Like a scene straight out of a movie, the moment he was summoned, the world seemed to get darker. They were just standing on a rocky cliff, the sun high above them as gentle ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore below. Now, grey and heavy storm clouds rolled out of nowhere and blanketed the sky, hiding the sun and threatening to send a cascade of rain atop their heads. The once gentle ocean now churned and crashed against the cliff side so hard, Lincoln was sure that it was trying to bring the entire rock face and them with it down to the bottom of the sea. Somewhere along the sea horizon, thunder rolled.
And there he was. Standing tall and menacing before them, surrounded by a thick, neon green mist that circled around his calves. His eyes piercing the dark like two cursed emeralds, dangerous and threatening, and even though all his instincts told him to look away and bolt like a wee barra into his mother’s skirts, Lincoln couldn’t help but stare back into them.
He was staring into the eyes of a god. The god. The god he had been warned to never be in contact with. The god that had more rumors spread about him than legends. The god that even the other gods, his own father included, never talked about.
The god that had been lost for generations, was standing right before his very eyes. Glowing, practically overflowing with unused ancient energy that seemed to course and surge around him like green venomous lightning.
All because some fourteen year old girl called him a Seaweed Brain.
the first time rey sings to finn he’s still sleep, his spine knitting itself together in the dark and dreaming. (skin is easy, it turns out. nerves are hard.)
(it’s nothing, a song she heard some trader sing as he was repairing his ship, the trader who flashed her a smile, a wink that made her feel oil-slick and foul, but he didn’t touch her and he sang, he sang about stars, and maybe that was what it was supposed to feel like?
….she didn’t have a frame of reference, then.)
the second time, finn’s a hundred thousand light-years away, halfway across the galaxy—maybe more, she’s accustomed to measuring distance in relative terms, but she is not on jakku anymore, she is standing on the grey rocky cliff overlooking a wine-dark sea and longing, longing—
(luke was singing this song to himself, and she’d coaxed the words from him; major calonia startles, a lightyears and parsecs away, when the still-unconscious finn breathes a corellian lullaby.)
the third time she is dreaming and finn is there-not-there. hey, finn murmurs, his voice dipping low, a song in itself. you got a cute boyfriend?
rey hums against his mouth.
(in the interim, finn wakes, with a song half a century old and in huttese on his lips. why are you crying? he asks general organa.
my brother, she says, brokenly, and he pretends to know what she means.)
the fourth time, rey is there, she is clambering into finn’s hospital bed and wrapping her arms around his neck and singing, lover, go with me, into the clover—
what’s clover? finn asks.
I don’t know, rey laughs against his jaw, inhaling the sharp-sweat smell of him, the badly-mixed protein pack and antiseptic. let’s find out.