EVERYTHING IS GOLD. the curtains glow, luminous against their blurred vantage. when she breathes in, the air is warm and heavy, filling her lungs with the scent of linen and morning. she shifts, blinking away dreams and midnight recollections, and there is the girl: golden / ethereal. remarkably, miraculously asleep. the edge of a peaceful exhale catches her jaw.
she cares little for dwelling on what might be. regret is for the war and the war does not live here, in the space between their sun-soaked bodies and pale, wrinkled sheets. and yet the magic of the moment takes her breath, swallows it up in the honey-thick dawn. ( scenario: perhaps it does not matter if the war is over, because the fight has seeped into the base of your weathered bones. but the girl you love is still with you. and that is really all you can ask of the universe. )
her hand hovers, suspended in a sunlight prism from the facets of a gently exposed window, outlining the curve of leia’s hip. she pulls it to her chest and settles back, memorizing the angles of her partner’s face where lines no longer make valleys in her skin. waiting / observing / basking in the morning, the sanctity of watching her at peace.
she forgets her plans. she forgets the tediously wrapped gift stashed away in an obscure drawer. she smiles, and the feeling, the intensity of unchecked adoration, is as heated and precious as liquid gold.
kaledo-art
izzy806
dailybridgerton
