongue, mild in reproach, unfoolable. Gone.
“Molo,” Poe said, coming up with the paternal grandfather’s name on a snap of his fingers. “Molo… something.”
“Untar,” Kes said, and looked at Norasol. Norasol looked back, and it was one of those Looks. The two of them had occasionally spoken in code, elaborate metaphors Poe could sometimes puzzle out, but more often, used Significant Looks to have conversations about him, and this was one of them.
“Oh, come on,” Poe said. “I’m not sober enough for you to mentally regress me to childhood like this. What?”
“You said you told him,” Norasol said.
“I did tell him,” Kes said. “Xacristo, I made a big deal out of it, I told the whole story, I even threw in the part where Cassian Andor made a pass at me!”
“Cassian who what?” Poe knew fine well who Cassian Andor was. Everyone knew who Cassian fucking Andor was. “I’d remember that, no way!”
snippet post time! well, one snippet.
this is the Home Out In The Wind Epilogue Post-Quel Featuring Everyone Getting Drunk On Yavin IV.
Kes was letting Poe hold him, in front of people, so Poe didn’t let go. “It was my first insight,” Kes said, “into how fucking difficult parenting can be. You’ve taken most of your heart and put it into a separate external container where it’s really easy to get at and break. Sometimes I think I’ve spent your whole life having my heart broken over and over again.”
“And here I thought I got my dramatics from my mother’s side,” Poe said. The others were all discussing the destruction of Alderaan, and not paying attention to the Damerons.
“Oh, no,” Norasol said, proving that it was unwise to discount her attention span. “Kes is a hundred times more dramatic than you’ve ever managed to be, Poe. Shara’s family really had no gift for drama, that’s a Dameron thing all the way down.”
“I dunno,” Kes said, “she could really pour it on when she needed to.”
“I guess it’s unfair to say a Dameron thing,” Norasol conceded. “I think you got it from your father, Kes. He was an absolute drama monster.”
“Let’s not pick on Molo,” Kes said.
“Did he die on Alderaan?” Poe asked, since so much information had been forthcoming thusfar. He knew all about his grandfather– his mother’s father– and almost nothing that he could recollect about his other one.
Kes shook his head. Norasol made an odd noise. After a moment, Kes raised his head and looked at Poe. “I’ve told you all about him,” he said. “He’s the one who died for the Rebellion.”
Poe blinked, trying to recollect it. He had a vague understanding of the family tree, formed over many years of overheard arguments between his father and auntie– great-aunt, really, Norasol was, though he was hazy on her actual relationship to him, but she’d more or less raised his father, so she was more or less his grandmother, but that actual title was reserved exclusively for Lita, who’d died with Alderaan and occupied no space in Poe’s memory at all firsthand, but secondhand loomed large as an absence that Norasol and Kes both had spent his whole life keeping space for.
There was no such space for a paternal grandfather. Only Abuelo, also known as Yaya, who Poe had known and loved through all of childhood, and had been unprepared to lose as a teenager. Mama’s papa, Yaya, Sento, a small-framed dark-skinned broad-smiling little man, clever and capable and understanding and quick of tongue, mild in reproach, unfoolable. Gone.
“Molo,” Poe said, coming up with the paternal grandfather’s name on a snap of his fingers. “Molo… something.”
“Untar,” Kes said, and looked at Norasol. Norasol looked back, and it was one of those Looks. The two of them had occasionally spoken in code, elaborate metaphors Poe could sometimes puzzle out, but more often, used Significant Looks to have conversations about him, and this was one of them.
“Oh, come on,” Poe said. “I’m not sober enough for you to mentally regress me to childhood like this. What?”
“You said you told him,” Norasol said.
“I did tell him,” Kes said. “Xacristo, I made a big deal out of it, I told the whole story, I even threw in the part where Cassian Andor made a pass at me!”
“Cassian who what?” Poe knew fine well who Cassian Andor was. Everyone knew who Cassian fucking Andor was. “I’d remember that, no way!”
