ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs: Rosalie Seeker | Asrai'ev Kalar'aa ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 430 ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: N/A ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I've been in a bit of a writing funk lately, so when a thought popped into my head at around midnight last night I decided to jot it down. And then earlier today I decided to edit it, and this is the end result. Nothing special, just a little shippy thing I'm all smiley about.
He cooed softly under his breath, mostly asleep, as Rosalie sleepily adjusted against him. She hadn't been aware of Asrai'ev's person against hers when her eyes first opened, so it was only after a few blinks of amethyst hues that she was able to note the tight pressure about her ribs that was his arm. It held her close to him, her shoulder blades snugly against his chest, conveying his heart beat and even breathing through skin and fabric. Rosalie hardly ever saw the Knight sleep, and the times when he did manage it seemed to evade even himself. Because of this, the restfulness of his sense in the Force seemed unnatural, despite its lack of entirety. Asra's mind was in ceaseless unrest against the echoes and yells of war and battle, and a thousand demons besides that the silver couldn't have begun to guess at.
But so was hers. She couldn't imagine her own presence feeling much different to her beloved, his older mind all the wiser and more seasoned than hers, though unable still to gather what made her thoughts toss and turn. But all of that seemed to melt like drops of candle wax away from Rosalie's mind—one by one, collecting in a smooth, glossy pool she could not see or feel—as she laced her fingers, long and lithe, between his, rough and worn. Closeness to him was something she treasured, as though it were a shimmering platinum coin she squirreled away in a locked box someplace in her mind.
The Jedi Order forbade love, affection, and intimacy like they were diseases to be vaccinated against. Little good did their restrictions do in the grand scheme of things, but the one bright spot glowing against the solid black backdrop of the Order's binds was the warm, restless flutter felt deep between Rosalie's lungs. The rarity of this—the rarity of him—made one side of her mouth curl upward in a sleepy, lopsided smile. Marginally enhanced alertness brought to Rosalie the sensation of the soft stubble on Asra's cheek gently tickling the sensitive skin of her neck, and her lips lazily bore her teeth as she felt her heart catch.
She curled the backs of her knees around the caps of his, and burrowed her face in a spot between her own free hand and a part of Asra's upper body she couldn't identify in the soft grogginess that coated her. The coming day would demand too much of them in too little time from now, so she greedily savored every moment of this indescribable peace that graced her.
