#the grey company has my heart mind body and soul i was so distressed after Túr Morva

[masterelrond]

Memories of travelling south with the Grey Company, Dunland, and Isengard 

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader 

     masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

---------------------

“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried.  The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

------------------------

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.  

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair.  He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.  

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um,  my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him. 

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know. 

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly. 

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it. 

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended. 

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.  

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant. 

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

------------------------

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.  

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.  

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you? 

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”  

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”  

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

------------------------

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.  

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it. 

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

---------------------

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

---------------------

a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes. 

---------------------

Taglist: @wandsmith​ 💖

[whereflowersbloom]

Morning after

The smell of freshly baked croissants and coffee woke her up. Raven hardly ever felt so rested, even after spending an hour meditating before going to sleep, opening her eyes and getting accustomed to the morning light of the sun that illuminated her room through the windows. She turned on her back and nestled in this new, previously unknown feeling. She was strangely calm as if everything was in the right place, and every possible problem remained in the past.

Maybe that’s what genuine serenity feels like, she thought to herself.

But how did she end up in this situation? They became friends. Best friends, even. They talked about everything including their most intimate thoughts. She told herself it was enough or deceived herself into believing so. There was no line for them to cross but a secret and deep part of her soul definitely understood and sought the need to feel wanted and loved and fulfilled. Not like she hadn’t thought of Damian that way before. There was such a terrible tension between them sometimes when they were both sitting on her the sofa watching old classic films or reading books they both enjoyed. She craved the heat of Damian’s embrace. She remembered how it felt to have him curled around her, how gently his thumb stroked her cheek, how his muscles flexed against her, and she wishes he would hold her again.

Damian was like a compass for Raven if she felt like she might lose her way, and that kind of thing never happened to her. Not often at least.

As usual Damian went jogging as it had become his habit thanks to Jon, who craved the sunlight as soon as he opened his eyes, persistently asking him to be his partner. A surprising string elbow in the ribs by Jon gave him the second push to voice his feelings for Raven. Later, he visited a local bakery that made exquisite chocolate croissants, as he memorized Raven’s favorites. Then he returned home with a sudden thought it was the high time to turn his quiet feelings for Raven into something serious. He wanted to fool himself at first, but as it turned out, he was too fucking smart to believe a single word of the downright falsehood he made up in his mind in order to excuse himself from the imminent truth. He was in love with her.

She was about to get out of bed to stretch her muscles when Damian walked into the room carrying a tray with breakfast: hot coffee, steaming Earl Grey, croissants and juicy autumnal fruit. She wanted to approach him, wrap her arms around him and kiss him on the neck, the sensitive spot she discovered last night, but they were not yet at that stage of the relationship. As the matter of fact, she did not know exactly who they were to each other now. Maybe nothing had changed. After all, it had been just a few kisses last night, letting go, a carpet diem kind of moment. Maybe Damian didn’t want things to change between them.

"Good morning.” Damian muttered, sending her one of his radiant, sincere smiles that made her legs weak. "Did you sleep well?"

“Yes. Better than most days. I didn’t know if you would come back...” She kept her own voice soft, matching his tone, afraid to burst the strange bubble they found themselves in. Controlling her anxiety was easier said than done.

“I simply needed time to clear my mind.” His expression was solemn. “We must discuss last night’s event.” He mumbled under his breath, voice deadly calm, a convincing facade, fighting to distract the both of them from his own wild whirlwind of emotions as he left the tray at the bedside table. No woman in his life had ever truly enchanted him in the way she did. He would not give her up.

Her lower lip trembled slightly. She repeated her mantra over ten times until she calmed her nerves. Damian was her closest friend, and she cared about not ruining the special bond between them. They said it was easier to move on as long as you were merely lovers, but what when you are so much more. She felt like a teenager who was falling in love for the first time. Not that she was that much older at the age of 19. She had experience in meaningless romances, short-lived, Wally, Garfield, but she knew nothing about true love. Their bond was beyond comprehensible lines of poetry. More than it being undefinable, it was the freeness to be defined, the way as open interpretations take you.

“We don’t have to to this now. In fact, nothing has to change.” She spoke tentatively, unsure whether she’s more concerned how this would shape their friendship or embarrassed she let herself cross a line. Slowly passing around the room folding her arms across her chest.

The distress was heavy in her chest, stirred with a fog of uncertainty.

At this, Damian’s eyes sparkled with determination and objection regarding her statement. Before she registered what he was doing, he grabbed her hand. “I do not want to leave things exactly as they used to be. Not before last night.” He held her gaze and rubbed his thumb over the backside of her hand, reveling in the softness of her skin.

There’s a fluttering in her stomach, and she’s taken aback at the intensity of it. Butterflied filled with hope and wish. There was hope of light after all darks, hope of happiness after grief, hope of a new colorful sunrise, a chapter to be rewritten.

“It was just a kiss..” In a trice, breaking off the contact. She lied and immediately regretted it. Damian stood next to her with a disbelieving expression on his face. There was a hint of indignation but it vanished quickly.

“You and I both know it meant more than a kiss. I do not need the gift of empathy to see it.” Damian stated sharply, his features hardened at his resolution. He was tired of constantly feeling this weight on his shoulders. What was the point of deceiving themselves any longer? If he didn’t know better, he would say she was avoiding him like a plague.

Letting out a breath she had been holding in since Damian entered her bedroom, Raven felt a weight being lifted off her chest. “Damian...I” She started, but never managed to finish interrupted by an unexpected question.

"Do you have any plans for today?" He left the question hanging in the air.

With brows furrowed in confusion she found herself unable to command her mouth to utter anything. Her heart thudded out of her chest. The normally unflappable last daughter of Azarath knocked for a loop by the close proximity of her stunning teammate.

Raven parted her lips and closed them again.

“It seems we are free to do as we please today. Clear schedule. No training or missions. He shrugged casually, willing his breath to remain steady, years of boiling emotions teetering over the edge of his elegant, suave composure

Raven blinked. Amethysts widening.

“I thought we could go somewhere. You and I” Damian licked his lips, swallowing the nerves in his chest as her eyes widen a fraction at his proposal. "There's a new Parisian café in the city I think you might like.”

Her lips curved up into a sweet smile, growing wider and more radiant as she thought of sitting in Parisian cafe with Damian, enjoying a minute of bliss to be in the other’s company.

“Are you asking me on a date, Damian Wayne?” She blurted with a momentary astonished look, even as she realized the implication of his words. Was this truly happening? She asked herself mentally.

“I’m courting you properly, Raven. So yes, I’m asking you out.” His shoulders ease from their tensed position, subconsciously hunched in nerves to what she’d respond.

It was surreal, talking about what a few minutes ago had been unbearable chains, restrained by her own fears and inner demons. Ethereal strands of thread that could be snapped by a mere jerk of fingers. He wanted more. He wanted her.

“I don’t know, Damian.” She bit her lip still indecisive, gaze away from his face. Once again mind invaded by intrusive negative thoughts. What if it didn’t work? What if she lost control? The numerous what if’s haunted her like never ending nightmares.

Taking a step closer, something in his emerald sparked with an idea and firmness of not quitting. “Any chance I can persuade you to change your mind then?” He crooned in her ear, nipping at it just slightly, taking her breath away. She wondered how long she could resist his gravitational pull for so long.

Raven hesitated for a good few seconds before finally resigning herself to the fact that whatever she did. She couldn’t fight this anymore. She loved him. “I can think of a few ways.” She was surprised at her own boldness, snaking slender arms around his torso. He pressed his built body against hers closer, placing tender, teasing kisses along her neck. Whilst she was glad that he was enjoying himself, she was going to completely lose it if she remained flush against him for much longer. Her entire core heated with want for him. He smirked at the effect he had on her with his natural charm. This confident, cocky air. This was so him and content and not bothering to mask it. No filters.

“Is that a yes?” He whispered and there was no missing the boyish grin spread over his tanned cheeks. Hooking a finger under her chin and brought her face level with his own.

“I suppose you earned a date, Mr. Wayne.” She laughed feverishly. Gently, stroking his palm with her thumb. Enjoying the calloused yet silky skin of an accomplished swordsman and fighter.

An audible sigh left Damian’s mouth as his muscles relaxed with her nestled in his arms. She could sense his relief. Yes, perhaps a change could be good, opening herself to feel again. A new chapter of light and joy.

Notes: I know I have disappeared and haven’t updated in forever but I’m still sick and weak. Also working on the fanzine project. I should be done in a week though. But meanwhile have this short damirae. Not my best but I hope you enjoy it 💖💖💜💜

@deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @alerialblu @chromium7sky @kallura-juniblade @cayeeast

I miss you all and youre all welcome to message me. I feel a bit disconnected from the world.

Also I’d like to use to wish @shewhowillnotbenamed1 a happy birthday!! Thank you for blessing us with your beautiful wiring and your friendship 😊😊🥰💜💖

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH8

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 2,008

- Author Note: Finally update on time! i appreciate your feedback and comment, just drop in my ASK BOX :)

Previous | Next

Chapter 8

“Why are you in rush?” the older guy blinks confusedly at the sight before him. Seul was struggling with her aprons as a frustrated sigh escaped her mouth “I have another work to catch on” untangling the dangling knots around her, Wongeun shook his head in amusement.

He took a few steps closer to Seul, grabbing her shoulders while leaning down to her level “Let me help you with that” Seul froze at the close proximity. A wisp of Wongeun scent reminded her of the supposed-to-be-forgotten-Min-Yoongi, and it was horrible to have him in her mind again.

“Don’t overwork yourself Seul-ah. You are still young” his fingers were fidgeting with the knots around her waist. He carefully untangled it as he smiles bashfully. God, Seul really hated this kind of gesture by a guy like Wongeun. It is troublesome for her heart.

Seul felt a heavy lump on her throat, as she forced out the words coming out from her mouth without sounding like she’s screeching. “Thank you oppa for your concern but I will be fine. I am doing this for my mother after all” she was grateful of the attention that he showed her. Sometimes her colleagues mistaken his kind gesture as a flirt when she tried to push that thoughts far away from her. Just because it was ethically wrong to have a feeling for her employer.

He removed the pink apron gracefully and took few steps back with a soft smile that could melt many hearts “I know you are a good daughter but don’t forget people around you. They care for you. I am sure your mother doesn’t want to see you like this either” Wongeun tucked strand of hair behind her ears.

“Alright alright, what is with this super serious talk. That doesn’t fit you” she chortled, jabbing his arm playfully.

“I am being serious. Okay, I am still worried that your workplace has no female but bunch of hormonal teenagers” his brow flinched together with a hint of concern.

Seul snorted “They are young adults. It is totally different from teenagers. Man, this is so unnecessary. I got to go, I don’t want to bump into any of those babytans” she slipped her phone inside her sling bag, taking all her stuffs in the locker.

“You even have a nickname for them” he pointed out shooting a sly smile.

“WHAT?!” Seul flustered causing her cheeks to reddened turning her into a ripe tomato. She just disliked the mention of their names being associated with her, god knows how she hated herself for letting this thing affect her brain.

“See you tomorrow” she scurried off putting a stop to Wongeun teasing. What a trickster.

 ------------------

Jimin rolled off from his bed and went straight to the bathroom. He was taking a short nap and like a flash all the members disappeared in thin air. Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon went to the company few hours ago like they usually did whilst Jimin chose to stay at home since he already spent 18 hours in the studio yesterday.

Taehyung was not at home either since afternoon, as soon as their Busan’s schedule got cancelled earlier this morning, he went to watch his friend’s musical show. He offered to take Jimin along, but he was dead tired to even get off from his comfortable bed. Taking a nap supposed to help rejuvenating his body and mind a little until he noticed no one was at home but him.

He took a quick shower before coming out shirtless feeling refresh and alive. Not long after, his ears caught the sound of the door being opened, it made him skipped a little in his stance “They are here already? THAT WAS FAST!” he grabbed random shirts from his closet.

“ugh they wont leave me alone right?” Jimin turned into a real klutz as he grabbed his phone and wallet before making his way outside his room. “You said eight minutes” said Jimin who had been busy forcing himself into the grey shirt.

Seul’s eyes widened at the sight in front of her. It made her mind fuzzy, blood rushing in her system and to her astonishment the figure in front of her got Seul losing her ability to talk. To be frank, her knees weakened, and she was screaming mentality.

Jimin noticed the heavy atmosphere making him uneasy for no reason and with that he quickly slipped the shirt over his head. “OH SHIT” his eyes shot opened. He gasped in sheer horror scanning Seul from head to toes.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU” he breathed deeply, taking a step back. Seul could see him blushing deeply mainly due to the way him welcoming her with his toned body. Why must she have a weird encounter with this babytan? Crazy much.

Seul averted her eyes from meeting his shy gaze and cleared her throat in process “Why no one inform me that you will be around at this time?” she mumbled in frustration. This should not be happening since her last encounter with Yoongi was not that good either.

“ARE YOU A…SASAENG PERHAPS?” Jimin clutches onto his phone tight, staring at her way with a bewildered look. His mind was plotting something nasty and cruel, yet he didn’t know if he could execute it. Before things turned bad, he must save himself first and contacted anyone like Kim Seokjin because after all he was on his way there.  

“Were you the girl that Yoongi hyung mentioned before?”

“The one who pretended to be the caretaker ahjumma? When you are not?”

“OH MY GOD. YOU ARE REAL! HYUNG WAS NOT LYING AFTER ALL” his voice croaked at the end indicating his fear and nervousness. The words coming out from his mouth was distorted but sounded cute to Seul. Even though it was not the time to mentally squeal over his cuteness, Jimin is undeniably cute indeed.

“Don’t bore me with your false assumptions. That guy has been getting it all wrong” Seul rummaged through her bag finding her mother’s staff id as a proof so it could shut this tiny guy instantly. However, as a self-defence Jimin took few steps back afraid Seul pulled out guns or blades from her bags.

Rolling her eyes, Seul flashed the card “There you go.. it is my mother’s staff id. Can you trust me now?” she pressed.

He glanced at the staff id in Seul’s hand “Are you sure that is your mother?”

“Duh, yes? People said I take after her. Can’t you see the obvious?” Seul shot him a disapproval look. Maybe, Jimin is cute but he aint anymore when he inquired her like a legit policeman.

Jimin then took the chance to scrutinize Seul’s face start from her eyebrows along her crescent moon eyes that practically shoots dagger at his way making him flustered immediately. Coughing away to ease the awkwardness, Jimin eyes land on his pink lips that purses up showing off her annoyance.

“Are you seriously creeping on me right now?” her voice brought him out from his trance when the reality finally hits him hard. Shit, what am I doing. Jimin bit his lower lips surpassing the urge to cuss out loud.

Seul grew quiet for few seconds gathering the sense of humanity in her before beating the crap out of him “I am here to work, and I don’t have time to explain to someone who refuse to believe what I am saying at first place. I am sure that hyung of yours have already told you what I said to him weeks ago. So, can you just digest it and embrace the reality that I am here to work not to stare at you” distressed Jimin had no idea how to react to this. Should he just run off and find help or should he just let her do the works and wait until Jin and Jungkook came to the rescue?

“I am beginning to be vexed with you, gosh” she stared boringly at his way.

He pressed his lips together trying to steady his breathing “That doesn’t prove anything… mmm…i.. think you are dangerous. I will just…” Jimin strutted to his room and locked the door behind him. Seul grunted under her breath, it was an unexpected meeting again. If this kept going, she would end up embarrassing herself in front of the whole population of babytans.

She felt a small smile crept up at the corner of her lips ‘Except for him. He doesn’t look that baby after all’ she blushed madly upon the image of shirtless Jimin creeping in. Considering Jimin is around, Seul decided to settle things quick and leave as soon as possible. She didn’t know who else would come in few minutes, every second is precious. On top of all, she didn’t want to meet Min Yoongi again. Worst case of scenario.

 --------------

Pacing back and forth anxiously was Park Jimin. He blamed himself for turning himself into a real fool. What was he thinking? Showing off his skin in front of stranger who could possibly hurt him or even sexually harassed him? Was there any case whereby man got raped by a woman? Negativity only to bring unnecessary panic.

Think rational.

Calm down.

Inhaling a deep breath, Jimin took his phone and his fingers clumsily typed a quick message to Jin asking his whereabouts. He clearly said it was only eight minutes, but this took forever.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Jimin finally felt less helpless at the moment. He did not even dare to go beyond the door. No one knew what she could possibly plan in that brain of hers. Another thing was that she looked pretty decent to be referred as a murderer or kidnapper however anything could happen in one night.

He sunk on his bed, squeezing his eyes together ‘Why is she here. Is she real’ he raked fingers in his damp hair angrily.

--------------

Drumming his fingers against the glass table, Yoongi concentrated on mixing the tunes that came into his mind earlier with the new verse that Hoseok suggested. He had been busy producing new songs for their upcoming comeback and this was just beginning. Out of all time that he had in this world, he loved those days when he could spend all day in his studio making music, getting new inspirations and let the idea flow beautifully.

Staring blankly at the cold ceiling, his mind drifted off to the kisses that he had with Seul few weeks ago. His brows clenched together, protesting the dull ache that was beginning to grow in his temple “Screw that woman” he scowled.

The beep coming from his phone diverted his attention from thinking of Seul again, thankfully. A message from Jimin was unusual unless it was really important.

He arose from his seat, shutting down all the equipment. His determination to catch Seul again today doubled “I will make sure to catch you this time” he grinded his teeth together. As he was about to exit his room, he bumped into clueless Hoseok right in front of his studio “Are you heading back already?” the younger guy blinked at his hyung unusual behaviour.

Min PD won’t be back home not until he was summoned by Jin. When this happened, it simply means Jin was annoyed of Yoongi overwork himself to the extent of neglecting his meals and rest.

“I will be back later.. I have something important to do” said Yoongi flatly avoiding Hoseok judgemental round eyes.

“And? Why you look irritated? Did something bothering you” Hoseok used his luck to pry answers from him.

“Later. Tell Namjoon, the song demo is on his desk” giving Hoseok a light pat on the back, he brushed pass him without looking back. This was it, he had no time to waste or else he would be losing her again. It was already hard to predict her shift every day, he was not planning to waste the chances.

Hoseok watched his small figure disappeared “Is hyung dating someone? Not that I remember”

  This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved.

[alyssa-ward]

Possibilities and New Allies

[ Follows Warplans ]

[ Riley’s perspective is about Unexpected Company ]

“We’re goin’ t’die like this.  You and me.  Sittin’ stuck in a dagger, and that’s just goin’ t’be it.  Maybe I’ll die alone, and you’ll survive, and someone else can figure out ‘ow t’put you back together and fix Kat.  Maybe that.”  Alyssa leans back on the stump, back and head against the fur of the perpetually sleeping wolf, staring up at the empty night sky of her woods.  Her mental space within the confines of the weapon she exists in.

It feels like it’s been forever since something changed.  So when it does, it snaps her attention immediately.  Suddenly like a light in the dark, the trees part, a new path created in her grove, a new soul clearing she’s never seen before, and she bounces to her feet, abandoning the wolf to move towards it.

Her mental voice broadcasts out to whoever just touched the hilt of the Dagger, the teal colouration in the blade and pommel glowing brightly a moment.  “Well you’re not Kat.  Who the hell are you?”  Her voice carries not nearly as much of her thick accent over mental link, though the Gilnean lilt is still there.

A wash of surprise comes back over the link, clearly whoever holds the weapon is startled. "Who's there?!"  The voice is female, not one the Warlock recognizes.

"Alyssa. Answer the question. My patience is...not great right now." Her reply comes firmly, if perhaps with a touch of distraction as Alyssa steps through the gap into the trees to examine this soul that has newly exposed itself to her.  Nearly like a sea urchin, with a strong solid core of grey, cracks in its surface that show through something more pure and light within.  The exterior though is surrounded by harsh long thin black needles that one would surely skewer themselves on making any attempt to reach for what is true to the owner.

"Sorry, Alyssa, but I'm not exactly keen on following the orders of strangers," desperation and paranoia are the emotions Aly pulls from the woman’s emotional state, linked as it is to the Dagger she now holds, "especially those I cannot see. I'll only offer this one chance to show yourself, my patience is long-expired."  It’s all the clearer though that some things will have to be explained.  Frustrating.

"I can make you," Alyssa’s voice comes in almost a mutter of impatience.  She could, she’s sure of that.  The soul is right there, and spines or not she could manipulate and force.  There’s an overwhelming temptation to do just that.  No games, no conversation, no argument.  Just co-opt this person's existence and use them as a tool to her ends.  "If I can see you, then you are already holding me." Someone has slowly embraced her current existence, time to play nice for now. "You have the dagger, yes?"

"The fuck are you going on about?" Confusion and anger, Alyssa’s cryptic words only seem to upset the new wielder. "If you can see me, you already know I've got a blade. You should also know that I'm quite skilled at wielding it,” a brief pause in words and then, “show yourself!”

A wave of emotional exasperation comes across the link that forms between the Dagger and the person holding it, this time from Alyssa as she allows her feelings to wash over the link, with enough force to buffet the wielder.  "I am the dagger."

It clearly has some of the desired effect, the mix of dazed confusion echoing back at Alyssa makes the Warlock smirk to herself as she slowly circles the prickly soul.  "The hell does that mean, you are the dagger? What kind of game are you playing at?"

The second wave of exasperation Alyssa sends is less forceful, but the lack of patience and frustration in the weapon is still a tangible sensation. "Tell you what, I'll tell you the whole story if you tell me your name, where we are, and where the hell Kat is."

"It's finally happened. I've lost my damn mind." For a moment it feels like the person wholding the dagger has started to lose it.  Something akin to laughter coming over the link.  Alyssa wonders for a moment if she’s pushing too far.  Debates attempting to calm or stabilize the woman’s state with magic.  "Carrying on a conversation with an inanimate object like some kind of fucking lunatic."  More laughter.  "Alright, I'll play along. I'm Riley - friend of Kat's. Currently sitting in her living room, by my damn self, because she's nowhere to be found." A pause. "Well, she's somewhere. Somewhere that's not here."

A name is a start, and Alyssa pauses her investigation of the soul to dig through her memories.  Riley.  Riley.  It turns up nothing.  Friend of Kat’s indeed, for a moment she almost feels anger flaring up at her partner for her insistence on keeping all of her life so neatly separated.  She’d be more exasperated by the woman’s worries of her lost mind, but any sass or irritation turns into a wave of confusion and and the unmistakable sensation of a sinking heart. "How are we in her living room?  Is this where you found me?  We were in Uldum...that doesn't make sense." Alyssa's tone turns slowly toward panic as she responds. She did agree to answers though, "ah, Alyssa, girlfriend of Kat, not that I expect her to have mentioned me to friends. I...died," that's putting it lightly, "and Kat stopped my soul from leaving and put it in this dagger. You're not losing your mind."

"Stop..." the soul before Alyssa, Riley’s soul, bristles, spines drawing in on the core, twisting and bending in distress.  It’s clear Alyssa’s tumultuous emotions crashed hard in a wave with Riley’s, overloading her. "Whatever you did just now... don't fucking do it again.  We're in her living room because this is where I thought she'd be. Now I've got a lot more questions than answers, a missing friend, and a dagger with the soul of Kat's girlfriend trapped inside? Her DEAD girlfriend. Sure. I'm not losing my mind." A moment where Riley seems to be re-focusing herself "I'm guessing you're the redhead?"

"Didn't do anything...guess you're not used to the emotions. That tracks." Alyssa wraps arms about herself, trying to steady her emotions and keep some measure of calm. She steps out of the clearing containing Riley’s soul.  Best not to look at it right now, too many temptations, and so she crosses the grove to look down on the sleeping white wolf in her mental space again. "Yeah...used to be." Hard to keep everything bottled up to save Riley from the backlash, some sorrow leaks through in those words.  She finds herself looking down at herself, trying to keep a firm picture of ‘Alyssa’.  Hard to do when you don’t even have a real body anymore.  Redhead...she’d been so proud of her hair.  "So..." she searches for the words to broach what she wants to say. "You can fight. You're Kat's friend. We have to find her, we're agreed on that?"  Best to focus on moving ahead.

"Just prefer not feeling them amplified, if it's all the same to you. I've got enough of my own shit bouncing around in my head - things I'd rather keep buried - and I don't need you digging around in places you shouldn't." Sorry of her own, Alyssa can practically feel Riley’s tears. "I can fight, yes. Kat is my friend, and I intend to find her. Not sure what use I have for bringing along a chatty knife, though.  After all, she must have left you here for a reason, yeah? Or sent you here. Whatever. It hardly makes a difference." Skeptical. Calculating. Confused. Overall, a lack of trust.  The words are also a needle of their own, digging into Alyssa’s insecurities.  Why did Kat throw her away.  How did she end up here.  It doesn’t matter, only thing she can do now is act, as best she can.

"It's not...I'm not in your head, not like that at..." Another brief sound of frustration, though this one at least backlashes with far less impact as the Warlock checks herself. "Okay, Riley? Riley. I'm sorry, I've been stuck in here I don't know how long. I've had nothing to do but worry about the last moments I had with Kat. I'm scared, and I'm angry, and I'm stressed, and I'm taking it out on you yeah? And you don't deserve that." A wave of calm comes from the weapon as Alyssa puts into practice stilling her chaotic mind. "I'll tell you everything I know, I can help you find her...please don't leave me behind. I need her to be okay, I need to help."  Every effort made to hide her terror.  The idea of being left behind again, of returning to the endless silence with nothing but herself and no concept of time and space.  She can’t do it.  She needs this woman, whoever she is.

"Alright." Frustration and uncertainty were still very much present, and while the short response was clearly meant as a means to temporarily silence the voice in the dagger, it lacked the harsh edges of her previous words. Perhaps a flicker of recognition and understanding at the mention of being trapped for an unknown length of time. Sympathy. "Alright. Fine." Another pause for a deep, slow breath. "Tell me what you know, and we'll go from there. Suppose the worst-case scenario is walking around with an extra weapon - sure, that'll mean I've actually lost it, but that was bound to happen sooner or later.  You said you'd been in Uldum - I found some notes that line up with that. Think she's still there?"

Some level of reason between them. This can be worked with.  Alyssa clamps down on her wave of relief.  Best not to show the woman just how close to losing it herself she is. "Maybe. I don't know how long it's been." A deep breath, concern in the link. Alyssa knows that this woman, if she cares for Kat, won't like what's left to tell. "She fell to N'zoth's influence. It corrupted her completely and took her. By the end she was almost nothing but madness." A small pause to let that process before she continues with the 'good news'. "I don't know how but she left me something. I have, I think a piece of all that was left of the good in her soul. The last thing she said to me was 'find me'. Uldum is the best bet I have."

Alyssa's words prompted a powerful wave of heartache that Riley was powerless to contain, and she fell silent for an almost uncomfortable length of time while the link exploded with sorrow and regret. "Uldum it is, then." That Riley is crying again is nearly bottled up by the stoicism she tries to project, but it’s still hard to miss.  "Fucking hate sand..." she muttered.

"I know how you feel," says quietly in Riley's mind. "But I can't believe this is the end. We need to strengthen this piece of her I have, and then put it back."

"How do we go about doing that?"  For a moment there’s less emotional back and forth, focusing on words and actions.  It doesn’t last.

"I...don't exactly know," Alyssa's response comes, a little less assured. "I would know more if I knew exactly what it is. I think it's a piece of her soul." A glance at the chalk board that materializes in her liminal space, visible only to her. "I need to feed, if not Kat, then myself, but I think I can strengthen it with souls." A pause. "How are your morals."

"Excuse me. What?" Riley paused, blinking. "Feed?"  Alyssa winces a bit.  Being called out on her word choice like that is a firm reminder of just how quickly her humanity is slipping away.  It was a silly thing to say, edgy.  Feed.  "Dammit, Kat," she muttered. "My morals are questionable, at best, but taking someone's soul because you're feeling peckish is kind of a big ask, don't you think?" The question was rhetorical, of course.  "What, um. Flavor? Do you find most palatable? I guess we can start there..."

"Yeah okay that wasn't the best way to put it. I'm figuring this all out as we go. I don't exactly have a great deal of experience being stuck in a dagger either...Kat and I were figuring it out as we went along." At least it seems Riley is going to be more reasonable about this than Aly expected. "For me, I don't know if it needs to be souls. Kat poured...liquid azerite? Some sort of concoction she'd made. That serves enough to keep me going. For Kat though, I need something strong and pure. This part of her is weak, I think if we tried to put it back in as it is, the madness and darkness would just crush it again."  The Azerite is pure guess.  But that bit poured across the blade in Uldum certainly served to revitalize her when she needed it.

Besides.  That word.  Feed.  It was a bit of a wakeup, a reminder that Alyssa needs to try to retain her humanity, and maybe just accepting the cost of lives to keep her fueled isn’t the best way to hold onto the road back.

Riley was silent for a moment, filtering through the offered information piece by piece. "Well, the first bit's easy.  Not sure how much you need, or how often you need it, but she has a small stash of this liquid Azerite in her office." Another quiet moment passed before she spoke again. "That just leaves the other matter to discuss."

"That's a relief. I don't think it takes much." The other matter though. A bit of anxiety in the link as Alyssa mulls over it. "It's why I asked about your morals. I'm willing to sacrifice a whole lot to save her. Tell me where your line is, and..." she stops herself from saying 'we won't go over it'.  It’s a tempting promise to get what she wants but she knows it’d be a lie, and more than anything, she needs this Riley to trust her.

"Just tell me what I need to do," she replied, a somber sincerity emanating from her end, "and I'll do it."

"Then...we need a soul. Any soul will do, if you've got any enemies you've been waiting to remove, now's not a bad time. So long as there is some good in them, it should be enough to experiment with to find out if this will even work."  Almost as an afterthought, she adds, "Oh, if you have contacts in Alliance Military or medical services, any information about the status of those who've fallen to N'zoth, if any have been recovered, that sort of thing would be good to know."  Much though her focus is on trying to strengthen the wolf...if indeed it even is what she thinks it is, it’s worth looking at other avenues.

"Yeah, I know a few people who wouldn't be missed - not by anyone that matters, anyway." Her tone was somber, as was the emotion which accompanied it; she wasn't pleased or excited about the prospect, but there was a palpable level of determination to see it through regardless. "I'll see what information I can track down on short notice. There's gotta be at least one of my contacts on leave in the city who can offer something useful. Or, at the very least, point us in the direction of someone who can."

"Thanks," Alyssa's response comes, a bit more sobered too in all of this. "I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Kat seems to keep everyone who matters to her as separated as possible from each other, but...we'll figure this out." Seating herself on the edge of the stump with the wolf, running fingers through its fur. "So you know what you're getting into, I should let you know what having me with you entails that we've figured out so far. If the blade is physically on your person, I can hear you, and feel your emotions. You'll feel mine too. I can't see you or where you are, I can't hear people around you. I ah...also can see and have access to your soul, we're linked, but if you ever need a break, just...set the blade down and walk away from it." Best to just be honest about these things. "I don't sleep anymore, I'm always here. If you need anything, well...in so much as I can do as not much more than a voice in your head. I'm here. Oh...don't so much as even nick anyone you don't plan to kill, keep the dagger in a sheath the rest of the time. I don't have great control, fresh blood sets off some things."

"This would be a lot to process on a good day..." Riley murmurs in response.  "Luckily, I've been handling blades since I was a kid, so I doubt we'll have to worry about any such accidents. Still..." a pointed pause as she seems to take a moment of thought "think our first order of business will be to fit you-... it. You..?" The sigh is audible across the link, "I'll fashion a sheath that'll properly fit the blade when we get back to my shop, just to be safe. I imagine we've got more than a fair share of bullshit ahead of us without adding more into the mix."

"We'll, uh." Riley seems to be picking up on Alyssa's own worried state through the warm fog of alcohol.  It’s a filtered sort of thinking that Aly got pretty used to seeing with Kat. "We're gonna figure this out, like you said. We'll find her."  Riley’s words seem meant as a reassurance of sorts, to herself as much as the woman trapped in the weapon.  "We have to."

"Yes, we have to," Alyssa agrees. "I refuse to accept that she's gone for good, I'm not ready for that...thank you Riley." A brief pause and then, "I'm going to think a bit, start planning the spell work I'll use when you get the soul. I'm here, and I'm always listening, if you need me, just to talk, or whatever," one can almost hear the vague shrug, "I'm here."

"Yeah..." a long pause followed her response. "I've seen her in pretty rough shape more than once. She pulled through then, and this'll be no different." Try as she might, there was an unmistakable air of uncertainty in her tone - whether she was trying to convince herself or Alyssa was anyone's guess. "I'll, uh. I'll do my own share of thinking on the way back. Let you know what I come up with."

Then the clearing to Riley’s soul closes up, the unmistakable sign that contact with the Dagger has been broken.  Alyssa finds herself with more questions, more fears, more worries, but revitalized too.  Anything at all, no matter how bad, is better than the endless nothing.  “I ‘ope y’trust this Riley, ‘cause I’m goin’ t’ave to,” she speaks to the wolf, before conjuring her Girmoire to her hands.  

There’s no real need to have the book, what’s accurate of her contents is memorized, but it helps her think through it again as she pours over her new notes about what it might entail to rip the Light out of a soul and transplant it to a new home.

[ @blue-eyedraven​ ]

[ Mentions of @kat-hawke ]

[anonwriter27]

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This: Chapter Two

Up in the sky where the sun shone brightest, where the clouds were lined with gold, and the wind scarcely blew, was the central kingdom. It was usually a peaceful place, filled with sounds of laughter or merriment, today was an exception.

Throughout the kingdom, in the dead of night, the distinct sound of yelling could be heard in the sweet yet intimidating voice of Queen Sansa.

“I demand you go visit him!” She yelled for the tenth time that morning.

Even in a fit of rage she was still beautiful; her red hair was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed, her piercing blue eyes sparkling. Jon would have kissed her if he wasn’t so infuriated with her.

“It’s no use! He barely hears a word I say. He’s your brother, you go visit him!” Jon pleaded again, for the tenth time that morning.

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

All of a sudden her facial features, that had only a moment ago contorted in anger, became serene and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Because my love, I do not think the underworld is the safest place for our unborn child.” She spoke softly.

Jon’s body turned slack, as though his happiness had numbed him. They had been hoping for a child for years, they were gods for goodness sake, if mortals could do it why couldn’t they? He hadn’t dared hope that he could have both Sansa and a child, it seemed to good to be true.

He walked over to her then and kissed her tenderly. She let out a sigh; she had been hiding this news for months, scared that she may jinx it if they celebrated to soon. But she could feel her child now, happy and healthy inside her.

“Thank you.” He said.

“There is no need to thank me, but I will require you to do as I ask for the next few months.” She smiled mischievously.

“And that would require me to go visit your miserable brother.” Jon sighed.

“Strange how he’s suddenly ‘my brother’ when you’re annoyed with him.” She said, raising her eyebrow knowingly.

“It’s because he acts more like your brother when I’m annoyed with him. Stubborn and grouchy…” he said.

He was about to receive a swat on the arm but he disappeared into thin air before she could.

“You’re lucky I love you.” She mumbled, and went back to her looking glass.

…………

Robb walked through the halls of his keep; he would have called it a leisurely stroll, but it was clearly pacing. It had been a week since he had come across that temptress, and he couldn’t decide what to do next. He had ascended to the upper world three times, and each time he came right back down to his kingdom having convinced himself it was a bad idea.

He was beginning to distress his loyal companion Grey Wind. He was a fantastic beast; a dark grey wolf, his body bigger than most men. He whimpered as Robb stormed past him, angry at himself for his cowardice.

“Not now Grey Wind.” He muttered, and the beast rested his head upon his paws once again, watching his master’s torment.

Robb stopped suddenly, “If you’re here to annoy me then I am not in the mood.” He turned to see his brother in law smirking at him.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Not now Jon.” Robb said and began to pace again.

“I wonder what has distressed the great king of the underworld so much. Famine? Apocalypse? Souls getting a bit rowdy?” Jon teased.

“I said not…”

“Or could it be the enchantress that stole his heart?”

Robb whipped his head around, “How did you….dammit Sansa!”

“You can’t keep anything from her.” Jon smiled.

“So your being here is her doing?” Robb asked.

“Partly, I’ve also become quite interested in this love story. It’s not your typical hero and damsel dynamic.” Jon speculated.

“I wouldn’t call it a love story.” Robb said shaking his head, dismissing any prospect of such a happy ending.

“No? Shame, she’s been looking for you every day this week.”

“She has?” Surely Jon was just teasing him, could he truly dare hope that she had thought about him as much as he had her?

“The bell chimes once, that’s when she goes out into the field, and every day for the past seven days she has sat at the entrance to the forest waiting for you. I’d hurry up and go see her if I were you, she won’t sit around and wait forever.”

“What good could come of it?”

“You could be happy.” Jon began but knew that he wasn’t going to convince his friend that way, “Sansa and I are expecting a child.”

Robb immediately went to hug his friend, he had know of there struggles and longing. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’m not saying that marriage and children necessarily make everything better, but companionship is the least you deserve Robb. This girl could be it.” Jon said encouragingly.

After Jon left Robb decided to go visit the upper world one last time; if she was there then he would allow himself to hope, if not then she would plague his mind for all eternity.

…………

She was taunting him, she must have been, surely she knew the effect she had on him. She lay upon a bed of grass, each blade seemingly caressing her as if they wanted to hold on to her precious form. Her clothes were damp, she had been swimming in the stream, her dress clung to her body revealing the swell of her breasts. A few droplets of water rested on her chest, glistening under the sun’s warm glow. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the sounds around her.

“If the forest is not safe, I’d wager the entrance to it is just as hazardous.” Robb said and smiled when he saw her jump up eagerly.

“You came back.” She said, a smile now threatening to show.

“I did say I would.”

“You said it a week ago.” She spoke quietly, and Robb chuckled at the way she pouted.

“Why do you want my company? Surely there are others who could occupy your time.” He asked.

“I’m not allowed to leave. My mother is quite protective, she only lets me leave the house when I take my stroll through the field. It can get quite lonely.”

“You’re a goddess, surely you can defy her?”

“She is my mother, I’d hate to disappoint her.” She said. She looked away and allowed silence to consume them, this was clearly something that played on the young woman’s mind.

“I use to fear disappointing my father.” He said, and her head shot up. “I spent many years doing what I thought would please him. After a while I realised that what would please him most was to see me happy, that’s what a parent should want for their child.”

He watched her face and saw her expression had turned serious; she was taking note of what he had told her.

“You’re right, thank you.” She said, and he smiled. She had been thinking such thoughts for a while, but having Robb confirm them put her mind at ease.

They spoke for hours, about nothing and everything all at once. He found out she was the goddess of spring; she brought forth life and beauty, his opposite in every way. This revelation clarified her situation to Robb. Myrcella was the daughter of Cersei, goddess of harvest. Although he had not spoken to her for years, Robb knew Cersei, and he wasn’t surprised to see her keep a tight leash on her beautiful daughter.

“I have been to the central kingdom once, but my mother decided it was too much excitement for a young woman.” She told him, “Do you visit there often?” She asked.

“Sometimes, not often though.”

“Aha!” She yelled triumphantly, and Robb smiled at her cunning, realising his mistake. “So you are a god!”

“You caught me.” He said, though he did not mind being caught, not by her.

For all he learnt about her, she learnt so very little about him.

“Can I ask you a question?” She said, pressing her back against a tree, the very same tree that Robb was resting against.

“Of course.”

“Why do you hide in the shadows?”

“It’s safer this way.” He said, though he cursed himself for giving such a cryptic answer.

“Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“Then come out and see me.” She said

“Then you’ll be afraid.” He said.

She seemed to contemplate this for a while. As Robb waited for a reaction he felt something move over his hand. He tried not to jump away when he realised it was her hand, her delicate fingers dancing along his knuckles.

“Let’s see.” She said, as her index fingers jumped from one of his fingers to the other, “One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers.

Then she began to sweep her fingertips across his knuckles, “Smooth skin, a little hard in places.”

Then her hand smoothed over his, stretching till her fingertips met his, “And no claws. You don’t seem a monster to me.”

How he loved her innocence, “Monsters take many forms.” He told her.

“How am I to know if I can’t see?” She asked, and she had a point.

The bells chimed twice, calling for her return, and she sighed sadly. “I have to go.” She said.

“I’ll come again soon.” He promised.

“How soon?” She asked suspiciously, causing him to chuckle.

“Sooner then the last time, I promise.”

“Good.” She said and squeezed his hand before she left.

He was left to watch her run through the field of lavender once more, but this time he felt content in knowing he would see her again.

[kalendraashtar]

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part III)

Part III – “You don’t know how lovely you are”

Twenty-four

The night was unusually dark, even for the end of September – the scarce light of public illumination swallowed by scraps of mist, like cold long fingers, stretching to capture an unwary victim. But the lack of visible stars caused me more dismay – the feeling of infinity I usually felt gazing above my head, of endless life beyond the flapping of butterflies’ wings of human existence, veiled beyond my reach. I felt small and locked outside of a mystery that made my life more meaningful.

I was walking fast across Princes Street, my hands buried on the pockets of my overcoat, thinking about the job interview I had endured that day – a promising position as a Math teacher for a local high school, very surprising considering my lack of experience and the fact that I was fresh out of college. The headmistress had seemed pleasant and competent, interested in knowing things about my personal life as well as my academic course – inevitably she had asked why I had took almost an entire year off school, four years ago. I had answered truthfully, reassuring her about my full recovery.

To my right I could see the Gardens and the outline of the Scottish National Gallery, one of my favourite places in Edinburgh to relax and spend some free time. Without a second thought, I decided to make a shortcut across the park, which would lead me straight to the neighbourhood where I had rented a small, yet cosy, apartment.

I saw her before I could even hear her – she was standing alone, talking on the phone, close to the museum entrance. She was wearing a long black dress with sleeves, which fitted perfectly her mesmerizing body, kissing her curves with fabric lips – her hair pinned up in a simple but elegant knot. She sounded distressed and – I thought – angry enough to make me want to run in the other direction. I recognized her instantly, even in such different circumstances than those of our last encounter – Claire.

I walked – levitated, really – towards her, without any notion of why I was doing it. Perhaps I meant to thank her for what she had done in the past. Maybe I was fascinated by the idea that, for once, I could be her saviour. She was clearly dressed for an elegant party – as I approached the building, I noticed several people in similar clothing, probably heading for some sort of gala inside.

I could hear her talking more clearly, her voice quick and deadly, like the stab of a dagger. “Fine!” She snapped, suddenly finishing her conversation. Claire looked at her phone with aversion, like she was considering the idea of throwing it to the nearby bushes.

I was near enough for her to notice my presence – without recognizing me, she quickly composed her expression and looked at her phone with pretended interest, fearing any unwanted advances from a strange man in the night.

“Claire?” I called her, as I reached the circle of light streamed through the museum’s doors. Her eyes jumped to mine and softened, as she promptly identified me.

“Jamie!” She greeted me, smiling – her lips were a soft pink with the touch of discrete lipstick. “How are you?”

“Good.” I grinned back – a gesture that almost entirely faded away as I noticed the ring on her finger. It was a sizable diamond, shining like a beacon made of crystal, outrageously dominant on her slender finger. An engagement ring.  “I couldna resist, coming to say hello.”

“It’s so good to see you!” Claire seemed honestly happy and warm – a million miles away from the cold glacier of moments before. “Are you coming to the charity gala too?”

“Ach, nae.” I gave her a lopsided smile and raised my brow. “Is that why ye’re here?”

“Yes.” She shrugged, sliding her phone inside her black satin clutch. “I was waiting for my fiancé but it seems he is…rather busy at the moment. He won’t be coming.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I said softly, trying to abstract myself of how magnificent she looked – dark as the night, but with millions of stars inside her. “I’m sure ye’ll have a lovely time, nonetheless.”

“I doubt that.” She replied, somewhat conspiratorially. “This night was organized by a friend of my uncle – he was kind enough to invite me in honour of his memory. Actually, I don’t know a living soul inside those doors.” Claire’s eyes darkened, sadness creeping in. “Maybe I’ll just go home and send him my apologies afterwards.”

“No!” I instantly rejected the idea. “Perhaps I could go with ye?” I suggested in a cool tone, praying that I wasn’t about to blush. I pointed to my black attire, matched with a grey tie. “I’m wearing a suit after all.”

“That you are.” She smiled, with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Do you really don’t mind?” Claire asked, nervously adjusting a stubborn curl that had fled her hairdo. “We could just pretend you’re my fiancé. No one really knows Frank, either way.”

“Of course, lass.” I mockingly offered her my arm for her to hold. “Shall we?”

We entered the party, quickly mingling with the crowd – an assorted array of wealthy men and women, with a taste for art and philanthropy - or for ostentation. Soon enough we had located the canapé and champagne flutes, launching ourselves in a conversation about the artistry on display – or lack of it.

“So, are you fully recovered?” Claire eventually asked me over the live jazz music, that a small band was playing in the corner, a saxophone crying about the loss of an imperfect lover.

“Aye.” I nodded, offering her one of my owlish winks. “I’m so verra thankful for what ye did for me – I…”

“Don’t be silly!” She dismissed emphatically, waving her hand. “I should be the one to thank you!” And seeing my puzzled look, she leaned over and talked closer to my ear. “After what you told me, I went ahead and applied to medical school. I work some shifts as a nurse to pay my bills, but I’m a proud med student!”

“That is wonderful!” I congratulated her, squeezing her hand – soft and capable, warm under my fingers as a pulsing heart. “I’m so glad!”

I convinced her to dance, afterwards. She conceded with an amused smile. We swayed together, amongst other couples – I wasn’t an eager dancer and had no memory of a time when the idea of dancing had seemed appealing to me. But with Claire everything was natural and effortless – every move and word had the magical quality of destiny, of a life finally fulfilled. I tried very hard to overlook the shackles symbolized by her ring, the deafening warning of a tragedy I was powerless to avoid. She had wilfully surrender to the dragon – I couldn’t be her saving knight.

“So what happened to yer fiancé?” I asked tentatively, my hand struggling not to caress her lower back. God, it seemed so easy to touch her, to hold her against me. “Ye seemed distraught.”

“He had a meeting with another faculty assistant.” She pursed her lips in discontent, her eyes avoiding his – hiding her pain and shame. “Something about a spectacular discovery in his newest research.”

“Oh.” I babbled, trying to sound charitable. “Have ye been engaged for a long time?”

“A couple of months.” Claire sighed, her fingers accidentally brushing the back of my neck and making me shiver, preparing to confess her secrets under the protection of the music around us. “Actually, he has been invited to go to America to teach – and asked me to go with him.”

“And will ye?” I asked, almost breathless – pushing down the sudden feeling of panic, like a dark wave that threatened to swallow the skyscrapers of my soul. “Go with him?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She admitted slowly, wincing a little. “But I accepted his proposal so…I should want to go with him, shouldn’t I?”

“I dinna ken much about serious relationships.” I said in a hoarse voice. “But I dinna understand how a man can leave a woman like ye, alone, in such a night. I dinna ken how anything can be more important than being with ye.”

“It’s complicated!” She tried to argue, but her voice lacked the vigour of certainty. “He has to work a lot to get recognized. Sometimes he has to let go of superfluous things, as much as I –“

“Dinna say that!” My voice was a deep rumble, suddenly stripped of all civility. “Ye should be the priority in his life, lass. Ye are a wonderful woman.” I gulped. “Any man deserving of being with ye, should give ye the place ye deserve in his life. Never settle for less, Claire.”

She nodded, looking away to hide the sudden threat of tears. Eventually, her body relaxed and her cheek came to rest in the lapel of my blazer, silently thanking me for my support. I could feel the small movements of her lashes, the hot breath of her life so close to my heart – I never felt more alive, nor more defeated.

We talked and danced the night away – I made her twirl and laugh, until her face was less pale, more like the lively girl in the graveyard, so alive amongst my ghosts.

At the end of the night, I escorted her to a taxi – not daring to offer her my company to her doorway. I feared what the intoxicating mixture of her and the champagne might conjure up.

She smiled – skilfully tucking something inside the pocket of my overcoat – and stood on her toes to kiss my cheek in a tender goodbye. Later, feeling less overwhelmed by the lack of stars, I read her note – “In case you need it. XO”. She had added a phone number underneath the short sentence and a funny smiley face, with abundant curly hair.

I kept her note under my pillow for the next few weeks – a silent dare, urging me to take a leap of faith. I was convinced that my path was fundamentally entwined with Claire’s – it had to be a reason for the insistency of life to place her in my way. She lured me in – fascinated me.

I must have grabbed the phone, adamant on calling her, half a dozen times. Started to dial her phone number – by then carved on my brain with luminescent red ink of desire – at least a dozen more. I mentally prepared our conversation – tried different variations of casualness, honesty and tenderness. I laid awake at night, gazing at the phone, ominous and teasing.

“Iffrin!” I desperately reprehended myself one night, almost a month after the gala. I clenched my teeth, breathed deeply several times, and made the call – prepared to invite her for innocent coffee.

“The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” – said the mechanical and metallic voice that took me back to a place with no stars.