apoptotic: (066)
(pre-) poor little wheeze wheeze ([personal profile] apoptotic) wrote 2017-05-27 08:09 pm (UTC)

[ anakin shakes his head before she is finished. he slips his fingers between hers, and covers the clasped hands with his mechno-arm. her relief is palpable in the force and in her expression. no matter his arrogance in a ship, with a weapon clasped, in the certainty of his own, not unimpressive abilties — before heartfelt gratitude, anakin is disarmed. less the proud knight, and more the earnest little boy who dreamt of stars and believed that if people would only help one another the galaxy would be a better place. ]

You don't owe me anything. I'm glad to serve.

[ his gloved fingers encircle her wrist. he eyes the bandages around her hands. they match the ones he slipped loose of drogon's neck and the tears of her cloak. from the steam of the dragon's blood, it isn't difficult to know from what she earned her injuries. unlike with drogon, he seeks her permission first. ]

Let me?

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