#and lucid just looks dead and like she's not seen warmth in several years

[monstrous-flower]

okay i do think about the first time doodle actually met lucid they instantly complimented his hair and started putting stickers in it while lucid just stood there looking like absolute roadkill im crying

[moralityblurred]

okay these are like way unedited and more an exercise of just...writing without doing too much editing and filtering and second-guessing. so, err....i hope they’re okay? @wrathrisen

15.

he tries to lift him, carry him somewhere more comfortable, but dalton's not much older, not much taller, not much heavier than cameron is, and all the grunted effort does little more than bead sweat along his brow.

in the end he decides it's better to join him, snagging a light throw from the back of his desk chair to gather around his shoulders as he nestles into the opposite end of the couch. it doesn't take long for him to drift away, lulled by the soft sounds of cameron's breath.

it seems when cam is sleeping the effect of his aura -- angry, PAINED -- begins to lessen, or perhaps, like all dalt's senses are want to do at the end of the day, his empathy becomes duller. he's still not certain the wolf's affect causes it at all, wants to deny the migraines and the nausea that come from being in his presence for too long.

unfortunately the pattern is too well-established to be simple coincidence. he doesn't want to tell him and see how it hurts him.

16.

cameron is so close to being a man, only a couple years shy, and the soul within this boy is older, perhaps, than cináed himself. and yet he looks so small and young on the couch, half-curled in on himself, chin resting on his chest. the drawn lines of his face have softened, and the trauma that lurks in the sharp edges of his features appears to have slipped away for the moment. only in sleep can he find peace, he imagines. sometimes it's peaceful for cin, too, when the nightmares don't come.

it's not the first child he's gathered into his arms and carried to a softer bed, but it's the first time he's so at war with himself for so doing. even in his sleep, cameron flinches, a faint whine in his throat. it's enough to strangle a man who has committed countless acts of violence without an ounce of feeling. there's a soft growl, too, as his back leaves contact with the couch and cool air brushes against him to rob him of warmth. reflexively, he holds him tighter, and it seems to quiet the young man.

it dawns upon cináed that he needs to be cared for, needs to be hugged. he sits upon the bed and he does just that, a tear catching along the indentation of scar tissue on his cheek as fingers curl into the front of his shirt. after awhile he shifts and lays cameron down to sleep, barely resisting the urge to press lips to his forehead as he'd done so many times with his own sons.

cameron reminds him of them.

17.

when the wolf's body is still for several moments, roman assumes he's asleep. it's quiet, almost eerily so, and the shadows cast over his face make it impossible to know for certain. roman knows better than to try to move him, as uncomfortable as cameron looks crammed into that chair, too many limbs to fit comfortably. even in the short time he's known him, cam has grown.

not all of that growth has been good. ( most of it hasn’t. )

but he moves instead to try to slide a pillow between his head and the arm of the chair, only to be greeted by a low snarl. “you fucking touch me and i'll RIP your fingers off.” there's a very real jolt of FEAR that shoots through roman's stomach, intestines suddenly liquid. he freezes instantly, and the next minute he's backing away, pillow still extended awkwardly until he lets it fall to the floor. he gets up, pads to the bathroom, and returns to see cameron again curiously still. this time, he's probably asleep for real.

roman doesn't dare to check.

18. 

as dalton remembers a time long ago that he was unable to lift cameron, he's pained by how easy it feels now when the wolf is pale and shivering from a dose of wolfsbane, likely administered through a silver needle for extra potency. there seems to be nothing to him but bone, when he knows this body to carry far more strength than a human's would.

for a hot flash of a second, it makes dalton burn with anger. but anger's never been something he can hold onto for long, and it dissipates into concern just as quickly.

“i need a warm washcloth, and water, to drink. find me the heaviest comforter you can. maybe if he sweats it out, the effects won't last as long.” it's not the first time dalton's come across magical ailments, nor the first time he's tried to provide remedies, but this might be more severe than he is prepared for. his mentors are a phone call away; surely something in their vast wealth of knowledge can help him. help CAM.

“shh, i've got you,” he murmurs as the wolf trembles, limbs jerking in either an attempt to free himself or involuntarily from the poison. “cam, it's me. it's dalton.” he can't be certain how lucid cameron is. he can't remember if wolfsbane alters the consciousness like that. slender fingers press against cameron's scalp, threading through his hair in an attempt to soothe.

it's hard to release him and put him into bed, harder still to resist the urge to climb in beside him. his head's throbbing and he wants to sleep himself, but despite his like of the other boy, those are feelings that have never been reciprocated. cameron has far too much in his life to expend valuable energy on a relationship, and if dalton can scarcely spend a few hours with him before he feels ill, they are hardly well-suited. he won’t intrude upon his space.

he won't leave him alone now, though. at the very least he can wait until someone more familiar arrives.

19.

cináed busies his shaky fingers preparing coffee for cameron, though it's maybe not the best choice of beverage. tea would be better, but he doesn't have any. ( a brit without tea? but cin's long removed from his scottish roots and he's never given over to that particular stereotype anyways. ) anyways, the coffee is warm and he can give the grounds to his neighbor to fertilize her plants. she's already jabbered on about the benefits to the soil, but he can't grow a thing to save his life so he can't remember the specifics.

cam looks exhausted, moreso than usual, which is a testament to how trying his shift is. it's the first time cinaed's seen him right after shifting back. after cin's fearful reaction following the discovery of his curse, cam's kept a careful berth. so he doesn't know why he's here now, but he can't bear to see him like this.

“ya need t' sleep. couch 's open, there's also th' spare bed.” cam's slept on it before, but it's been a long while. of course, coffee's not exactly conducive to sleep, but maybe the warmth will lull him into it regardless. he can hear it beginning to drip into the pot, a second before he smells the comforting aroma.

“i've got food, too. yer welcome t' an'thing in the fridge.” but cam's silent, staring off somewhere cin can't follow, with the worn blanket pulled up to his chin. ( it's the blanket cin first covered him with when he'd fallen asleep watching movies here years ago, and he won't ever throw it out until it's actually falling apart in his hands. )

but he knows by now to leave him be. he'll speak when he wants to. so all cin does is leave a cup of coffee on the table beside him before he shuffles back to bed himself, hoping cam will still be there when he wakes up.

20.

the first thing roman is struck by is the sheer magnitude of warmth exuding from a familiar and rarely smiling face. something twists hard inside of his chest, fractures from the shock and RELIEF of it all. the harsh edge that so long has dogged cameron's presence has softened, as it's only done in the smallest, most secret moments. and like someone who's gotten used to breathing in the thick, heavy air, he finds the lightness almost suffocating, lips parting in a gasp.

or maybe it's that he thought he was DEAD. he'd watched his execution, unable to do anything to stop it.

( and cam had wanted to die, knew it was the only way. he knew he had to die, like he knew so many things, like he SAW right into people. like he saw roman's heart even as barricaded in sarcasm and false bravado as it was. )

as soon as he's close enough he lifts a hand shakily to cameron's face, eyes transfixed on that amber eye gleaming with a new depth he's never seen before. and instead of feeling needled and exposed, he feels...accepted. like the wolf can see every part of him and validates every bit. he wishes wes were here to feel this, he deserves this warmth too, probably more than roman does.

later in a cocoon of blankets roman strokes over lightly freckled skin, radiant and almost glowing, perhaps only in the sense that ABSENCE makes the heart grow fonder and seems to enhance beauty as well.

“you were dead.” fact.

“i lost you.” that, it would turn out, was false.

pink lips curve in a gentle smile and he pulls roman closer, bi-colored eyes connecting with solid blue. “never.” and now cameron would be with them all forever.

[mostthingskenobi]

CHAPTER 8: EVERYONE IS A MESS --- The Dark Side of Obi-Wan Kenobi - Part 1

Summary: The chapter title pretty much says it all: everyone is a mess; everyone is trying to recover; everyone is trying to cope. No one is doing a very good job.

--------------------

CHAPTER 8: Everyone is a Mess

Coruscant – Jedi Temple

Anakin waited until he was alone in the medical ward hallway before he gave in to his emotions. He leaned his forehead against the wall and pressed his hands over his face. He held his breath while hot tears burned in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. The release felt good after all the control and exertion he had mustered. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, leaning his head back against the cool durasteel panels. Anakin looked at his bloodstained hands and clothes; it was too upsetting; he wrapped his arms tightly around his middle as another wave of emotions threatened to drown him. He closed his eyes and focused on his own breathing as Obi-Wan had trained him, clearing his mind of all questions and fear. Anakin was physically and emotionally drained; after meditating for a few moments he fell asleep, his head hanging forward over his knees as he hugged himself.

He woke when something tapped his boot. Anakin looked up to see Yoda standing over him. The Grand Master, who was usually very composed, looked harrowed. He placed a calming hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Clean yourself up you must.” Anakin was too tired to speak. He managed a slight nod, but his eyes drooped and he nearly fell back asleep. “Rest you need,” Yoda soothed.

A sudden stab of fear thrust into Anakin’s mind. Obi-Wan was reaching out to him, fumbling with thoughts, desperately trying to feel his Padawan’s comforting presence. It was startling and rather painful. He clutched a shaking hand to his chest while he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to help his master focus; but it was no use. Fear overwhelmed Obi-Wan’s mind and the only cogent thought Anakin understood was his master’s acute desire to be near his Padawan, to be near something familiar.

When Anakin reopened his eyes he realized Master Windu had joined Yoda and was kneeling next to him, both masters watching him warily. “Is it Obi-Wan?” Windu asked.

Anakin nodded, still unable to speak while trying to wrangle his master’s thoughts into a manageable stream.

“Unusually strong your Force bond is,” Yoda said. “Never before have I seen such a connection.”

“This isn’t normal,” Anakin was finally able to say. “It feels like Obi-Wan can’t control his mind; like he can’t contain his emotions.” Skywalker took a deep breath. “He’s afraid.”

Yoda was thoughtful and silent for many minutes before finally saying, “Perhaps it is best that you close off your connection for now.”

Anakin felt his heart drop. “I can’t leave him all alone. Not after what he’s been through.”

“Protect yourself you must. No good to Obi-Wan will you be if your judgment is clouded by his pain.”

Anakin saw the truth in the Grand Master’s words.

“Go and rest, Skywalker.” Windu said, helping Anakin to his feet. “You need sleep. We’ll send for you if anything happens.”

Windu waited until Anakin was out of sight before he spoke next. “It was remarkable what he did for Kenobi. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Changed your opinion of him has it?”

“I see now that I have certainly underestimated his abilities. He mastered an incredible amount of Force in a moment where he could easily have lost control. If Kenobi lives, it will be because of Anakin.”

Yoda made a contemplative grunt.

--------------------

Obi-Wan was partially conscious; he could feel the medical droids tugging and pulling his flesh, a needle inserted, a laceration cauterized. They had drugged him heavily; he felt no real pain but he was frantically aware of being touched and manhandled. His eyes were too heavy to open, his muscles too weak to move.

His mind kept playing tricks, kept telling him that his wounds were getting wider and deeper, that the droids were taking him apart, dissecting him piece by piece. He reached out for Anakin, hoping to feel an inkling of comfort or reassurance…

The droids suddenly inserted forceps between his ribs. He felt it, the pain barely numbed by the anodyne as they spread open the knife wound in his side. The pressure in his chest changed as blood and air seeped from the puncture. Red, hot pain burned through his lungs, up his neck, into his cheeks until it blistered behind his eyes. He wanted to scream but anesthesia had paralyzed his vocal cords.

A 2-1B medical droid stood near Obi-Wan’s head and placed a bacta-soaked bandage over the right side of the Jedi’s face, soothing the fierce lightsaber gash that stretched from brow to cheek. The droid noticed Kenobi’s left eye, though closed, was tracking erratically; after a moment several tears slipped from the Jedi’s feathery eyelashes and spilled down his temple. The droid processed that tears were not unusual – humans often became emotional when they were anesthetized – but Kenobi’s heart rate was abnormally fast. The 2-1B turned to the medical console and increased the soporific.

Obi-Wan finally drifted into merciful oblivion.

--------------------

Padmé was startled to hear the front door open. Anakin had not been home for days; he had spent numerous sleepless nights at the temple dealing with an emergency. She had tried gently prying for details but he flat out refused to tell her anything, explaining that it was for her own good. Padmé knew better than to push Anakin when his mind was made up so she had let him go without quarreling.

She hurried toward the hall to meet him as he approached, but as he stepped out of the foyer’s shadows into the living chamber, they both froze, startling each other. The hour was very late and he obviously had not expected her to still be awake. His eyes looked haunted and his jaw suddenly snapped shut when he saw her.

Padmé covered her mouth as she gasped. “Ani, is that your blood?” Her voice was timid and quiet, as though she were afraid to hear his answer.

His wife’s gentleness destroyed his last ounce of strength. He crumpled to the floor sobbing. “No,” he mumbled. “It’s not mine.”

Padmé’s arms were suddenly around him. He buried his face in her neck as his tears pooled against her skin. “It’s Obi-Wan’s.” His voice broke and she held him tighter.

“What do you mean?” Her words quivered with fear. “Is he…hurt?” She knew it was a stupid question considering her husband’s blood-soaked clothes; there was blood smeared from his face to the bottom of his boots. “Is he dead?”

Anakin clutched his arms around her. “Not yet.”

“What happened?” Her voice was becoming more frantic. “Why are you covered in his blood?”

Anakin clenched his teeth together, trying to get his emotions under control. “He was captured by a Sith. He’s been missing for days.” Padmé took his cheeks in her hands and looked into his eyes. She looked angry and heartbroken. His fearless wife was terrified; it made Anakin feel unbalanced. “They tortured him, Padmé. Just for the fun of it.”

They sat in the middle of the room, wrapping warmth and safety around each other as they cried together. Finally, Padmé helped Anakin out of his clothes and sent him to wash up. Eventually he crawled into bed next to her and fell asleep in her arms while she stroked his hair.

--------------------

There was no notion of time, no measurement of depth or pain as Obi-Wan gradually became lucid. He would slip in and out of consciousness, hearing Anakin’s voice one minute, Satine’s the next; but always in the back of his mind a darkness brewed. Hopelessness would swallow him as the Duchess played across his thoughts, and then crushing despair would devolve into self-hatred, followed by an insatiable desire for revenge. Over and over this caliginosity swelled like a wave until it burst; then he would yield to exhaustion, slipping back into nothingness.

His eyes were closed but he could hear someone or some thing moving around the room. Machines were gently beeping and hissing. There was a loud scraping sound as someone pulled a chair up beside him. He could feel their thoughts reach out to him.

You’re going to be alright, they said.

He was too tired to answer but the kindness warmed his heart.

I’m here now. They placed a hand on his shoulder.

He was able to relax. The presence beside him was soothing. He began to drift back to sleep.

I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every single cut. Your death will be beyond excruciating.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, his entire body going rigid with fear as he woke with a start. He expected to see a horned creature with seething red eyes; instead Anakin was hovering over him with a concerned look on his face. Kenobi took several panicked breaths and shifted his gaze around the room looking for Maul.

“Master, it’s alright,” Anakin said, placing a firm hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Kenobi finally recognized his ex Padawan, and, as they locked eyes, the Jedi Master felt a rush of gratitude calm his spirit. He tried to reach his undamaged hand to his friend but he was only strong enough to extend his fingers. Anakin, well attuned to his master after many years, understood immediately and scooped Obi-Wan’s hand into his own, squeezing it tightly.

“I thought for sure I had lost you, Obi-Wan.”

Kenobi could only manage a slight, snarky eyebrow twitch. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice coarse and brittle. He swallowed thickly before laying back and closing his eyes.

Anakin stood for a long time holding Obi-Wan’s hand, wrapping his master in the Force, sending calming waves around his friend. Kenobi’s face was covered in ghastly purple and green bruises, and, despite bacta treatments, the laceration down the right side of his face was still angry and inflamed, his eye nearly swollen shut. Having watched the medical droids monitor Kenobi all day, Anakin knew Obi-Wan was not yet out of danger. His master had a high fever, his skin felt like fire to the touch; he was nearly delirious with constant pain; his pulse and breathing were highly irregular due to the holes in his chest that would not heal. In fact, at this moment, Anakin watched as Obi-Wan’s breathing grew shallow and labored. Kenobi’s brow pulled together and his body began to tremble and twitch.

“What’s happening?” Skywalker asked as the 2-1B medical droid came over to monitor Obi-Wan’s oxygen levels.

“The patient’s pain suppressors have worn off.” The large silver droid prepared an injection and administered it into Obi-Wan’s IV. Anakin watched his master’s body slowly ease back; all his limbs went slack, his jaw visibly loosened, and his hands fell open. Skywalker hoped Kenobi would finally be able to get some much-needed rest.

--------------------

READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome!

READ CHAPTER 1 - It’s All My Fault...

READ CHAPTER 2 - Heed My Word

READ CHAPTER 3 - Brothers

READ CHAPTER 4 - A Sacred Memory

READ CHAPTER 5 - For Obi-Wan’s Sake

READ CHAPTER 6 - Our Time Has Run Short

READ CHAPTER 7 - Rescue

READ CHAPTER 8 - Everyone is a Mess

READ CHAPTER 9 - Nightmares

READ CHAPTER 10 - Opportunity

READ CHAPTER 11 - Yoda Tries

READ CHAPTER 12 - What Do You Need From Me?

READ CHAPTER 13 - Master

READ CHAPTER 14 - Into the Storm

READ CHAPTER 15 - Anakin’s Report

READ CHAPTER 16 - Sidious Manipulation

READ CHAPTER 17 - Darkness Waking

[inze]

five times + near-dying (fistofrao)

@fistofrao (I had to put this one under a cut because dear god it got long)

Meme - vaguely accepting, but it’s like lowkey. I’ll only do them when I have lots of muse and downtime at work.

Near-Death

1. They had known each other for a while, forged their friendship during the intense training of the academy. Astra couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather have at her side. Keora understood her in a way that was almost familiar. It wasn’t the same as Alura, but the bond was just as strong and unshakable. Keora was a lifeline in an otherwise harsh and unfeeling environment. But oddly enough, Astra had never been as afraid of losing her as she had Alura. Not until it happened. They were both part of an advanced class, two of the youngest in it. One of their duties was to help test some of the newer equipment, figure out the bugs. It was always supervised and not usually as dangerous as it could be. They had been testing a new prototype glider. Everyone agreed that it was well designed and would be perfect for individual soldiers to get into enemy territory without being detected. The whole group had been playing with them for the better part of a day, slowly growing confidence in the product. They were sure there was no way they could break. Keora, being herself, was out trying a fast maneuver when something seemed to snap. For a moment, no one moved, but then Astra ran, jumping off the ledge they’d been standing on. A few people called out to her, but it was too late. She angled herself down, using the fact that she was diving while Keora was trying to ease up to her advantage. Astra slammed into her friend, wrapping her arms around her. With the added weight, it was difficult to not keep racing to the ground, but Astra pulled up slightly, slowing their descent. It made for a sort of softer landing, but they both crashed into the ground and rolled heavily across the dirt and into the bushes. Groaning, Astra eventually was able to push herself up and scramble towards Keora, reaching to check her over. Her friend, unharmed, though shaken by the fact she could have fallen and died, saw the look in her eyes and started to snicker. In a few moments they both were laughing, fueled by the effects of the adrenaline. They hugged tightly and then flopped to the ground. Tomorrow they would be sore and more than certainly reprimanded for recklessness, but they’d survived and they had each other. 

2. It was rare that they were paired together after the glider incident, but there came a time when it was needed. A colony in the far reaches of Krypton’s influence was being attacked by a mercenary band. Several squads are sent and it ends up that Keora is part of one while Astra is the second in command of another. Since Astra was being fast tracked into the command positions, there hadn’t been much opportunity for them to see each other, but the bond was still there. After a few weeks of no activity, people relaxed. The colonists were more friendly and the soldiers no longer jumped at every sudden noise. Astra was co-leading a routine check and managed to get Keora as part of the squad. While she did outrank her, Astra knew that there wasn’t anyone else better to have. They had gotten to the furthest part of their route when shots rang out. Suddenly a band from the mercenaries or perhaps all of them, Astra can’t tell, are charging towards them. Astra and the other officer shout out orders, trying to get people behind cover. A few Kryptonians get caught by the onslaught, but most make a sort of retreat. Then the shout comes to shoot. She isn’t sure who it’s from, but it creates chaos. A flurry of shots and the sound of weapons being drawn sounds through the air. The next thing that comes is the screams. Some are familiar and others are otherworldly. Astra was trying to provide covering fire and get her soldiers out. There was no way that they could win this. But there was no communication and with every mercenary down, another seemed to appear. The soldier next to Astra shifted and then suddenly a huge alien with claws jumped from above and tore his throat out, Astra screamed herself, but the gun she had came up in that so practiced motion and she shot. The alien collapsed with the body of someone who had once been her responsibility to keep alive. She swore and then just ran, trying to find someone who was still alive. Without any ammo left, Astra dropped the gun and pulled out her knife. It was better than nothing. Then she spotted a figure. As she got closer, her heart caught in her throat. It was Keora. Her friend had fallen, but there was no sign of an active injury. Dropping to her knees, Astra leaned over, trying to find a pulse. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her several tries, but eventually she finds it, a pulse. It isn’t steady and it’s faint, but it is there. For a moment, Astra relaxes. But that moment means she’s let her defense down. Someone charges towards her and she fumbles for her knife, still trying to shield her unconscious friend. Claws rip into Astra’s back as she finally grasps the knife and then she turns, using the surprise that she’s still alive to bury the blade into the creature’s chest and crack it upwards. Astra knows she must have hit a vital spot with all the blood that starts pouring from the wound and the fact its eyes glaze over. She pushes the body away and stumbles. Her back stung and she could feel the tearing of the wound as she moved. But there wasn’t time to deal with that. Astra groaned and picked up Keora, not willing to even consider leaving her friend on this ground and started to move back towards the settlement. She makes it to the outskirts before she collapses. There is too much blood loss. So much that it’s blended with the blood of others that she has on her clothes and they’ve caked together in her clothes. Her vision has been growing darker with every step and then it finally falls into pitch black. When Astra wakes up again, Keora is there, clutching her hand. Astra can’t help but give a smile, though it’s not quite natural as the drugs in her system make things slow. “Good, I thought I lost you,” she says, her voice not quite her own, lips fumbling with the words. Keora swallows and returns the smile. Astra can’t see the way that tears seem to well up in her friend’s eyes. “I thought the same, mizhao. But I’m glad to see I didn’t.” Astra nodded. “You will never lose me. Not without a fight anyways, my friend.”

3.  It’s many years until the thought of Keora reappears in Astra’s mind. They are both commanders in their own right, each with families and responsibilities. It’s harder to see each other, to keep in touch, but Astra always does keep tabs on her friend. She misses her, but there are things that she has to protect and keep safe that keep her from reaching out. But when she hears about Keora’s brush with death, Astra’s blood runs cold. There isn’t even a question of what to do. She clears a few days and drops almost everything. Guilt coats her heart as she travels to Keora’s home, where she is recovering. Had her position in leadership made her that much more short sighted? If Astra couldn’t protect the few people that she loved then there was no point in her even trying to protect Krypton. She knew then that she had to do something different and she vowed that when she got home that there would be no stone left unturned. Astra would make sure to keep her family from being hurt. But she reached the other woman’s house finally and seeing her friend helped to calm her mind. Once they were inside, Astra pulled Keora into a tight hug, pressing her lips to the other woman’s temple. Being able to feel her warmth and hear her heartbeat was enough to confirm that Ke was here and alive. There was a laugh from her friend and Astra finally pulled away. “It’s been too long, but I came as soon as I heard. I’m glad to see you, now, tell me about everything that has been going on. I’ve missed you dearly.” 

4. One of the side effects that they couldn’t have known about the Kryptonite emitters is that it weakens the immune system as well. So when Keora gets sick, really sick, Astra begins to grow worried. She’s promised to stop bringing up taking out the emitters, but this nearly makes her start again. Astra hovers by Keora’s bed with every ounce of spare time that she gets and badges the doctors with as many questions as she can. The only explanation that they have is that there are many different diseases that Keora hasn’t experienced and without the powers from the yellow sun, she can’t fight them off. There are still moments of lucidity and it almost makes it worse when Keora is telling her that it’ll be alright. Disease isn’t an enemy that she could have fought for Keora and it hurt to have to watch her friend struggle through something without her. They’d been through so much, seen enemies fall to them, but this is achingly lonely in a way that battle never was. It had been years since Astra had ever thought of praying, but on the nights where all she could do is hold Keora’s hand and hope, she finds herself begging anything larger than her to take pity on them. This was one of the few people in the world that she had left and to take her away would have been too cruel. So when the fever finally breaks and things look to be better, Astra is grateful. She’s never been more grateful. Nothing really changes, but Astra makes sure to give Keora more oranges and points her to other healthier options. 

5. It feels like what Astra would imagine death would feel like. Her body tenses and then there is a rush in her ears, her vision going for a moment. Then everything relaxes and Astra knows for sure that she’s not dead, not with the warmth she can feel between her legs. Her eyes open and her hand reaches down, tugging Keora’s hair and pulling her up for a kiss. Though Astra does have to ignore the satisfied smirk on her lover’s face. They fit together so well and Astra marvels at how this feels. They took so long to get here, to this level of being together, but even now, Astra can’t think of anyone else that she wants to have by her side. She loves Keora so deeply that this feels like coming home. It makes it worth every moment of pain and suffering. Astra would take it all again for these few moments of peace.