Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber,
Bracelet,
Earrings
Companion: Isari
Tag:
Tigris Aphra
The kiss lingered like a slow breath between them. Gentle, reverent. A promise whispered through touch rather than words. And then—
The words struck her like sunlight through clouds—unexpected, all-encompassing. It was, far from the first time Tigris had said them. But here, in the open fields of her childhood, with the breeze playing in her robes and the grass swaying like a sea around them, it felt different. Bigger. Heavier. It didn’t just land in her chest—it bloomed there, sudden and all-consuming.
Eve stared at her, stunned into stillness. That look in Tigris’ eyes — fierce, unflinching, as if the Force itself had rooted her to the moment — was almost too much to bear. It was the kind of gaze that saw her. Not the Jedi. Not the wounded girl. Not the survivor. Her. Entirely.
It took her breath away.
A sound left her lips, half a sigh, half a soft laugh of disbelief. Then she reached forward, her hands rising to cradle Tigris’ face, gently cupping those beautiful, storm-weathered cheeks. She kissed her again, slow this time, sweet and searching. Not to return what was given, but to soak it in. The press of lips to lips, the quiet warmth that passed between them—it was all the answer she needed.
When they parted, Eve stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against Tigris’. Her thumb brushed the edge of her jaw, the moment heavy with tenderness.
"I love you too," she said, voice barely above a whisper, but rich with truth.
"So much."
They stayed like that for a while, eyes locked, the rest of the world falling away. There was nothing performative in it. No urgency. Just the simple stillness of two souls who had chosen each other, again and again.
Eventually, the breeze swept through Eve’s hair again, and she smiled.
Her voice came soft, content, as she finally spoke the word that would guide them forward.
"Ready?"
They reached the top of the slope just as the wind shifted, brushing gently against Eve’s cheeks, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed linen. Below, nestled between the silver-grassed hills and the edge of the wooded rise, the Vale
homestead came into view.
The same as it was always was.
The low walls, the curved roof half-covered in flowering vines, the modest garden along the edge all exactly as Eve remembered it. And in the golden light of early afternoon, standing just outside the house, was a figure she knew deeper than memory.
Mariana Vale.
She was hanging linens from a wooden line, her hands moving with practiced grace, her long pale hair tied back with a simple ribbon. And as if guided by some invisible thread, she paused mid-motion, head turning, gaze lifting toward the ridge above.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Eve grinned instinctively, something like laughter catching in her throat, but beneath the joy was something more complex, an ache that bloomed as her mother’s expression shifted. She could feel it through the Force before she even saw it: the way Mariana’s heart leapt, full of love and relief, but also how it faltered.
Her eyes had landed on the eyepatch.
The reunion was not like the one with Valery—eager and bright and full of innocence. This one was quieter. Heavier.
Together, she and Tigris began descending the slope. Isari trotted ahead with a little chirp of joy, silver tail flicking. Eve kept her hand in Tigris’ the whole way down, her grip firm but slightly trembling.
When they reached the garden gate, Mariana was already walking toward her. No words at first. Just open arms. Eve stepped into them, and the embrace swallowed her whole. She pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder, holding her tightly, breathing in the scent of herbs and home and sun. Mariana then pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her daughter.
A silent tear had escaped her.
Eve brought her hands up to cup her mother’s face, gently pressing her forehead to hers, voice barely audible.
"I promise I’m okay."
Then, delicately, she wiped the tear away with her thumb.
And Mariana — steady, strong Mariana — searched her with her eyes, as if trying to see beneath the surface. What she found there must have surprised her. Not just pain. Not just recovery. But strength.
"You’ve somehow... grown even more," she said softly.
Eve smiled. Just a little.
Then she turned slightly, still holding her mother’s hand, and reached back with her other to take Tigris’. Her voice faltered for half a second, but then it found its place.
"Mama," she said, eyes flicking between them.
"This is... This is my girlfriend. Tigris."
Mariana looked at the young woman beside her daughter. For a moment, her gaze simply lingered, taking in the tattoos, the steel, the presence of someone who had clearly lived her own storms.
And then she stepped forward.
She took Tigris’ hand gently, then wrapped her into a brief but sincere hug. A warmth that was quiet but unmistakable.
"Thank you," she said, voice soft but steady.
"For taking good care of my girl."
She drew back, smiling now. Truly smiling.
"Welcome to our home, Tigris."
Eve bit her lip at the sight of it all, overwhelmed at the collision of her two universes. As the moment softened, a silver blur darted in between them.
Isari, tail high and ears perked, trotted right up to Mariana and let out a short, chirping trill,almost like greeting an old friend. The older woman blinked in surprise, then laughed, brushing her hands down to her knees and reaching out with practiced ease.
"There you are," she murmured as her fingers slid through the fox’s fur.
"You’re even more beautiful than she described."
Isari nuzzled her palm, clearly pleased.
Eve watched them, her heart full, her fingers still curled with Tigris’ in her own. For a brief moment — just one — they were all still, touched by sunlight, wrapped in the quiet joy of coming home. Mariana raised her head to them and smiled.
"Shall we go inside?"
