[ her tears start to dry on her face, a sticky pale line down red, irritated cheeks. for a minute, she is terribly painstakingly still. even the tempest of her emotions goes quiet. there is peace.
she hadn't expected that. stars, she's not even entirely sure how to interpret that, or what it means, or— but those questions don't plague her just now. it's … reassuring. whatever it is. in part because she can feel him so clearly, and there's no hint of ulterior motive there. some confusion, perhaps, but …
he'd done it for her. plain and simple.
any question she asks will be too much, as it had been the night of the ambush. she understands now. he, like her, has no measure for this. no tools to equip them to process it or recognize it or even name it. for that reason, she is struck by a sudden speechlessness. anything she can think of to say is the wrong thing.
instead of risking destroying another relationship tonight, she slowly scoots off the edge of the bed. she's shaky still, simultaneously frayed and exhausted and yet still adrenaline high from all of this, but she makes her way over and sits beside him against the opposite wall. she doesn't touch him, though she ostensibly seeks that same sort of closeness as comfort.
she's tired of being alone. at least like this, she feels as though they are in one another's company, and not intruders on some private space. and when she folds her arms over her obi, tucked behind her bent knees, she almost thinks she can feel the warmth coming off of him. ]
no subject
she hadn't expected that. stars, she's not even entirely sure how to interpret that, or what it means, or— but those questions don't plague her just now. it's … reassuring. whatever it is. in part because she can feel him so clearly, and there's no hint of ulterior motive there. some confusion, perhaps, but …
he'd done it for her. plain and simple.
any question she asks will be too much, as it had been the night of the ambush. she understands now. he, like her, has no measure for this. no tools to equip them to process it or recognize it or even name it. for that reason, she is struck by a sudden speechlessness. anything she can think of to say is the wrong thing.
instead of risking destroying another relationship tonight, she slowly scoots off the edge of the bed. she's shaky still, simultaneously frayed and exhausted and yet still adrenaline high from all of this, but she makes her way over and sits beside him against the opposite wall. she doesn't touch him, though she ostensibly seeks that same sort of closeness as comfort.
she's tired of being alone. at least like this, she feels as though they are in one another's company, and not intruders on some private space. and when she folds her arms over her obi, tucked behind her bent knees, she almost thinks she can feel the warmth coming off of him. ]