It's Not the Heat, it's the Humidity
Feb. 11th, 2015 10:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icon_ukIt was many years before he stopped judging a world by it's humidity, and what it's air tasted like. Definitely the signs of someone who had grown up scraping a living on a moisture farm.
The air of Tattooine was all he'd known for nearly 20 years. It tasted hot and dry for most of the year, hot and slightly, vaguely, damp during Harvesst.
Even after Second Set the air never really cooled, and he'd never been able to afford to go anywhere which had REAL air cooling.
He could never judge Tattooine harshly for that though, it was his baseline awareness for most of his life.
The air on the Millenium Falcon, his first ever closed enviroment spacecraft, had tasted of recycled... something... something with a lot of fur that didn't shower often... He was never sure if that was Chewie or Han and never dared ask.
The air on the Death Star was cold, and clinical and tasted of industrial cleanser. He never wanted to recall that taste.
The air of Yavin 4 was unlike anything he had ever known; The humidity had struck him like a brick wall as soon as he had walked down the Falcons ramp. His first reaction had been what a marvellous moisture harvest Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru could have had here, and that made him sad for a time. The planet had been incredibly beautiful, but the memory of that first thought always saddened him.
Hoth had been cold... absolute cold. He'd never known cold before, not in the air itself. It was exhilarating, feeling it burn his nostrils with unrelenting cold. Cold was all he ever remembered from that place, that and the lingering scent/taste of Bacta.
Dagobah had made Yavin 4 seem like Tattooine by comparison. The humidity was all but visible here, and the smell of swamp haunted him for months.
Until the Forest Moon of Endor he'd never known a place could SMELL green. The trees of the endless forests, all that strange alien green-ness. He'd seen pictures of course, but nothing could prepare a desert dweller for expanses of greenery that covered entire continents.
It was there he'd seen his first real river, fresh water just cascading along the ground. It had struck him as somehow wrong.. wasteful. Another sign of his upbringing. he thought with a smile.
He wondered when he'd get to visit an ocean world, there were many of them apparently, but the Rebellion had never had a base on one. He was determined to see an ocean, to see more water than his family could harvest in a year wash up on a beach in less than a handful of seconds.
And after that... who knew?
The air of Tattooine was all he'd known for nearly 20 years. It tasted hot and dry for most of the year, hot and slightly, vaguely, damp during Harvesst.
Even after Second Set the air never really cooled, and he'd never been able to afford to go anywhere which had REAL air cooling.
He could never judge Tattooine harshly for that though, it was his baseline awareness for most of his life.
The air on the Millenium Falcon, his first ever closed enviroment spacecraft, had tasted of recycled... something... something with a lot of fur that didn't shower often... He was never sure if that was Chewie or Han and never dared ask.
The air on the Death Star was cold, and clinical and tasted of industrial cleanser. He never wanted to recall that taste.
The air of Yavin 4 was unlike anything he had ever known; The humidity had struck him like a brick wall as soon as he had walked down the Falcons ramp. His first reaction had been what a marvellous moisture harvest Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru could have had here, and that made him sad for a time. The planet had been incredibly beautiful, but the memory of that first thought always saddened him.
Hoth had been cold... absolute cold. He'd never known cold before, not in the air itself. It was exhilarating, feeling it burn his nostrils with unrelenting cold. Cold was all he ever remembered from that place, that and the lingering scent/taste of Bacta.
Dagobah had made Yavin 4 seem like Tattooine by comparison. The humidity was all but visible here, and the smell of swamp haunted him for months.
Until the Forest Moon of Endor he'd never known a place could SMELL green. The trees of the endless forests, all that strange alien green-ness. He'd seen pictures of course, but nothing could prepare a desert dweller for expanses of greenery that covered entire continents.
It was there he'd seen his first real river, fresh water just cascading along the ground. It had struck him as somehow wrong.. wasteful. Another sign of his upbringing. he thought with a smile.
He wondered when he'd get to visit an ocean world, there were many of them apparently, but the Rebellion had never had a base on one. He was determined to see an ocean, to see more water than his family could harvest in a year wash up on a beach in less than a handful of seconds.
And after that... who knew?