From an ember came a spark. From that spark came a flame. And from that flame came unquenchable fire, burning across the galaxy.
Hope is ablaze, and dissidence is springing up everywhere from Core to the Outer Rim. But there are those who would seek...
They had kissed only a few times before like this, and what moments they had shared had mostly been when they had been somewhere, cornered, when they had been sure they were about to die. They never planned it, but somehow, over the years, they had become so attuned to one another while keeping their distance at the same time that moments when the danger around them was at its peak always brought them close.
It was their way of saying goodbye... just in case. And with their new duties to the Rebellion, they were forced to say goodbye far too much.
It was always the same: without any ceremony, Kanan would press his lips to hers quickly, put the two halves of his lightsaber together, and tell her to get ready to play her part in some desperate last-minute strategy that, against all odds, somehow always worked.
Some secret part of her dreaded the day when his latest hair-brained scheme would go horribly wrong, and their last kiss would really be their last kiss.
"I want you to go talk to Teri," Hera said when they finally parted, brushing that dark line of thought away and coming back to the present. "That's what I want."
"Come with me."
"Kanan, I have work to do here."
He shot her a look. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Uh..." Search her brain as she did, she honestly couldn't remember. But she wasn't about to tell him that. "A few hours ago," she lied.
"Don't give me that." He stood up, extending a hand. "Come on – there's this place I noticed on the corner. Last I checked, they were selling spiced shaak broth with kwhyen noodles for a really good price, and I know how much you like those. There's a bowl of it with your name on it. On me."
She hesitated for a moment, looking at the tools beside her and then back up at him. Then, she smiled. "Kanan Jarrus, are you asking me on a date?"
"You're the one who called it that," Kanan said, but Hera saw right through it.
She chuckled knowingly, taking his hand. "Alright, hotshot – let's get going."
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
Four days. Four blasted days shackled in these Force-draining cuffs, locked away in a prison cell of a room with no Imperial rescue party in sight.
It was enough to drive a person mad.
Dammit, Sky Guy, where the hell are you?
Sorena snarled in frustration, her yellow and red eyes opening to gaze upon her modest quarters. She couldn't concentrate like this, with nothing but her own reflections to keep her company – she needed the Force to help sort them into the little balls of barely restrained chaos that she could use to push her forward.
"Patience," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and shifting slightly where she was on the small cot in one corner of the room. She closed her eyes, searching for any tendril of the Force she could access. But she found none. She had no choice but to look inward.
