@redsabered said: MY CHARACTER HAS AMNESIA, AND CAN’T REMEMBER ANYONE OR THEMSELVES. SEND, “REMEMBER ME?” FOR THEIR REACTION (for leia because…ouch)
there’s a dislike for being confined within the medbay , she knows this . there’s a familiarity with being surrounded by bodies pressing in and questions raining down , she knows this . there’s a level of respect held towards her wherever she goes , she sees this . there are things she knows , things she recognizes , yet none of it offers a clue as to what it might mean . they call her General , but she does not remember being in the military . they call her Princess , but she does not remember coming from royalty . there are things she knows , but there are no memories attached to them to offer an explanation as to why . she does not recognize her touch and influence in the lives of those around her . she does not remember her role in restoring hope throughout the galaxy . she does not recognize her hope right in front of her .
the young man standing before her asks what so many before him have asked . she wonders how she could know so many people , though she suspects the titles the attached to her may have something to do with it . a feeling of distraught fills her when asked once more , wishing desperately that she did remember . that she could offer solace to those who looked to her for guidance out of instinct and experience . aged hands are folded in front of her , resisting the urge to let restlessness disturb the neat folds of her robes . ❝ no , i don’t . ❞ she responds quietly , dark eyes dimmed and shining with remorse and distress as a frown tugs at her mouth . ❝ i’m sorry . ❞
the parts of him that had been torn apart by sinister forces and put back together wrong have since come apart at the seams. it’s a familiar kind of pain, a twisting and fraying, but he feels it primarily in the pieces of his heart now. the raw edges feel as if they are scraping together as the organ somehow keeps beating away inside his chest.
"it’s okay. i just...” he tries a smile, but only feels one corner of his lips twitch. it’s an unfamiliar gesture now.
there are a dozen half phrases on his tongue about whether she’s better of this way, about the ocean of hurt and mistrust and betrayal between them at his hands, but he is overcome with such a sudden onslaught of exhaustion that he almost feels as if he will lose his footing. he’d been involved in the same accident that had given her this injury but has refused all treatments that aren’t strictly necessary – no bacta or pain meds to ease the suffering that feels like penance – and all he wants to do is be close to her, to feel the thrum of her bright energy through the bond that connects them still and has never wavered, even with years of bloodshed keeping them apart.
he buries those feelings and feigns casual instead. “i just came by to tell you that under normal circumstances, you’d be appalled by the state of your hair. i mean,” he waves a hand in her general direction. “you take great pride in it. never a strand out of place. it’s almost shocking to see you like this.”
it’s rare, this vein of obstinance that runs through him, but it gives his voice a lazy-amused tone that always reminds him of his father. he knows he sounds overly sardonic, but he pushes on.
“i can show you. it might help you feel more like yourself. if you’re comfortable with my help, of course.”