[She hears the ocean in her ears, eyes closed, chest and diaphragm and rib cage heaving with desperate pants - an attempt to catch the breath she's lost.
She dreams of the dark, black sea on Lah'mu. How often she'd stare into its impossible depth, conjuring up creatures who could have lurked beneath the light-drained surface. How her Mama had kept such a watchful eye on her adventurous and curious daughter, knowing that she could be lead by a glittering stone underneath its waves.
She dreams of the grotto on Wrea. Sitting at the perch of it, Maia at her side, the others splashing in the water below and out of sight. She remembers the first time Staven invited her to join the others for a drink; she'd been 12 then. He clapped her back and roared with laughter when she first spit out the fermented bantha milk, then whooped when she gave it another go and finished the glass.
She dreams of those last moments on Scarif. Finally fearing death and the loss it brought for the first time in her life, clutching onto the one thing that promised her a future.
When she re-enters herself, her eyes don't open right away, but her lids tremble with consciousness. She wiggles the fingers resting lightly on his breathing form, feels the slickness of perspiration. Breathes in the heady scent of sex and musk and sweat, mixing with rust and metal and oil. Subconsciously squeezes around him as nerves misfire in their descending state, feels the trickling of him escaping her and puddling on the ground beneath her. Feels his pulse - in his chest and down below. Wonders at the weight of him on top of her - in no way oppressive or hindering, but .. grounding. Assuring.
Her eyes slowly open to stare blankly at the ceiling as she remembers what had driven them into the freight elevator in the first place. I should have known you my whole life. The war should never have happened to either of us. We should have had all that time.
We did know each other our whole lives, she thinks. We fought alongside each other in our own battles, fighting against our own demons. We were with each other through comrade death and skirmishes that made us expel our breakfasts outside of the ring. We were with each other in the cold feel of a durasteel blaster and the smell of ozone. All of those things lead us to each other, but we'd already known each other before we met.
She exhales a heavy sigh, though it isn't one of sadness. It's one of gratitude.
Her hand traces itself through the strands of his hair gently.]
I would do it over again. If it brought me here. If it led me to you.
action] (OH THAT ART IS LOVELY)
She dreams of the dark, black sea on Lah'mu. How often she'd stare into its impossible depth, conjuring up creatures who could have lurked beneath the light-drained surface. How her Mama had kept such a watchful eye on her adventurous and curious daughter, knowing that she could be lead by a glittering stone underneath its waves.
She dreams of the grotto on Wrea. Sitting at the perch of it, Maia at her side, the others splashing in the water below and out of sight. She remembers the first time Staven invited her to join the others for a drink; she'd been 12 then. He clapped her back and roared with laughter when she first spit out the fermented bantha milk, then whooped when she gave it another go and finished the glass.
She dreams of those last moments on Scarif. Finally fearing death and the loss it brought for the first time in her life, clutching onto the one thing that promised her a future.
When she re-enters herself, her eyes don't open right away, but her lids tremble with consciousness. She wiggles the fingers resting lightly on his breathing form, feels the slickness of perspiration. Breathes in the heady scent of sex and musk and sweat, mixing with rust and metal and oil. Subconsciously squeezes around him as nerves misfire in their descending state, feels the trickling of him escaping her and puddling on the ground beneath her. Feels his pulse - in his chest and down below. Wonders at the weight of him on top of her - in no way oppressive or hindering, but .. grounding. Assuring.
Her eyes slowly open to stare blankly at the ceiling as she remembers what had driven them into the freight elevator in the first place. I should have known you my whole life. The war should never have happened to either of us. We should have had all that time.
We did know each other our whole lives, she thinks. We fought alongside each other in our own battles, fighting against our own demons. We were with each other through comrade death and skirmishes that made us expel our breakfasts outside of the ring. We were with each other in the cold feel of a durasteel blaster and the smell of ozone. All of those things lead us to each other, but we'd already known each other before we met.
She exhales a heavy sigh, though it isn't one of sadness. It's one of gratitude.
Her hand traces itself through the strands of his hair gently.]
I would do it over again. If it brought me here. If it led me to you.
I would it all over again.