[She stares down at that little square of black ink. Protection from the droids.]
This is the concern of your own. The motivation you had for going on the mission with Luke.
[Her eyes flick back up to Ben's face, wide with incredulity. Something that was fairly irregular, that happened but the once in all her time here, and that is what he sought to earn with his points. Why he sought the points to begin with.
It could be arrogance to think he intends it for her. But he'd held it, dropped it. Hid it. Who else could he mean to give it to?]
Ben-
[Low rough- a thought that is never voiced because she's no longer here. She's twisting bloody hands in familiar brown fabric, trying to close a ragged wound and failing. His breath gurgles, broken fingers twitch, wrenched limbs locked up and convulsing- broken. Shattered against black rock and she can't put it back together again, can't put his eyes back in his skull and make him look at her and-
She jerks forward with a low gasp, eyes slamming shut, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Swallowing back bile and trying to breathe through the rest of what she saw. Felt. Held in her hands and failed to mend.
Trembling still she reaches out to rest her hands against his ribs, his shoulders and chest, over every inch that had been rent asunder. Whole. Not torn. Not broken and wrenched open like a melon. Just to confirm it for herself. One hand slides up to cup the back of his skull. Round as it should be. Not dented and wrong from a fall. Gently, so very gently turns his head so she could look up into eyes that were exactly where they needed to be. And wept.]
warning for violent imagery
[She stares down at that little square of black ink. Protection from the droids.]
This is the concern of your own. The motivation you had for going on the mission with Luke.
[Her eyes flick back up to Ben's face, wide with incredulity. Something that was fairly irregular, that happened but the once in all her time here, and that is what he sought to earn with his points. Why he sought the points to begin with.
It could be arrogance to think he intends it for her. But he'd held it, dropped it. Hid it. Who else could he mean to give it to?]
Ben-
[Low rough- a thought that is never voiced because she's no longer here. She's twisting bloody hands in familiar brown fabric, trying to close a ragged wound and failing. His breath gurgles, broken fingers twitch, wrenched limbs locked up and convulsing- broken. Shattered against black rock and she can't put it back together again, can't put his eyes back in his skull and make him look at her and-
She jerks forward with a low gasp, eyes slamming shut, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Swallowing back bile and trying to breathe through the rest of what she saw. Felt. Held in her hands and failed to mend.
Trembling still she reaches out to rest her hands against his ribs, his shoulders and chest, over every inch that had been rent asunder. Whole. Not torn. Not broken and wrenched open like a melon. Just to confirm it for herself. One hand slides up to cup the back of his skull. Round as it should be. Not dented and wrong from a fall. Gently, so very gently turns his head so she could look up into eyes that were exactly where they needed to be. And wept.]