Private Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

[Lorn Reingard]

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Lorn's arms tightened around her almost instinctively, as if his body understood before his mind did that she needed to feel held right now. He felt her curl into him, the soft weight of her head tucked into the place where his shoulder met his neck, her breath warm against his skin.

Her words, "You're my safe place," landed in him with quiet, heavy gravity.

It would have been easy to deflect, to make a joke about how terrible his cooking was or how small his quarters were. That was his usual armor. But she'd set hers down, and for once, he didn't want to pick his up.

His palm slid slowly up her back, fingertips brushing through the loose fall of her hair. "Then you're already doing right by her," he murmured, meaning it more than he expected. "And by me."

He shifted slightly so he could see her face, one hand coming to rest at her jaw. His lips quirked in the faintest smile. "I'm sure Isla will be fine with it," he said. "If anything, she probably likes you more than me. And she's not subtle about it, either."

"Yesterday she told me I 'don't listen as well as you do,'" he added, his brows lifting a fraction. "I was standing right there."

He watched the way her mouth curved, the way the morning light caught in her eyes, and something in his chest loosened. It was dangerous, this ease. Dangerous for someone who had built his life on the expectation that good things didn't last.

And yet, he found himself leaning in anyway, his forehead brushing hers again. "You fit here," he said quietly. "You fit in all of it. The space, the noise, even the quiet times."

His thumb traced lightly along her cheekbone, not looking away. "If you want to be here, Ala, then you're here. No conditions."

He kissed her then, unhurried, the kind that made time feel irrelevant. When he finally drew back, he didn't go far, just rested there with her, letting the silence fill the spaces words couldn't reach.

"You know," he added softly,"if you keep stealing my breakfast, I might start thinking you're planning to stay."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

She listened. As she did, her fingers drew lazy circles on his chest. "You have some grey hairs," she muttered, "I like them."

Her voice turned gravelly, lips pouty in a playful way. "So...dignified..."

"She only says those things because she is lashing out. It will get better. She is hurting. You are a good dad." Every word was a whisper but sincere. A hint a sleepiness in her tone.

"A girl would be lucky to have you as their dad," she said, head leaning lazily against his arm.

"She will see it one day. I know it."

She accepted the kiss with a twinkling gaze in reply. Curly mop atop her head, with errant hairs giving her a slight mad-woman appearance. But her face was aglow.

"We can tell her after this Katabasis mission. Sit down for a meal. Be honest about it. Let he ask what she needs to ask. Not...hide from things."

Her voice dipped into something more contemplative at the end, and she scooted up against his arm a little more. Her finger started its mindless dance across his chest again. "Tell me...about her...about...about Isla's mother..."

| Outfit: Not much | Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

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Lorn let out a low, surprised laugh at her comment, a sound that rumbled against her ear where she leaned against him. His hand smoothed over her back as he shook his head. "Grey hairs," he said, a reluctant but real grin pulling at his mouth. "That's the unexpected turn of becoming a father. Isla's turning me into an old man before I even hit midlife." His eyes softened as he looked down at her, catching the playful pout of her lips and the wild tangle of her curls. His chest ached, but in the best possible way.

Her next words, about Isla and about being honest, made him exhale through his nose. It was a weary acceptance, and also a relief. "You're right," he said quietly. "When we get back, we'll sit with her. We'll share a meal. No hiding, no half-truths. She deserves that. We'll let her ask what she needs."

But then Ala's question lingered between them, heavier than the rest. It pulled at a part of him he usually kept locked and distant. His hand, which had been tracing idle patterns along her spine, stilled. He blinked, staring past her for a moment, like the name itself had pulled him back into another time.

"Virginia," he said slowly, the word catching in his throat. He swallowed hard before continuing, his gaze finding Ala's again. "I don't...talk about her much. Tried not to think about her for years." His jaw shifted, tension flickering in his expression, but he didn't retreat. Ala was curled against him, her warmth and steady presence grounding him.

"She was...different than me," he murmured. His hand lifted to tuck one of Ala's curls behind her ear, lingering there as he spoke. "Kind, caring, softer. She was put together in a way I never was. She tempered me, taught me how to see the Force as more than duty and power. She showed me how beautiful the galaxy could be, even when it was ugly."

His voice grew quieter, threaded with something fragile. "We grew up close, spending most of our childhood side by side. If you want to know her, Ala, to truly understand her, just look at Isla. The best parts of her, the light, that's Virginia. Every day I see pieces of her mother staring back at me."

He paused, his thumb brushing along Ala's cheekbone. He needed to feel her there, real and present, to keep from drifting too far into the past. His eyes darkened slightly, haunted for a moment. "The last time I saw her...she wasn't the Virginia I knew. That shattered me in ways I'm still learning how to carry." He broke off, pulling in a slow, steadying breath before shaking his head, almost as if to scatter the lingering ghosts.

When he looked at Ala again, his expression softened. "I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing his forehead gently to hers. "You didn't ask for all that weight."

He tilted, then, brushing his lips against hers in a deep, unhurried kiss, grounding himself in her warmth. His hand slid into her curls, holding her close, as if the contact itself could remind him that the present was still his to claim.

When he drew back just enough to breathe, his voice dropped low, rough with sincerity. "Thank you for asking, though. For caring enough to want to know her. It means more than I can say."

He stayed close, his nose brushing hers, his hand still framing her face. "And you know..." His mouth quirked faintly, the faintest tease returning to soften the edges. "You're making me forget all about my grey hairs."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala let his laugh vibrate through her where she lay against him, smiling faintly when he mentioned grey hairs. Her fingers idly slipped through the ends of his hair, inspecting dramatically. "Still a few years to go before you're officially distinguished," she teased, and gave a small, approving nod.

She hummed in quiet agreement when he spoke about Isla, her fingers now tracing slow, lazy shapes against his chest. "A meal. No hiding. We can do that," she whispered.

But then he spoke Virginia's name. And everything else in Ala stilled.

She didn't speak.

She didn't try to fill the air with comfort or comparison. Didn't scramble to reassure him or offer some fragile truth of her own. Instead, she moved, slowly, lifting herself just enough to tuck her body closer, until their hearts were pressed together.

One of her hands found his jaw and held it gently, fingers resting near his ear as he spoke. Her eyes never left his face.

When he described Virginia, kind, softer, Ala swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat. Her thumb brushed his cheekbone, still wordless and tender.

But when his voice faltered… when he said, "she wasn't the Virginia I knew," and the past began to pull at him, she shifted again. This time not for comfort. This time to hold him.

Ala wrapped both arms around Lorn without a word and pulled him fully into her. Her body curved around his like a shield. One hand threaded gently into his hair. The other rested against his back, splayed wide, steady.

She pressed her lips to the space between his brow and his temple, eyes closed.

That was her answer. No apologies. No interruptions. No fear. Just her, silent and warm, holding him like she would never let go.

And then he broke the tension, joking about the grey hairs. "Don't worry. I will remind you about them."

| Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

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Lorn took a slow, steady breath. She curved around him, as if to protect him from his own shadows. Her silence wasn't empty, it was grounding. It gave him permission to stop talking, to simply exist between his ghosts and her warmth. When her lips pressed into his temple, something inside him loosened, a fragile but real release. He hadn't realized how deeply he craved that quiet until she offered it.

His hand slid over her back, broad across her spine, finding an anchor in her touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, forehead resting on her shoulder, breathing her in. "Thank you," he murmured. He tilted his head, brushing his nose against her hair before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes softened in a private way few ever saw.

"I don't... talk about her," he continued. "Not with anyone. Most days, I don't even let myself think about it. But you..." His thumb traced her jaw, slow and gentle. "You listen. To my words, yes, but more importantly, to me."

He just looked at her, taking in her wild curls and the quiet determination in her eyes. The way she held him, as if he truly mattered, made his chest ache with the feeling of being seen and still wanted. His voice dropped low, intimate. "If you ever need to say things you can't speak aloud, if you ever need to set a heavy burden down, I'm here. Always. I want to listen. To everything you carry."

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a gentleness that went against the powerful grip of his arms, which pulled her fully against him. The kiss lingered, unhurried, as if he were memorizing the curve of her mouth, the warmth of her breath. When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far. His forehead rested lightly against hers, his hand slipping into her curls.

"You make it easy to forget the things I've carried," he admitted. "Even the grey hairs."

Ala Quin​