Something cute with Dogma and a Jedi?
I see a Jedi and raise you a bunch of soon-to-be Jedi.
Dogma doesn’t know what he expected when he went into the Jedi creché. It certainly wasn’t a herd of younglings painting diamonds onto his armor with their fingers, but that is exactly what is happening.
A little Rutian-skinned Twi'lek girl grins gaptoothedly at him as she dips her hand in bowl of yellow paint, and dabs a bright yellow angled square right where his heart would beneath his chestplate.
Another wookie boy with gobbets of paint in his dark fur paints two on each of his shoulder pieces.
By the time the younglings are done, and it takes a long time for them to finish up, there’s next to no white left on his armor. Dogma finds that he doesn’t mind, even if it’s horrendously beyond regulation.
When the younglings were sent to bed, Dogma shuffles over to the Jedi that had suggested he do this in the first place.
“Hey, uh, that really helped. Thank you, ma'am.”
Bant Eerin smiles at him. “I told you it would, Dogma. Next time, try to believe me.”