#oc tip aavro

[naberiie]

“when was the last time you slept?” - ama + azlin

“Where does this one go?”

“Those plates go up on that shelf–can you reach it?” Ama asks, and is immediately rewarded with a look of proud disdain from the young, brightly-colored Nautolan helping her clean up for the day. She laughs a little, holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, beta, I know you can manage.”

Tip flexes their hands for a moment and then stops. Their huge eyes flick towards the entrance of the Rose Lantern, which Ama locked in front of them so they could be assured that she’d done it. And then they clamber on top of the stepstool and put the clean plates away, without using the Force. Ama bites her lip but continues to wash the dishes, both of them purposefully ignoring the way the plate wobbled, ignoring the way both of their nerves twisted in fear at their instinctual reaching out through the Force. It’s safer, now, if they don’t use it. But purposeful disuse after a lifetime of training to manipulate it? It must feel like a tourniquet in their mind, she thinks. A slow strangulation, violent retraining, of one of their most natural instincts. But they don’t complain. Tip gets back down and picks up the drying cloth again, and neither of them speak. She knows they can sense her fear, and she knows how exhausted they are.

It’s hard to find something to talk about, now, anyways. Words seem to always fall short, nowadays.

So they focus on cleaning the restaurant. Purposeful, engrossing work that they could do together. Three days since Tip stumbled in through the door, three days since Ama had mentally moved one name from the long list of dead, missing, gone into the list labelled alive. It is much shorter than the first. Three days of the pair of them focusing on the small things, on the things they can change, the things they still have power over.

The bell above the front door chimes. 

Her blood runs cold. Tip, too, is frozen, and for a moment all they can hear are soft steps, quiet breathing, the door swinging shut. Her family is all upstairs; her roommates are all accounted for. 

Danger.

“Stay here,” Ama hisses, drying her hands, eyes fixed on the kitchen door.

“But-”

“If it’s stormtroopers,” she goes on, quietly, “your pack is by the back door.”

“Ama-”

“Stay hidden, I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

They might have sighed in exasperation but she’s already moving through the kitchen into the restaurant proper, putting on her best imitation of her mother: confident and warm yet with absolutely no room for arguments. “Sorry, we’re closed–the door was locked for a reason, and-”

She stops, not quite trusting what she’s seeing. She knows those eyes, huge and strangely colored and so haunted, now.

She takes a step forward, and when the apparition doesn’t vanish, Ama moves one more name from the long list of the dead to living.

“Azlin?”

“Hi, Ama,” comes the answering whisper, exhaustion flaking away the strength of the Shadow’s voice like embers. “Sorry about the lock, it’s just-”

Ama doesn’t really remember crossing the room but she doesn’t believe Azlin’s actually here, actually alive, until she’s thrown her arms around the Shadow, buried her face in the thick hood of Azlin’s huge cloak. And she’s certainly not prepared when Azlin starts to tremble, her arms tight around Ama’s waist.

When Azlin chokes back a sob, the reality of the past two horrible weeks hits Ama all over again. Ama just sinks to the floor, tugging the Shadow down with her, and Azlin follows without a fight, curling into Ama’s arms like a lost child. Her quiet sobs echo in the empty restaurant, and when Ama glances back towards the kitchen she sees Tip peering around the corner. For just a moment she can almost pretend everything will turn out okay. She asks Tip with a sign to bring something to drink and they duck back into the kitchen. She’ll wait to relock the door until they’re back in the room, so that they can see her do it. So they can both see her do it. Small reassurances.

Azlin finally uncurls herself from Ama’s lap and she looks so exhausted that Ama doesn’t know what to say. So she just sits and holds Azlin’s hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She’s relieved to see Azlin alive, but her relief pales in comparison to the terror of what Azlin’s life has now become. She remains quiet.

When Tip comes back out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with three glasses and a pot of hot tea, Azlin starts in shock, staring at them. Ama goes to the door and locks it again, the click providing some small sense of security for them all. Tip pulls a cushion next to Azlin and–taking care to make sure their poisonous skin doesn’t come into contact with hers–rests their head against her shoulder. They close their eyes and Ama wonders if the world feels empty to them, if it’s too quiet for them.

She pours the water while the former Jedi catch their breaths. When Azlin looks up and accepts the mug of tea, she looks like she just needs the warmth of it and cups it close to her chest. The door is locked, the lights are all turned out, and their little neighborhood is quiet. For now, it’s safe. “Azlin,” she begins softly, and then wonders how she could possibly voice all of her fears, her worries, her concerns. How to ask about the last two weeks of fear? They’re all so close to breaking.

Azlin holds her gaze, the skin under her eyes bruised, Tip still curled up against her.

Ama lets out a quiet sigh and, after a moment, knows what to say. She asks the questions that she knows will convey everything. “Have you eaten? When was the last time you slept?”

Azlin shrugs, unsure of how to answer, and Ama nods, rising to her feet. She doesn’t know how to set the world right again, she doesn’t know how to make it stop hurting. But she knows how to do this. “We’ll eat, and then we’ll talk. And then you’ll sleep here, alright? For as long as you need.”

Azlin nods. It can’t be forever; they all know that. But at the very least, it’s something.

At the very least, they have each other.

[evaceratops-art]

this wasn’t intended as bday art and i wasn’t originally gonna post it but it does happen to be @naberiie’s birthday today so happy birthday em!! i love u very much

[evaceratops-art]

happy birthday to @micyclethearcangle,, here is the Baby as promised!