Sitara Qin
One Hot Mess
Coruscant.
The moments that preceded the invasion escaped her. She could remember Ali; Ali’s eyes staring her down, challenging her as they moved through the dark, chaotic halls on Teli. Ali’s fingers reaching for the trigger before firing two rounds into her leg. Ali’s thin body slamming into the cold hard ground as lightning danced through her limbs.
After that, there was only darkness.
And a face reaching out to her.
Sylresh…Geitva?
The old master had dropped down to say “hi” and the two lovely ladies were brought to a medical facility. Sitara’s wounds were tended to, her skin patched up with a large bandage wrapped around her leg. She needed rest, and lots of it.
It had been a week.
The older woman would be bound to the pull-out cot in her cramped, studio apartment. Ali’s hands and feet would be restricted by rope, carefully tied in order to assure Sitara she wouldn’t get away. Coruscant was Sith-ran, and if Sitara were to be a rule-abiding citizen, she would’ve handed Ali over to the people in charge. Her lover as a prisoner of war.
The older woman was still asleep. The sun was rising.
Her bedroom was chaotic; clothes flung in various corners and containers left open while half-eaten amounts of food littered within them were on display on various surfaces. It was truly different from Ali’s humble abode on Kashyyyk, and Sitara realized that they were simply two different people.
Duct-tape covered the older woman’s once rouged lips, and Sitara feared stripping it off of her.
What would she say?
What could she say?
| [member="Ali Hadrix"] |
The moments that preceded the invasion escaped her. She could remember Ali; Ali’s eyes staring her down, challenging her as they moved through the dark, chaotic halls on Teli. Ali’s fingers reaching for the trigger before firing two rounds into her leg. Ali’s thin body slamming into the cold hard ground as lightning danced through her limbs.
After that, there was only darkness.
And a face reaching out to her.
Sylresh…Geitva?
The old master had dropped down to say “hi” and the two lovely ladies were brought to a medical facility. Sitara’s wounds were tended to, her skin patched up with a large bandage wrapped around her leg. She needed rest, and lots of it.
It had been a week.
The older woman would be bound to the pull-out cot in her cramped, studio apartment. Ali’s hands and feet would be restricted by rope, carefully tied in order to assure Sitara she wouldn’t get away. Coruscant was Sith-ran, and if Sitara were to be a rule-abiding citizen, she would’ve handed Ali over to the people in charge. Her lover as a prisoner of war.
The older woman was still asleep. The sun was rising.
Her bedroom was chaotic; clothes flung in various corners and containers left open while half-eaten amounts of food littered within them were on display on various surfaces. It was truly different from Ali’s humble abode on Kashyyyk, and Sitara realized that they were simply two different people.
Duct-tape covered the older woman’s once rouged lips, and Sitara feared stripping it off of her.
What would she say?
What could she say?
| [member="Ali Hadrix"] |