[ She's quiet when she wants to be. Very quiet. Boba finds himself thinking of their last encounter, when she had seemed to appear almost out of thin air between him and the saboteur. The memory still unsettles him.
He gives no verbal acknowledgement to her direction, just moves to the steering console and sets their course. He's heard that Jedi can sense lifeforms, though he uncharitably wonders if she's just doing her best to create that impression now. They've already been told the lake is full of the mutant fish. They'd probably find them no matter what way they went.
The boat proceeds in silence for several minutes, Boba staring out over the bow at the water beyond. As it turns out, the Jedi doesn't need to tell him to stop—the tumult of writhing, scaly bodies and blood in the water does that well enough. He slows their speed, stopping close enough to be within spearing range, but distant enough not to disturb what is apparently a feeding frenzy. A few ragged feathers left on the surface give a hint as to the victim's species.
He leaves the steering console and grabs his spear-thrower, positioning himself by the boat's edge. For a few moments, he'll simply observe. The fish are actually somewhat smaller than the rollerfish he and his father had hunted on Kamino, though they certainly seem more aggressive. Boba pinpoints one towards the edge of the swarm, scales rippling as it tries to push its way to the center of the mob. For the moment, he allows himself to ignore the Jedi—he can't allow for any distractions while lining up a shot. Silently, he lifts the atlatl to his shoulder and takes aim. Muscle memory does the rest. He adjusts for the refraction of the water, slowly exhales—and snaps his arm forward, throwing the spear in a deadly stroke. The projectile pierces the water and buries itself solidly just below the creature's right gill—but, while such a blow would have immediately incapacitated a rollerfish, this one is still very much alive and squirming.
It's clear from the frown on Boba's face that he's not happy with this result, even if it was a direct hit. He begins to reel in the fish, hoping to learn a little more about his catch—
—and doesn't make it very far before its peers begin devouring it as well. In mere moments, it's reduced to little more than a few scraps of bone and viscera hanging off the edge of the spear. He reels in the remains with a raised eyebrow. Looks like he'll be learning from trial and error, then. ]
no subject
He gives no verbal acknowledgement to her direction, just moves to the steering console and sets their course. He's heard that Jedi can sense lifeforms, though he uncharitably wonders if she's just doing her best to create that impression now. They've already been told the lake is full of the mutant fish. They'd probably find them no matter what way they went.
The boat proceeds in silence for several minutes, Boba staring out over the bow at the water beyond. As it turns out, the Jedi doesn't need to tell him to stop—the tumult of writhing, scaly bodies and blood in the water does that well enough. He slows their speed, stopping close enough to be within spearing range, but distant enough not to disturb what is apparently a feeding frenzy. A few ragged feathers left on the surface give a hint as to the victim's species.
He leaves the steering console and grabs his spear-thrower, positioning himself by the boat's edge. For a few moments, he'll simply observe. The fish are actually somewhat smaller than the rollerfish he and his father had hunted on Kamino, though they certainly seem more aggressive. Boba pinpoints one towards the edge of the swarm, scales rippling as it tries to push its way to the center of the mob. For the moment, he allows himself to ignore the Jedi—he can't allow for any distractions while lining up a shot. Silently, he lifts the atlatl to his shoulder and takes aim. Muscle memory does the rest. He adjusts for the refraction of the water, slowly exhales—and snaps his arm forward, throwing the spear in a deadly stroke. The projectile pierces the water and buries itself solidly just below the creature's right gill—but, while such a blow would have immediately incapacitated a rollerfish, this one is still very much alive and squirming.
It's clear from the frown on Boba's face that he's not happy with this result, even if it was a direct hit. He begins to reel in the fish, hoping to learn a little more about his catch—
—and doesn't make it very far before its peers begin devouring it as well. In mere moments, it's reduced to little more than a few scraps of bone and viscera hanging off the edge of the spear. He reels in the remains with a raised eyebrow. Looks like he'll be learning from trial and error, then. ]