Private Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

[Lorn Reingard]

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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

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[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​