kawuli: (Default)

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

Rokia usually comes back from therapy sessions shaken but this is the first time she’s actually shaking. The session runs long, and instead of sending Rokia out to the waiting room on her own, Adriana comes with her, one hand on Rokia’s shoulder. Walks her all the way over to where Lyme’s stood up to greet them but is frozen at the fear on Rokia’s face, the way she’s curled in, protecting herself.

“Lyme’s here,” Adriana says, in a soft voice. “You’re okay.”

Rokia looks up, wide-eyed, and Lyme crouches down, forearms balanced over her knees so Rokia can watch her without looking up. “Hey, kiddo,” she says, cautious.

Rokia blinks a few times, like she’s trying to clear her head, then steps forward. Lyme stands up and Rokia moves in close, wrapping her arms around Lyme’s waist, leaning her head against Lyme’s shoulder. Lyme hugs back, one hand working into Rokia’s hair, scratching against her scalp. She catches Adriana’s eye over Rokia’s head, raises an eyebrow.

Adriana looks tired, now that Rokia’s not watching, and she shakes her head slowly. Lyme strokes Rokia’s hair again and asks, “Hey kiddo, you wanna go home?” Rokia nods against her, doesn’t move. Lyme hesitates for a second, then lifts the girl onto her hip. Rokia doesn’t protest, doesn’t even tense up, just fits herself against Lyme’s side.

She walks into the house by herself, but she’s still sticking close like a shadow, still not saying anything, so Lyme walks over to the couch and lets Rokia curl into her lap, strokes Rokia’s hair and rubs her back until she falls asleep.

kawuli: (Default)
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

It doesn’t rain often on Jakku. But last night it did, hard and furious, and this morning the air is strange and cool when Rey heads out.

She’s thinking about the cluster of ships she’s aiming for when she heads into a shallow depression and she pulls her hand off the throttle in shock. It’s like her dream—blue, spreading out under her speeder’s jets in waves. It’s a pool in between the dunes, but it isn’t water, it’s flowers, tiny blue things stretching upwards on impossibly thin stalks. Rey stops in the middle of the bowl and climbs off. The sand crunches as her feet break through the thin crust on top, and underneath—Rey crouches down—it’s wet, the sand sticks to her fingers, leaves dust marks on her fingers when she wipes them on her leg.

She stays there a long time, squatting down unmoving to keep from crushing more blossoms and breathing in the smell of unexpected life.

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