youmaythinkyouknowme.

her back is to him when he speaks, and she’s almost halfway around a bench, but his voice is soft — and it carries an undercurrent of pain that she cannot ignore.

he doesn’t reach for her but the gesture is felt nonetheless, and as hard as she has had to be — there are parts of her that are still soft, and they soften with his words.

the shawl wrapped around her shoulders tightens as she turns slowly to face him and then settle back on the bench.

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it’s okay, I understand. you’re hurting.

she does not understand in a Temple full of enlightened beings that such suffering of one of their own is allowed to exist —- to continue without some kind of gentle care. how long has his soul been screaming, she wondered.

lilly also realizes, after the words leave her mouth, she has no right to read him or his dreams without at least his permission.

— sorry, I mean — I felt— I saw —

she fumbles with the words, heavy on her tongue as she looks down at the ground. the woman is ashamed of sensing before asking, a habit not easily broken. not to mention she’s still getting used to the idea that there are others like her who won’t call her a freak for what she can do.

I mean I probably was just as surprised to see you as you were to see me.

lame, constantine.

he speaks of his master, obi-wan kenobi of the council, and she mentally plays back the brief meeting she had had with the council — searching for the man in the circle that belonged to the name.

does he have kind eyes and a soft voice? kinda cute? and by kinda, I mean super cute.

she offers him her best lopsided grin, a roguish smile at best really. if she wasn’t so out of her element, she’d be flirting with him too — but discretion tells her that this isn’t the time, nor the place for that sort of thing. won’t stop her from trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

yeah, he was there. didn’t say much though, none of them did. I don’t think they know what to do with me yet. I hope they figure it out, and soon, I miss the ocean.

               HE TENSES, SLAMMING his shields back down with the force of closing hanger doors. Sealed && impenetrable, he visualizes his mind as a rocky cliff face, spidering with near-invisible seams to the inside. His thoughts pulse violently in their containment, battering his mental blockade from the inside-out. But Anakin is relentless in his shame, in his unwillingness to share these darker corners of himself with anybody, let alone a practical stranger such as Miss Constantine. 

               At least she recognizes the breach in privacy for what it is. But Anakin can only find it within himself to nod shakily in turn, still unbalanced by the validity of her statement. 

     ❝ It’s— fine. ❞ He’d been the same way in the beginning: overflowing, his brain on fire with the force && all of the universe screaming through his bones. There’d been a time when Anakin couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the living force flashing on the backs of his lids. A net of flame; the living force hangs like water droplets at its intersections, spinning && warping endlessly. Lattices of light merge, break, && reform in fractal patterns. 

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               The mention of his master presses a pink flush to the tips of his ears && down the back of his neck. Anakin has to resist scratching behind his head in nervous habit. ❝ Ah— uh, I mean…yes? ❞ Kind of cute? Super cute? He’s not blind but he’s certainly not used to confronting that particular reality. Sure, plenty of people—both men, women, && other—take the time to ogle his master when he walks by. && yes, maybe Anakin has also caught himself ogling Obi-Wan—

               Ahem. 

     ❝ The ocean? Where are you from? ❞ He jumps on the subject change, curiosity piqued by the mention of an ocean. Or ‘the ocean’ as Lilly puts it. 

 
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independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.