To the galaxy at large, there is nothing suspicious about the two women walking through the busy market street, each carrying a child on their hip, one dressed in faded indigo blue and the other in charcoal grey. They cover their hair and faces but this too is not unusual. They talk quietly to each other before the grey one purchases something from a shopkeeper’s stall. With a bow of her head she turns back to the other woman and hands over a small sachet of candied fruit wrapped in flimsi.
The children on their hips are delighted.
The women continue onwards, carefully meandering through the crowd, standing too close to be anything other than family but looking nothing alike. The blue garbed woman is petite and the occasional glimpse behind her protective scarf reveals a stunning beauty with delicate features and wide brown eyes framed by a loose brunette curls. She looks every inch the mother of the small young girl in her arms.
The grey woman is taller, sharper and there is an air of danger about her movements. Her eyes are blue with bits of green and grey and they are always watching, staring out at the world with lupine wariness. The boy on her hip has hair of golden wheat and his eyes are blue like the sky at noon. It is clear he is not hers and yet he clings to her just as tightly as any child would to its mother.
To the keen eye, they are a family unit and to the clever observer, they are a lady and her knight, on the run from the shadow always nipping at their heels.
“Luke and Leia are getting tired,” the brunette murmurs, reaching out with a soft hand to touch the shoulder of her auburn haired beloved. “Let’s go back to the ship.”
“We’re missing a part to the power coupler,” came the equally tired reply. “I would like to find a replacement sooner rather than later. Why don’t you three go back to the ship?”
“And give you the opportunity to slip away from us?” the smaller woman snorts, shaking her head and wrapping her hand around the other’s. “No. We’ll all find the power coupler or we’ll all return to the ship, Obi-Wan.”
“Not so loud,” Obi-Wan hisses as she looks back at the woman beside her. “We don’t know who’s listening.”
“No one is listening,” the brunette sighs and shifts her child on her hip, the girl yawning and snuggling closer as she chews on her candy. “Come. Let’s go back. You’re getting that look again.”
“And what look is that, Padme?” Obi-Wan sighs, turning her head to kiss Luke on the top of his head as he mumbles his agreement with his mother. “Do you have an exhaustive list of my Looks?”
“We thought about making one,” Padme chuckles softly, for a moment forgetting that “we” is plural and that the other person necessary to make the pronoun work was lost to them. “Please, my love, I’m tired and you look like you want to jump out of your skin. Let’s just head back and leave this place.”
Obi-Wan wants to leave but that power coupler will not handle another convoluted hyperspace jump. They have to stay long enough for her to get the part and replace it.
oh boy… i spent a lot of time on this lol. it’s november & getting colder, in town for supplies she found a thrifted scarf for torbolt; he doesn’t (nor does ven-ghan) have the heart to tell her he doesn’t get cold, but he looks cozy and dashing and it’s nice to have material possessions, so whatever
idk who made the breakfast but it looks pretty good imo
i have no idea where ven-ghan’s ultralinks are… they’re like… off getting desert-based-resources or something; probably bickering on how best to do it like three little old ladies
Soooo… last year I didn’t really make anything good for Jaeha’s birthday because we were in the midst of the Seiboo fiasco, and this year my mind is more stuck on Zeno this week. For lack of any better ideas I just did a continuation of Kusanagi’s series of sketches for Jaeha’s birthday (see here).
……they really are making this dragon want to retire. Sorry, Jaeha.
Because this is what I do at three in the morning. I get random Solavellan baby feels with a heavy dose of Cole. Happy holidays! (Even though this takes place in early spring…)
Cole is probably the only person on the entire planet who enjoys changing diapers.
To be fair, it’s not just the diapers. He just loves being with Samahl. The first thing he does in the mornings is watch her sleep, waiting for her to wake up. She’s a deep sleeper, so he often sits for more than an hour, just quietly watching the babe slumber while Nimue gets them ready for the day’s travel. He never tires of it, sitting in complete silence while the former Inquisitor harnesses Foxglove and breaks camp, until Samahl finally starts to wriggle and whine grumpily for her morning feed. He makes sure she’s clean and dry before he passes her off to her mother for her breakfast, and every little cry, whimper, grizzle, or coo, he knows just what she needs or wants, and he’s always eager to oblige.
Nim would be jealous, if she weren’t so grateful. Without Cole, she’s not sure how well she’d be doing on her own. She likes children well enough, but she’s never had much experience with babies, honestly never thought she’d have one of her own. She skims a hand over her belly, soft and streaked with lightning bolt stretch marks underneath her loose, homespun shirt, and wonders if she’d even have kept Samahl if she’d been fathered by someone else.
It’s selfish, she knows, but she doesn’t think she would have. When Cole told her that she was pregnant, she panicked at first. Had no intention of keeping the baby, but then… Then she thought, in a hidden little corner of her mind, This is something of him that I can keep. Something he can’t steal away in the night. Something to remember him by.