keepcruising | (no subject)

When Kobra had been told that he would be serving as Obi-Wan's squire, he hadn't been sure what to expect. Normally jobs like this go to men with better breeding, but Kobra's managed in the last few years to smile his way into people forgetting that he grew up on the streets of the capitol.

When word had come that a remote village near the borders of the old forests to the north had seemingly lost communication, several messengers had been sent one by one and none of them had returned. After months without successful contact, it had seemed that only a Knight could reach it and report back, so here they are only a few days of riding away from facing whatever is causing this. He should be nervous, but he isn't.

Instead of worrying about what the coming days will bring, he's assured himself that Obi-Wan is a more-than-capable swordsman and that they will get out of this in one piece and make it back to the Capitol to report what they see there.

The sun is just peaking through the trees as Kobra slips out of his bedroll in the brisk morning air to get the fire started for breakfast. He might not have all of the skills of a squire at one hundred percent, but cooking on the go is something he's mastered.

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It's always easier for Kobra to take things as jokes. Joking has helped him through quite a bit in his life where his older brother had found other methods for coping. Even now, it's an easy fallback for him when he doesn't know what to say.

He smiles as he takes the cistern. "Used to dream 'bout a warm fire like this on cold nights." And just like Obi-Wan, he's not quite sure if it really is a joke or a revelation of something quite personal.

There are two potatoes resting in the little fire and slowly heating up as Kobra pokes them with a stick to check on them. "Should be warmed through now."

Carefully, he removes them both from the flames so the outside can cool enough to touch. It might not be the most flavorful meal, but having gone many times without anything, Kobra's not one to complain about anything this filling. It will give them much-needed energy for riding all day.

Boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, potato soup — they might as well be potatoes, for as often as they find themselves eating nothing but that. There's no room for complaint, though, when there are so many around thin from the season, starving in the cold. Almost indefinitely, Kenobi is humble in that regard.

"Thank you," he finally says, somewhere between grateful and tortured. Having a companion, while inconvenient, has certainly kept him from slipping into the clutches of despair. On the other hand, he's finding quite quickly that he's fond of Kobra, and he's not so sure that'll do when they're facing what could potentially be the end.

Obi-Wan rubs his hands together, leaned close to the fire for one moment, allowing himself the barest of mercy against this unrelenting chill.

"We'll have fish for dinner. I'll see to it," he says. It would be their last decent meal before they were expected to see action, and therefore an unceremonious offering. Really, it's all he can do not to say sorry we might die soon.