An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The bouquets were a little piece of comfort during the harsh days thrown back into the thick of the war. Their pleasant smell wafted throughout his berth, drifting to him at moments when he'd become distracted, appearing within his meditations, his dreams colored with the flowers. Sidious/Obi-Wan.
Do you ever just create a Naboo Flower Language for an Odious fic? lolol














