Private Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

[Lorn Reingard]

​

The Naboo lake country shimmered, a vast expanse of green breathing with the gentle sway of its grasses under the late morning sun. A constant, patient murmur of distant waterfalls wove through the air, a natural symphony accompanied by the cheerful chirping of birds and the occasional, low thrum of a repulsorlift from the valley below.

Lorn sat quietly, a solitary figure against the verdant landscape. He wasn't perfectly still even though that wasn't his way, but the gnawing tension in his shoulders had finally begun to ease. His hands lay open on his knees, his gaze closed, his face tilted skyward as if trying to drink in the sunlight.

He used to resent these moments. Meditation. Stillness. It felt like a betrayal, a surrender to inaction when there was always some crisis burning somewhere, demanding his attention.

But here, surrounded by the vibrant landscape of wildflowers, kissed by the breeze, with the low hum of construction droids working diligently behind him, it felt different.

Tucked into the gentle incline of the hill was the nascent shape of a home. Warm stone and polished wood, still rough around the edges, but already alive with the promise of a life he was painstakingly building, brick by brick, for himself and for Isla. He'd been pouring weeks into this place, stealing moments between patrols, between missions, between the endless excuses he'd given himself for not building something real. It wasn't just about shelter, it was about planting roots, about daring to believe that perhaps, this fragile peace could last.

And yet… the image of her was an unshakeable ghost every time his eyes closed. Whether in these quiet moments or in the restless grip of sleep, the vision returned, the one Isla had shared, the one that still refused to make sense.

Ala. Or… Indra. Her face, etched with a profound inner conflict. The sudden, fierce glow of her lightsaber. A fleeting glimpse of sorrow, then betrayal. And then, a searing flash of him, falling.

He hadn't told Ala everything. Not yet. And since "The Final Light," their conversations had been sparse. The galaxy, as it always did, had pulled them in opposing directions, scattering them to new emergencies, to the demands of being Jedi, to the harsh realities of life. It was a struggle to determine which was the heavier burden.

But they had a plan. A quiet, unspoken agreement. Meet here, talk, feel.

So he sat, breathing in rhythm with the whispering grasses, the timeless song of the waterfall, the gentle caress of the wind. He waited for the woman who could embody both the fury of a storm and the serenity of a calm sea, all within a single breath.

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

It was windy.

Ala was cold.

Ala was cold, because Ala was wet.

Because of course she was. Had someone warned her about Lake Country containing lakes, she might not have leaned over too far while trying to get a particularly pretty flower. Had she thought about using the Force? Yes! But relying on the Force too much had royally messed her up in the passed. You just never knew when a Sith was going to murder you and your consciousness would be transferred into a non-Force sensitive body.

Probably not today though.

So, she walked up the hill, her pants wet from the knees down, and her shoes making that lovely squelch with every step. But she had the flower tucked behind her left ear!

As she crested the hill, Ala caught sight of Lorn first. Her heart skipped a beat, and then quickly fell into a rapid thumping beat. Her smile was as broad as a nexu's. How was it that they had barely been near each other since Alassa Major? Did the Force hate her?

No. The Force gave me another chance...with him.

When she saw the house, or what would be a house, she stopped dead in her tracks. Oh. Oooooh. Her smile dissipated. Not because of fear, or sadness, but from expectation.

This was his special place.

"Ooooooooooh," she breathed out.

Why would he invite her here? To show her? To invite her? Ala's presence in the Force flared for a moment, before she reigned it in. Probably too late to hide her emotional state from Lorn though.

"You look so peaceful!" She yelled across to his meditation spot, "shame if someone loud and annoying ruined it for you!"

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Lorn's eyes flickered open, not to the sound of her approach, but to the wild, irrepressible burst that was her presence in the Force. He felt her coming long before the sound of her boots in the grassy path, or the soft crackle of footfalls on dry leaves. Ala. That wild, irrepressible little starburst, flaring through the Force like it had something to prove, brushing against his hard-won calm like a sudden, exhilarating gust through still water. Messy. Bright. Unapologetic. Completely hers.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, an ache of fond resignation he didn't bother to fight. He kept his breathing even, eyes half-lidded, pretending to stay meditative. But then she crested the hill, and the galaxy simply faded. There she was. Dripping wet, mud caked on her pant legs, a single wildflower tucked behind her ear, her hair a charming tangle from the breeze. And smiling like she'd just won a game only she was playing. He was utterly, gloriously, done for.

She stopped, a few paces shy of him, her gaze snagging on the house, his house. He saw the shift, the flicker of awe and a startling vulnerability spread across her face. A swell of questions, of uncertainty, of something bigger she wasn't sure she had permission to feel. And then, predictably, the dam broke.

"You look so peaceful!"

He snorted, shaking his head, already rising. "Too late." He moved slowly, brushing bits of grass from his pants, his gaze never leaving her. He watched her like someone watching the sun crest the horizon, wondering if they were truly allowed to reach for such a magnificent, untamed thing.

"You know," he said, closing the distance between them, "I considered putting up a sign that read, 'Do not disturb. Extremely deep spiritual meditation in progress.'" He tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over her, lingering on her soaked pant legs. "Then I remembered who I invited."

He stopped just inches from her, close enough to see the fine details: the tiny dew drops clinging to her lashes, the slight flush in her cheeks warmed from the climb, the way her eyes held a startled, fragile wonder as she looked at the house, like she'd just walked into someone else's most private memory. His voice softened, barely a whisper. "You okay?" It wasn't about the wet clothes. Not really. It was about the sudden, unguarded vulnerability radiating from her.

And when she didn't answer right away he offered the simplest, most profound thing he had. He reached up, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing the delicate edge of the wildflower tucked behind her ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of her jaw. "I'm glad you came," he murmured, his voice thick with a truth he'd only just acknowledged. "…You wanna see it? The house, or the bones of the house?"

"But maybe…" He glanced down at her boots, caked in mud. "Maybe we shed these first."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

She felt like a porg staring into the sun. Her eyes were big, open just a little to wide, and entirely blinded by his presence. He asked if she was alright. She delayed answering, and was glad for having done so.

The way that Lorn touched her face was enough to make her melt. Her face leaned into his touch, eyes closed, and a long sigh was offered. She loved this.

The word was enough to skip a couple of heartbeats. She found herself releasing the emotional tension with a kiss, awkwardly pressed to his wrist while still leaning into his hand. "More than okay."

She looked down at her boots. "Oh! Yeah. Probably," she said, sheepish shrug leading to cheek parting from his touch.

She was already on the ground before Lorn could suggest more, and tugging off her boots. The second one was a little tougher, leading to a tug, and then another...and then a pleading look up at Lorn. "Muscles...please?" She held leg upwards, muddy knee-high boot half off and dangling from her foot. "Put your back into it, Mr. Lorn."

Lorn Reingard

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Lorn couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled from his chest as Ala practically crash-landed in the grass. Dignity abandoned, she was all chaotic energy as she wrestled with her boots, one already half-off and the other stubbornly clinging, her foot waving in his direction like a muddy distress signal.

He knelt without a word, a grin playing on his lips. The boot remained stubbornly in place. Of course it did. He braced himself and gave a good tug, nothing. He tried again, a little harder, still stuck. The third attempt was a little too enthusiastic. The boot finally surrendered with a wet glorp, sending Lorn tumbling backward onto the grass, a muddy boot waving in his hand and a generous smear of lake-country grime decorating his tunic.

He blinked, stared down at himself, then back up at her. "Victory," he announced, raising the boot like a hard-won trophy. He shook his head, wiped the worst of the mud off with a sigh, and reached out a hand.

"Come on, Swamp Queen," he said, pulling her gently to her feet. With a small, almost proud tilt of his head, he gestured towards the house. "Want to see?"

The house was still a skeleton, but already buzzing with life, wood and stone, clean lines and open spaces. A few droids hummed nearby, one nodding in respectful acknowledgement as they passed, another arguing with a tool rack.

"This'll be the living room," Lorn explained, gesturing to a broad, open space with a panoramic view of the valley. Waterfalls cascaded in the sunlight, tumbling through layers of green, the mist catching the light like spun silver. "Isla picked this window. Said it makes the sky feel bigger."

They continued down a hallway. "That's her room," he added, pausing briefly at a smaller doorway framed with soft curves. "She wants to paint a star map on the ceiling. Asked if you'd help with the 'not boring' parts."

Lorn turned, motioning her towards a wooden staircase, the railing only half-installed. He offered his hand as she stepped up beside him. And at the top, the world opened up. His room faced the lake directly. Wide windows, a small terrace planned for the future. The light bathed everything in gold. It was simple, quiet, peaceful.

"This is..." he began, then cleared his throat. "I mean, this will be..."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim keycard. He held it out to her, his eyes flicking away for a moment, then returning to meet hers.

"You don't have to take it. And I'm not trying to... pressure you, or..."

He stopped, regrouped. "But if you ever want to stay... and visit, stay-stay, even just when everything gets too loud, I want you to know, you are always welcome."

The key lay between them. A symbol. A sliver of something more.

"You always have a door here," he said. "Even if you kick it down."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

If she hadn't been tumbling backwards too, Ala would have been up and over to check on Lorn faster. Instead, she took his hand and bounced up to her feet. For just a moment, she glanced down, wriggled her toes, and wiped her feet across the grass. "There...that's better."

The tour of the house was exciting. She could almost see the building as he explained various aspects of the build. To hear him talk about Isla making decisions for the Reingard homestead was entirely thrilling. "Oh Lorn...this is fantastic...stars above...this is going to be heaven..." She said, eyes wide.

She stepped up to the spot where Isla's sky-window would one day be, and her hands pulled up to her chest, and then to her mouth - suppressing a quite sigh. "Lorn. This is perfect. She is going to be so happy here." She looked back to Lorn, eyes aglow with joy for the reunited family, all thought of her having any part in this had rolled away. She was simply happy for them.

"I will paint the not-boring parts...if she let's me help with the boring parts too," she said, trying to hold back the happy tears that she felt were ready to flow. It barely worked. So her only alternative was to quickly run into Lorn's arms, and bury her face his chest. His shirt could mop up her tears, and save her from the embarrassment.

She had been the little girl that just wanted a daddy. And Lorn was being that for his daughter. It was everything. Ala was proud, relieved, jealous and grateful. Good could come from even trying circumstances.

"OK. OK. OK. Show me upstairs..."

She tugged on his shirt and wiped her tears away quickly, but her eyes were still red. There was no hiding the truth. But she smiled nonetheless, just a little smile to say, I am not sad.

Once upstairs, she felt her jaw grow slack. Her hand slipped from Lorn's as she stepped to the frame of the wall. The view was astounding. It was Naboo, but at an angle she had not seen before. When she turned around, Lorn was holding a keycard.

He was stuttering.

He looked nervous.

Ala's eyes glanced at his, and then back to the keycard, and then back to his eyes.

"Oh, my god."

Stay-stay.

"Why?"

She shook her head, sending her mass of curls into a frizz.

"No...not why..."

She was covering her face with her hands. Speaking in muffled words. Her heart seemed to have both slowed completely, while having more thud than normal. She could feel it in her ears.

"Lorn. I..."

She felt rushed. And rushing was something she had promised she would not do again. Not after Kaila. Alassa Major had been a revelation. Her heart was open to Lorn. And she loved Isla so very much.

She blinked. Thoughts of Lorn walking away flooded her mind. It hollowed her out, made her feel empty and devoid of purpose.

He isn't ask you to marry him.

But it was a step into the committed. Of that there was no doubt. But she was committed? Wasn't she? She was committed to Isla, without reservation. And Lorn, she adored him...probably more than that if she were brave enough.

She didn't want him to think he as being rejected. So she stepped close to him. Her hand covered his. Her other hand took hold of his tear soaked shirt and pulled him down. The kiss was intentional. Definitive. Prolonged.

As she kissed him, Ala folded his hand closed over the keycard.

This kiss broke. And Ala found herself instinctively smacking her lips together, savouring the lingering feeling.

"You and Isla need time first, Lorn. Be a family. I'm not going anywhere, but she will not be a child forever."

Her eyes rose to meet his. While a subtle pleading, or a soft longing might have been expected, her eyes burned with a fierce mischief.

"I could stay tonight though?"

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

The kiss hit Lorn first, a soft, certain shock that bypassed thought entirely. Not just Ala's lips, the quiet slide of her fingers against his, folding his hand over something small and cool. What did it mean? He didn't know. Not really. Only that she'd kissed him like she meant to leave a mark, and he was still holding on when she finally pulled back.

She was breathless, eyes wide and sparkling, a dare and a promise dancing in their depths. "I could stay tonight though?"

The question hung between them, a live wire humming with unspoken possibility. Lorn stared, frozen in the sudden quiet, before a slow, crooked smile edged onto his face. He hadn't moved, hadn't released her.

"…Relax, Miss Quin," he murmured, voice warm and low, laced with a laugh. "I'm not asking you to move in and live happily ever after." He paused, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes. "…Yet."

His own hands stayed at her waist a beat longer than necessary, then slowly, reluctantly, he reached between them. He gently uncurled her fingers, revealing the small, cool rectangle of the keycard nestled in his palm, still warm from her touch.

"I don't expect anything," he said, his voice dropping. "You could never come here again and I would understand. This isn't about that. Not really."

He took her hand, gentle, almost reverent, and eased the card back into her palm, carefully curling her fingers around it. "You're the person I trust most," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "So if something goes wrong, I need you to be able to get here. No locked doors. No permissions. No waiting."

His throat tightened, words catching like barbed wire. For a stretched second, the familiar, suffocating silence of his past tried to reclaim him. The part of him forged by war, by betrayal, by loss, screamed to armor up, to shut down, to play it cool. But he couldn't. Not with Ala, not here, not after the way her lips had just redefined his world.

"If you want to pop by and visit… great," he pushed on, the words fumbling out, sincerity a live grenade he was trying to defuse with shaky hands. "If you need to get away for a few days… it's available. Yours. If you want to, I don't know, stay-stay for a bit, when it's not overwhelming... I can make myself scarce and let you have time with Isla, i'm sure she would love that."

He stopped abruptly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He met her gaze, really saw her, the curiosity, the faint hint of a smile at his struggle. "Shiraya," he blurted, a raw note in his voice, "I'm bad at this." He let out a single, sharp laugh, devoid of humor, solely exasperation with himself.

"I'm good at standing my ground and pretending nothing hurts. I'm terrible at…" He gestured vaguely, encompassing the key, her, the space humming between them. "This. "

There was a loaded pause. Then, quieter, almost a confession: "But I know I don't want to lose it. You."

He looked down, shaking his head once. "I wish I grew up somewhere normal. Where gestures like this didn't come out sounding like some kind of tactical engagement."

His eyes lifted again, steady and soft, pouring all the unsaid into their gaze. "All I meant was... I want you to know there's a place here for you. Always. When you want it. How you want it." He offered a small, sheepish smile. "And if that's tonight… then I'll shut up before I make even more of a mess and scare you off entirely."

He gave a soft tug, drawing her back into his arms. This time, the embrace was less about a kiss, more about a quiet presence, no possessiveness, no desperate plea, just a deep, anchoring hold. She smelled like lake water and wildflowers and stars, and in that moment, he knew he never wanted to let go.

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

She had read too much into the situation. She had jumped too far ahead. Ala turned as red as her newly acquired Order of Shiraya garb. Why did she do this? Maybe it wasn't a romantic gesture. Maybe it was just practicality. But damn it, she was already too far in..

It left her. Not upset. Not angry. Not even sad. Just confused.

"Oh. Sure. I can take it and...keep and eye on things," she said, while snaffling the keycard from him and then playing with it nervously.

She searched his eyes, trying to understand what he meant, and her confusion became utter perplexity when he used the term stay-stay. "Whoa. LORN. Do you and I mean the same thing when we say stay-stay? Because my preference is that Isla is not here...or that she has at least been asleep long enough...or something..."

She was flustered now. Derailed by his inability to articulate his feelings. She spun about with a dramatic flourish of her arms, and looked out what would be the windows some day. It was a glorious view.

"You can't lose me, Lorn. But you can sure confuse me. I’m here throwing myself at you, and you’re talking about practicalities like you’re afraid I’ll bolt. It’s not the key that’s throwing me. It’s the caution."

She turned back, arms this time slapping against her legs. It was a sign of exasperation.

"I want you, Lorn. In every way that means. I am just standing here...hoping...beyond hope...that you do not think...that when I say stay-stay...I mean hanging out with your kid."

She sighed. Her had coming to her head.

"I love Isla. And..."

Did she just have to say it? Is that would make him act? Make him cross that line? Did she have to be the bold one?

"...Lorn...I..."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Lorn froze. It was the kind of freeze you felt when the floor gave out beneath you, breath still caught from that last step, unsure if falling would feel worse than hoping again. Ala's words had hit him hard, not cruelly, not even angrily, just with raw truth. And truth, he'd learned, had always been his least favorite blade.

She'd laid it all bare. She said she wanted him, but also that he was confusing. Most painfully, she'd told him that "stay-stay" wasn't some sweet, innocent invitation for bonding nights with his daughter, a simple spare blanket folded at the edge of the couch. She was here, her heart cracking open, waiting, begging in her way, for him to do the same. All he'd done so far was talk like a tactician, hand her a key like a backup plan, as if he were utterly terrified she'd vanish if he dared to ask for more than just a possibility. He was scared.

"I…" he started, and the sound of it made him cringe. His voice didn't just crack; it crumpled. "I'm not good at this." He ran a hand through his hair again, hard. He couldn't bring himself to look at her yet, not until he got his racing chest under control, not until he remembered how to speak without bracing for impact. "I didn't mean to make it sound like a checklist," he managed, "like I was inviting you to a housewarming party with assigned emotional seating." His laugh was dry, helpless, shaky. "But I don't know how to do this. Not the right way."

He looked at her then, and the weight in his eyes wasn't confusion at all. It was care. Crippling, quiet, unspeakable care. "I want you. I love you," he confessed, his voice dropping, rough now, full of things he'd buried under years of war and restraint. "I've been walking this tightrope ever since we met because I don't want to step too fast and push you over the edge of your own pain. You've been through so much. And I'm terrified that if I reach too far, if I want you too much, I'll scare you away. And that'll be it. Another silence I have to live with."

He stepped closer, not rushed, just close enough that the air between them shifted. "But I am trying," he continued. "Trying to find the right words. To let you breathe. To not hand you everything I'm feeling all at once and demand you carry it." His hand lifted to her cheek, brushing her curls back, his fingers trembling despite the steadiness in his jaw. "I just want you to know that when I say stay-stay, I'm not asking you to build a life on command. I'm saying the door's open, the light's on, and I want you here, not just for tonight, but for all the tomorrows we don't know how to plan yet."

His eyes closed for a moment as he rested his forehead against hers. A sigh escaped him: not relief, not pain, but a profound release. "And maybe I'll get better at this," he murmured, his fingers interlacing with hers. "Or maybe I'll always stumble through it. But if I'm going to learn how to love again… it's going to be with you. Only you."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

She was listening right up until he said those words. Those big. Massive. All encompassing, three words. He said them without batting an eye. without hesitation. He said them like it was natural, and it left Ala's mind swirling. She didn't hear anything else that he said.

Her heart thumped in her chest.

Her ears rung with the pressure.

She was supposed to go slow. But her heart was leaping out of her chest. Going slow was not a character trait she possessed.

"You...love...me?" Ala said, tone soft, almost a whimper.

Of course he did. She felt in the way he held her. She felt it in the way he restrained himself. She knew it already, but hearing him say those all-powerful words, well, they were her weakness.

"Only...me?" She said, repeating the words he said last, just to make sure she was coming back to reality.

"Lorn...I...love...so easily...I know it is my greatest strength, but also my greatest weakness," she said, words falling out before she could rein them in.

"You are everything I want in life. Please. Understand this..."

Because what I say next might seem like I don't feel the same way.

One hand came to her lips, pinching at them to prevent her from speaking, while the other rested on his chest, just over his thumping heart. She closed her eyes.

"I want to say it back. Force, I do. But I promised myself… the next time I say it, it’ll be the last. It has to be forever. I can’t survive losing that again."

Kaila.

She pulled the keycard to her chest, nestling it against her like a lifeline. "You say you love me. But do you, really? I’m still a mess… so scatterbrained, too much, and... me."

Tears welled up. Hoping he could understand the mess of emotions she was pouring out.

"Force. I don't know how to say this without putting pressure on you...just tell me to leave...to walk away...and your life could be so much easier," she said, starting to get too flustered and caught in her emotions.

"Are we saying the same thing, Lorn? Because what I mean is commitment. What do you mean?"

Her eyes flowed now, seeking in his some confidence that he meant what she meant, and that he did not drop those sacred words easily.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn flinched, a visible tremor, at her words. This wasn't anger he felt, but a deep, visceral ache. The way she uttered, "just tell me to leave," sounded like a plea for mercy, as if she truly believed the galaxy would be easier to navigate without her in it. He knew better. She already carried most of his light.

He took a small step back from her, only to truly look at her, his eyes locking onto hers as if memorizing the delicate map of her face before the approaching storm. He didn't speak immediately. His jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling, a shuddering breath caught between clenched teeth, like he was holding back an avalanche. Then he spoke.

"No."

Just one word. Firm. Unapologetic. Final in a way that gave her no room to question.

"No," he repeated, louder now, stepping back toward her. His voice trembled, not with uncertainty, but with the desperate restraint of a man who had finally had enough of tiptoeing through love like it was a minefield. "You don't get to stand there and talk like you're a burden, like walking away would make my life easier." His hands clenched at his sides, aching to reach for her, yet too afraid one wrong move might make her bolt. "I'm not here for an easy life, Ala. That ship sailed long ago." He took a slow, pained breath, trying to wrestle back some control, but it was too late for that. The dam had broken.

"I said I love you," he continued, quieter now, but no less intense. "And I meant every word. I love you when you're laughing, when you're crying, when you're too much, and even more when you think you're not enough. I love the way you care too fast and hurt too deep and run headfirst into chaos because someone has to protect the heart of the galaxy and you've never figured out how not to volunteer." He closed the final space between them and rested his hands on her arms. Not to hold her, not yet, but to offer himself as something to be held onto if she needed it. "You're the light in all this noise. You shine in places I've only ever seen darkness. You remind me who I am when the galaxy keeps trying to make me forget." His voice caught, a raw edge of vulnerability exposed. "All I want, all I think about, is being near you. With you. For you. I want to make you caf in the morning and have your back in some war zone and bicker over how many throw pillows a couch needs. I want you in the quiet, in the chaos, in whatever time we get."

He swallowed hard. "I never said those words lightly. And I'm not asking you to say them back if you're not ready. But I am telling you what I mean." His hands now moved slowly, deliberately, one to her cheek, the other cradling the keycard still clutched to her chest. "When I say 'I love you,' I don't mean I love this moment or this month or until the next storm pulls us apart. I mean I love you. And if you would let me, I want that to mean every day from now until the Force takes me."

A long pause stretched between them. Then, his voice softened, lowering almost to a whisper. "But if that's not what you want, if you don't want me, then, Ala, please, tell me now. Because I can't keep chasing maybes. I can't keep torturing myself, wondering if you'll vanish if I get too close. If I push too far. Just tell me." His voice broke finally, a quiet, ragged sound. "Break my heart, if you have to. But don't leave me bleeding."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala didn’t speak right away.

Instead, her hand reached out slowly, uncertain only for a breath, before closing gently around Lorn’s. She brought it to her chest, just over where her heart thundered beneath layers of too much feeling. Her fingers slid between his, lacing tight.

And then, with that same quiet care, she guided his hand to her lips.

She kissed his knuckles once…twice and then didn’t let go.

"I promise I won’t run," she said softly, eyes never leaving his. “I promise I will be here for Isla. I promise I will be here for you. And I promise... I’ll never let you doubt again how much you mean to me."

Her grip shifted, pulling him closer. And then, without any more hesitation, she kissed him.

It was not a playful peck or a moment stolen, it was full and warm and rooted in something long buried that had finally bloomed. A kiss that whispered every answer her fear had tried to silence.

She broke the kiss, but only barely. Her breath hovered at his lips, her hands trembling faintly where they rested against his chest. For a heartbeat, she didn't speak. The words sat behind her teeth like a tidal wave held back by nothing but fear. But then, softly, shakily, she let them fall. "I love you."


The words trembled out. And the moment they passed her lips, the dam broke. Her arms wrapped around him with sudden urgency, fierce and tender all at once, pulling him into her completely. No more barriers. No more hesitation. Just the truth between them, radiant and real.

Her smile was crooked when it came, but it sparkled through teary lashes and flushed cheeks. Her voice dropped to a sultry murmur, close and hungry. "Promise you won't let go of me tonight.”

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn held his breath. It wasn't just for a moment; a lifetime seemed to pass as her hand sought his, pressing it against the frantic rhythm of her own heart, a beat that answered every unspoken question in his soul. Her fingers wove through his, a familiar anchor against the storm inside him, grounding him. Even as she whispered her promises, soft as a sigh, one by one, each word echoed through the hidden scars he carried, gently filling hollow places he'd thought would forever remain empty.

But then she truly kissed him, and that was when Lorn finally broke. There was no flinch, no tremor of hesitation. Only movement. All the careful restraint, the years of held-back emotion, all the tight knots he'd tied around his feelings, snapped loose in a single, freeing breath. His arms slid around her, strong and suddenly unshakable, pulling her close as if he feared the galaxy might try to claim her again, and he had no intention whatsoever of letting go.

The bare inch she pulled back, just enough to whisper "I love you," sent a fresh catch to his throat, but this time it was pure joy. Undeniable. Shattering. He didn't speak immediately. He didn't have to. His answer was another kiss, fierce yet slow, pouring out everything he hadn't known how to say. One hand found the small of her back, the other threaded through the nape of her hair, memorizing every curve, every strand. When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling, time itself seemingly slowed to a crawl.

"I won't let go," he whispered, his lips brushing hers with each word. "Not tonight. Not ever." He drew her fully into his embrace, holding her as if she were both his gravity and his sanctuary. The outside world faded: the distant murmur of the waterfall, the faint clanking of droids below, the endless, golden expanse of Naboo stretching beyond the windows. None of it mattered. The only reality was the warmth of her in his arms, the rhythmic beat of two hearts that had finally found their way home to each other.

He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then the curve of her jaw, a slow, reverent path. A quiet, breathless laugh, full of simple awe and utterly full of her, hummed against her skin. "Stay," he said, his voice low and warm. "Stay with me tonight." Lorn, for the first time in years, his thoughts didn't drift to his pain. He only thought of her.

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

She giggled. And then stifled the laugh. The way he held her felt so final, and wholesome. After all this time of looking for her people, of looking for her home, she had found it in Lorn's arms. Even if she had to be on her tip toes to maintain it.

His forehead rested against hers. It was only now that she understood...he had finally relaxed. The tension seemed to roll off of him, and into her lingering embrace. He was a gift. All she wished was to be the same for him.

"Never?" She whispered to his promises. Lips barely parting in expectation of another delightfully scratchy kiss from the man she loved.

She loved him. The thought, as if fresh in the moment, caused her to gasp another laugh. There was no mocking in the laugh, only a giddy thrill.

She angled her neck just so, granting him permission by invitation. His affection brought a continued smile that was already hurting her cheeks. They could hurt damn them, she was going to enjoy this.

Her fingers had wrapped around his shirt, and tugged him forward as she stepped back into the only shadows nearby. Her back found a wall. She looked up through curls that framed her face. Her eyes spoke every word, every hope and every dream fulfilled. Her eyes had always sparkled, but one of those stars now shimmered just for him.

"Stay-stay."

— ᴏʙsᴄᴜʀᴜᴍ —

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn didn't answer her whispered "Never?" with words; he didn't need to. A raw, boyish smile broke across his face, as if she'd just handed him the entire galaxy wrapped in starlight. Her tiny, startled laugh, giddy and bright like fire through frost, only solidified his surrender.

She tilted her head, a silent offering, a welcomed dare. Lorn, already completely undone, leaned into it.

He kissed her again, slow, deep, reverent, the kind of kiss that answered every question she hadn't even asked yet. As she tugged his shirt and pulled him toward the wall, pressing her back into the shadowed frame of what would one day be their room, he smiled against her mouth. His hand braced the wall beside her head, the other resting lightly on her waist. When she whispered "Stay," with that glint in her eye, that curl of her lips, that quiet invitation in every breath, he didn't hesitate.

The droids below worked tirelessly through the evening, but upstairs, the world quieted completely. The future crept in, slow, warm, and utterly real. The Jedi who had once prepared for a life of solitude simply stayed.

The Next Morning

Sunlight, warm and golden, poured through the skeletal beams of the house. The Naboo breeze fluttered lazily through the open terrace, carrying the soft sound of birdsong and the faint burble of the distant waterfall. Lorn had ensured the construction droids wouldn't start until noon.

He stood barefoot in the half-finished kitchen, shirtless, a mug of caf in hand. His hair remained sleep-tousled, a towel tossed over his shoulder from a quick rinse at the outdoor utility spigot. The makeshift stove hummed beside him, an uneven rhythm mirroring the quiet flicker of thoughts in his head. Upstairs, Ala was still curled in the blankets layered over the padded ground. The room had no furniture yet, just beams, sky, and the silent presence of each other. He wouldn't disturb her, not yet.

So he moved quietly, preparing toast, a small plate of sliced fruit, and Naboo-style tea with the honey she liked.

A few minutes later, Lorn knelt beside her, gently placing the tray at her side. He didn't wake her immediately, choosing instead to simply look at this wild, stubborn, radiant woman who had somehow unraveled him and stitched him back together all in the same breath.

His fingers brushed a curl from her forehead. "Morning," he murmured softly, barely loud enough to stir the dream she was tucked into. "I brought breakfast."

Ala Quin​

 

[Ala Quin]

The scent of caf reached her first. Then the soft creak of wood, the tender rustle of Lorn’s breath as he knelt beside her. Ala stirred slowly, her eyes still closed, lips brushing against the edge of a smile as sunlight warmed her face.

She didn’t open her eyes right away. Instead, she listened, to the birdsong outside, to the hush of the breeze across the unfinished walls, and to the steady heartbeat of the man she somehow, miraculously, got to wake up near.

Her voice came soft, hoarse with sleep and thick with something heavier. “You brought me breakfast…”

She finally blinked her eyes open and looked up at him. Tousled hair, bare chest, towel slung over a shoulder, caf in hand like some kind of daydream. It was all too much. And just right.

Ala reached up slowly, tracing his jaw with the backs of her fingers.

“This feels… like peace,” she whispered, “I don’t remember the last time I felt this.”

Her fingers slid down to rest over his heart.

“I’m still...a bit...scared, Lorn. Of how much this matters. Of how much you matter. But waking up here, with you…I think I could get used to it.”

She sat up, wrapping herself lazily in the blanket, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not just for the tea. Not just for the morning. For all of it. “I am a big fan of this stay-stay business.”

| Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn watched her wake like it was something sacred. Every detail, from the flutter of her lashes against her cheeks to the soft, sleepy crack of her voice, the way she reached for him like pure instinct, not effort, simply undid him all over again.

When she whispered, "this feels like peace," his chest tightened until he thought he might shatter. Lorn had fought wars and stared down darkness so thick it swallowed sound. Yet nothing had ever made him feel as vulnerable as hearing that. Because for the first time, he believed it.

"This is peace," he said softly. "Or… the closest I've ever gotten to it." Her fingers rested over his heart, and his hand moved to cover hers without thinking, their palms pressed together in the warmth between them. When she kissed his shoulder and playfully called herself a "fan of stay-stay," like it was a private joke she never wanted to stop telling, he finally smiled. A real one. Slow. Soft. Like something healing.

He turned slightly, catching her gaze with the steady weight of his own. "Then keep doing it," he said simply, as if that solved everything. "Stay." It wasn't a plea or a question, just a quiet, hopeful statement. His hand slid up to cradle her cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her, not with the rush or desperation of last night, but slow and certain, like something that belonged to the morning. Like breathing. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, letting their breaths mix.

"You matter to me too much," he admitted softly. "And I'm scared too." He paused for a beat. "But if being scared is the price for this," his lips curved faintly, "I'll pay it." The quiet stretched between them, easy now.

"Eat your breakfast," he murmured, kissing her temple before settling down beside her with his caf, content just to sit, just to be. "Long day of not letting you leave ahead of me."

Ala Quin​