❝ hush, my sweet. these tornadoes are for you. ❞
so many see his anger as fire, his rage burning red throughout the stars — a slash in the flesh of reality, a wound in the body of the galaxy. the golden boy, the promised one — flipped upside down to the darkside of the coin. she knows better what motivates him, what makes him so monstrously angry.
her heart continues to break as his pain spreads and spreads, changing the very landscape of the universe and the future of it.
she can’t bring herself to watch it.
his actions have sent her into hiding, scattering herself into the wind, backtracking and reinventing herself until there is nothing left of the girl from the Temple. the bond between them crackles and bends, but it doesn’t break no matter how hard she screams and tries to break it herself — she can still feel him.
lilly knows, without question, that he will come for her. and she knows, without question, that she will not stop him when he reaches for her. she will not stop her own descent when he drags his fingers over her skin. the thought of the loss of control, loss of herself into the dark that he has flung himself into headfirst is a scary thought indeed, but she knows fear can’t stop this.
he knows her well, he knows she knows him, and it is his greatest weapon.
seeing him before her now, tall, dark against the moon is like something out of a dream. suddenly, she doesn’t know what to do with her limbs, her hands — a fine tremble from being so close to the source of her pain. oh god, oh god, help me.
( she can remember him screaming, she can remember running through the halls every time his agony split her in two. she can remember the white knuckled grip of his hand imprinting his fingertips into her skin. closing her eyes against the destruction he has brought with him, she can feel the hands of the boy — the golden boy. her heart aches, and aches, and aches.)
and so the boy has become the wolf.
her throat chokes out a no, anakin no, please stop this, but he does not. he hungers now, with an intensity that takes her breath out of her body and he does not stop. he does not halt the destruction showering from his hands, does not stop his approach towards her.
he wraps his fingers around her trembling wrists, leans in to whisper against her skin with a sweetness gone horribly poisonous. there’s a moment where she wants to throw up, the struggle between her heart, her mind, and her own power, overwhelming and terrible.
but then he presses a kiss to her temple, the poison soaks into her pores and though the trembling does not stop — she no longer pushes against him. she no longer resists, held between a wall and his body. here, she has a view of the death occurring over his shoulder, and it is a cruel and exquisite agony to be trapped so, when half of her wants to run, and the other half fling her arms around his neck.
finally, he is here, against her — and finally, he is here, eating her from the inside out. his voice stops her heart, the echo of his former self in the playfully spoken words.
‘ found you. ‘
a broken sob, she buries her face in his shoulder, blocking out the billowing smoke and fire. he is so familiar, so warm, the curves of him still here under her hands, she wants to soothe this pain that threatens to overwhelm him ( her ). she wants to wash this away from her skin, his skin, the smoke, the death, the screaming. she wants ( needs ) to be rid of him, but she can’t, she can’t —
‘ you have brought death with you, anakin. you have brought death, please, please, take it back. I beg you. take me with you if you must, but stop this. please. ‘
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