Private Where Shadows Learn to Linger

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren felt it immediately.

Not the withdrawal of his body, but the shift behind it—the way his presence tightened inward, the way his attention was yanked somewhere sharp and unwelcome. It was not doubt. It was an interruption. A foreign pressure threading through him that did not belong to the moment they had been building.

Her fingers did not loosen from his at first. Instead, she followed the break in him the way she had learned to follow fractures in ruins and minds alike, tracing the sudden tension back to its source.

Ignati.

She did not hear the voice, but she recognized the effect. The way Varin's shoulders locked. The way his breath changed. The way something intrusive curled around his intent and pulled.

When he stepped back, apologizing, the space he created was carefully controlled but unnecessary.

Seren did not allow it to stand. She stepped forward instead.

One hand rose, gentle but certain, fingers settling against his chest as if to anchor him back into his own body. The other remained entwined with his, grounding, steady. Her gaze lifted to his face, golden eyes searching his with quiet clarity.

"You didn't lose your footing," she said softly. "Something pushed you." Her thumb brushed once against his knuckles, reassurance rather than restraint. "You don't need to retreat every time it does."

Then, before he could overthink it, before Ignati could intrude again, Seren closed the remaining distance herself. The kiss was not hurried, nor demanding. It was deliberate. Brief, but real. A grounding touch meant to remind him where he was, not where he was being pulled. Warmth met warmth, intention unclouded by hunger or fear. When she pulled back, it was only far enough to rest her forehead lightly against his, her breath calm against his skin.

"For moments like this," she murmured, "you should learn how to close the door." Her voice remained gentle, unaccusatory. "Not forever. That would drain you. And you will need him—unfortunately." A faint hint of dry humor touched her tone. "But you do not need to grant him access to every thought, every impulse."

She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes again, hands still holding his, not relinquishing the connection. "I can help you learn how to do that," Seren added quietly. "How to choose when you listen. When you allow him in. And when you do not."

Her expression softened, something warm and patient beneath the composed exterior. "You were present," she said. "That matters." And this time, she did not step away.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

She pursued where he retreated, placing her hand on his chest where no doubt she could feel his elevated pulse. He froze again, torn from pushing further or from retreating further, until his freehand came up to meet hers on his chest. The heat from his body was still warm, but there was a comfort in the air as she spoke. He could not find words to return. Before he could she…

His eyes widened his hand gripped a bit tighter, his back straightened. Before his body relaxed into the kiss. His eyes closed as he leaned his forehead on hers. The moment was brief, and truth be told he wanted it to last a bit longer. She spoke only to him and not the walls nor the halls of the temple, spoke of a way to block Ignati in times he needed quiet and peace for a moment. He nodded quietly as he let out a soft chuckle at her humorous remark.

He looked back in her eyes again, feeling unguarded yet open for it.

“Being able to have that freedom.”

He took a deep sigh as his voice was just above a whisper.

“It almost sounded impossible a year ago.”

He gently picked her hand from his chest and softly kissed her knuckles, almost instinctually rather than full of intent. His bangs shifted as he looked down at her, falling over the sides of his face as he looked into her eyes, truly looking into her eyes.

“I want that, almost more than anything.”

His hand came up and gently rested his thumb on her cheek bone. For but a moment, he felt like his head was normal, and that everything that once was spinning in a chaotic maelstrom of emotions became clarity. Something he felt the Sith nor the Jedi would ever comprehend or teach.

His gaze stayed with hers for that moment, longer than any moment he had stared before. As if reading her and understanding her.

“I would love to learn that.”

He spoke quietly as his hand shook in hers.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not pull away from the moment he offered her.

If anything, she steadied it.

Her breath slowed deliberately, matching his rather than racing it, and she let the silence stretch just long enough for his words to settle between them without pressure. His desire was not reckless. It was careful. That mattered.

Her hand remained in his as his thumb brushed her cheekbone, and she turned her face into the touch slightly, not to escalate, but to anchor. Golden eyes searched his, reading not hunger but resolve, the kind that only comes after restraint has already been tested.

"Then we will treat it like any other discipline," she said quietly. Her voice was calm, grounded, unromantic in tone but intimate in intent. "Not something you force. Not something you deny. Something you practice."

Her other hand lifted, resting lightly over his wrist where it trembled, not to still it, but to acknowledge it.

"Ignati does not need to be silenced," Seren continued. "He needs boundaries. There is a difference. You will learn how to narrow your awareness. How to let his presence remain without letting his voice intrude. It will feel like standing in a storm without turning to face the wind."

She leaned in just enough that their foreheads brushed again, briefly, deliberately.

"It will cost you focus," she added. "And energy. Which is why it should be used sparingly. For moments that matter." A pause. "Like this one."

Her thumb traced a slow, grounding line along his knuckles, reassuring rather than possessive.

"You are not weak for wanting quiet," Seren said softly. "And you are not failing because someone else shares your mind. What matters is that you choose when to listen."

She eased back just enough to meet his gaze fully again, her expression warm but composed, not retreating, not pressing.

"We can begin when you're ready," she finished. "And until then…you are allowed to have moments that belong only to you."

Her hand stayed in his. Not as a promise. As a decision.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He watched her as she spoke, taking in every word.

“It seems to most that wanting some form of quiet headspace can cause weakness. Especially Sith.”

He looked down at their hands.

“On my home planet we were taught that noise was a part of life. Never run from it, and never want quiet. It makes you susceptible”

He paused to take a slow breath.

“I learned then that they wanted mindless soldiers, they were afraid of individuality and thinking. My father caught that and ended it. Obedience is but just a step in soldier-hood but it does not make good soldiers.”

His eyes met hers again, staring deeply.

“I think I have been ready to learn that control for a while now, but I wanted noise to ignore it. I felt that if I stood I could bear it longer. And if I could bear it for this long then what's a little longer."

His eye trailed to the crack in the floor.

“Thats a dangerous slope to ride.”

He fell quiet again as if in deep thought.

“Sometimes he does make distance and I don’t hear from him for a couple of days. But it's on his terms. His boundaries. I would like to have mine as well, especially when I have company.”

He gave her a soft smile, before he heard soft metallic footsteps approaching.

“Master Varin I-”

CC paused as he realised the moment he had walked into and blinked a few times.

“Master Varin? Are you-? Oh, apologies, I will return later.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not turn at first when the metallic footsteps announced themselves. She felt the interruption before it happened, the subtle fracture in the stillness they had been building together. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Varin's hand, not in alarm, but in irritation held carefully in check.

Her gaze shifted to CC at last, golden eyes cool and assessing. There was a flicker of shadow along the walls at her back, a reflexive response rather than a threat, shapes deepening and stretching as if the temple itself bristled at being disturbed. For a heartbeat, the air felt sharper.

Then she exhaled.

The shadows eased. They did not vanish, but they returned to their natural places, pooling where light could not quite reach, no longer pressed forward by her attention. Seren's posture remained composed, but the annoyance had been there, and she did not pretend otherwise.

"You are doing your job," she said at last, her voice even, controlled, though not warm. "And I would rather know than guess."

She released Varin's hand gently, not pulling away so much as letting the moment breathe, and turned her body slightly toward the droid.

"Is there anything wrong with my ship, CC?" Seren asked. "Any signs of tampering, damage, or approach while we were inside?"

Only then did she glance back toward Varin, her expression softening again, the earlier tension already folding back into focus.

"Boundaries," she added quietly, more to him than to the droid. "Are not a rejection of strength. They are how you decide where your strength is spent."

Her attention returned to CC, patient now, the temple settled once more around them, waiting.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

CC’s interruption caught Varin by surprise. His head slowly turning towards him to look at him. He felt her tighten her grip, watched the shadows flex around her. Her hand released and he turned his body to face CC. He was silent.

“I just finished running diagnostics, Lady Seren, and the ship seems perfectly fine. No damages, no outside tracking besides your nav computer.”

Varin stepped closer to him, gently placing his hand on CC’s shoulder.

“Thank you, CC.”

CC gave Varin and Seren a bow.

“Of course Sir, Maddam. I do apologize for intruding. I will be more vigilant next time.”

CC made his way deeper into the temple, the steps echoing off the walls as the torches seemed to follow his movements as well.

Varin looked back at Seren and approached again.

“Hopefully that did not spoil the night.” A soft chuckle left his lips.

Her last statement had processed in his head as the interaction played on before him.

“I agree with what you said on boundaries. But it seems I have placed many boundaries where they are not needed and am lacking where they are needed.”

He stopped just in front of her, Sinew let out a soft yawn as she relaxed on the bed, the hearth still humming and presenting heat.

“What if I further make that mistake?”

Seren Gwyn
​

 

[Shade]

Ignore

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not answer him right away.

She allowed the quiet to settle back into place first, the way the temple always seemed to reclaim itself after an interruption. The torches steadied along the walls, their flames no longer restless. Sinew shifted once near the hearth, then stilled again, the sound of her breathing grounding the space with something unmistakably alive. Even the fissure in the stone floor seemed to exhale more slowly now, the smoke thinning into a patient, almost contemplative curl.

When Seren stepped closer, it was without hurry and without hesitation. She did not reach for his hand again, nor did she put distance between them. She chose a closeness that did not demand, a proximity that let him stay where he was without retreat, instinctive enough to feel her presence, yet far enough that it remained a choice rather than a reflex.

"You will," she said quietly at last.

The words were not sharp. They were not softened either. Simply honest, offered without judgment or expectation.

"Everyone does."

Her gaze stayed with his, steady and unflinching, but there was no condemnation there—only understanding, shaped by experience rather than doctrine.

"Boundaries are rarely placed the first time correctly," Seren continued, her voice calm and measured. "They are not constructed like walls. They are discovered slowly, through pressure, through discomfort, through moments where something feels wrong long before you can explain why."

She lifted one hand slightly, not touching him, but close enough that the space between them felt intentional rather than empty.

"You grew up learning where obedience ended, and survival began," she said. "That teaches endurance. It teaches you how to stand, how to endure noise, how to keep moving when everything in you wants relief."

A pause followed, thoughtful rather than heavy.

"But it does not teach you how to choose," Seren added. "And choosing is slower. Choosing requires stillness. It requires listening to yourself when there is no order to follow and no voice telling you what must be done."

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hearth, toward Sinew, toward the imperfect signs of a life being shaped inside a place that had once known only rigid purpose.

"And yes," she said softly, "choosing comes with the very real possibility of choosing wrong."

She returned her attention fully to him, her expression neither stern nor indulgent.

"But mistakes made while choosing are not failures," Seren continued. "They are information. They tell you where the boundary actually is, not where you hoped it would be."

Her voice lowered slightly, not intimate in tone, but in intent.

"If you place a boundary where it does not belong, you will feel the resistance," she said. "Not as punishment. As friction. As a tension that refuses to be ignored."

A faint breath passed between them.

"And then you adjust," Seren added. "Not all at once. Not perfectly. But deliberately."

Her gaze remained steady.

"What matters is that the boundary is yours," she said. "Not Ignati's. Not your master's. Not the temple's."

Something almost wry touched her expression then, a softness earned rather than offered freely.

"And if you misplace it while acting in good faith," Seren continued, "you do not have to correct it alone anymore."

She did not say with me. She did not need to.

"That," she finished quietly, "is how you learn where it truly belongs."

The night remained unhurried around them. The temple listened. And for once, nothing demanded that Varin decide immediately.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin stood before her in his most honest form. There was nothing fancy about him, everything about him breathed necessity and minimal comfort. The type of living that reflected how he lived without apology or acknowledgement of anyone else’s judgement. He was a firm believer that how a person lives and holds themselves told a more clearer story about who they were.

“Choice…”

The word echoed as he looked at the walls with various carvings. A word he was still growing accustomed to, at first he believed that he was to stay on Korriban at all times unless ordered to move elsewhere and return. It wasn’t until recently that he started venturing off to further worlds where he could. And even then, it was only for his own purpose over leisure.

“I must admit, Seren. There is something about you that makes my walls crumble, faster than anyone else I have met.”

The words hung onto the walls for a moment as his gaze found her again.

“You know me better than most. With only a few exceptions, but those people are no longer with us.”

There was one exception, a memory that he has kept to himself. The memory of his master pulling melted glass from his legs, her action that was the tipping point in him choosing her as a master. It wasn’t because she was kind to him. She displayed that were she to have apprentices she truly would build them up after breaking them down. How his Father also treated his soldiers.

The night began to grow and the temperature dropped lower. To the point where it was at its worst for the night. Another breeze whispered into the temple, stirring around the room and causing the torchlight to dance. His hands found hers again and he looked up to the sky at the clouds of stardust above them and the dancing lights of distant stars, and the glowing orbs of far away planets.

“But even after that I have been more of a loner, unless my crew needed me. The days and nights that I am not with them I am here with my past and my thoughts.”

He looked back at her.

“Tonight, I think I can take down a boundary, if you would be here with me. As well at the same time start my first practice of setting a boundary for Ignati.”

As he spoke, his fingers tightened, as if nervousness began to come over him. He had never asked anyone to stay with him, not since he had landed here. He had learned to not be dependent on others, yet here he was, trying to leave that behind him. If only for one night. It was not an easy decision, but he felt he needed to make it, even if it seemed selfish.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not rush to answer him.

She stood close enough that she could feel the shift in his breathing when the night deepened, when the cold pressed harder, and the torches responded with restless flame. She did not pull her hand from his, nor did she tighten it further. She remained present, allowing the weight of what he had offered to settle between them before shaping it with words.

"Choice is rarely comfortable when you are first allowed to touch it," Seren said quietly. "Especially when your life has been built around endurance instead of permission."

Her gaze lifted briefly to the carvings along the wall, not to read them now, but to acknowledge them as witnesses. Then her eyes returned to him, steady, unflinching.

"If your walls are falling," she continued, "it is not because I am pushing them. It is because you no longer need them to stand."

She shifted just enough to face him more fully, still close, still anchored by their joined hands. Her thumb brushed lightly across his knuckles, slow and deliberate, grounding rather than possessive.

"I do not know you better than everyone," Seren said honestly. "But I know the version of you that remains when you are not performing survival for anyone else. That is not nothing."

The wind moved through the broken ceiling again, cooler now, sharper. She did not turn away from it.

"Being alone taught you how to endure," she said. "But endurance is not the same as control. And control does not require isolation."

Her expression softened, not into reassurance, but into something more precise. Understanding. "If you want to lower a boundary tonight," Seren said gently, "do it because you are choosing to, not because you feel you must replace silence with another presence."

She held his gaze when she finished speaking, letting the truth of it rest without pressure.

"As for Ignati," she added, quieter now, "setting a boundary does not mean silencing him completely. It means deciding when his voice is relevant and when it is not. That distinction is yours to make. No one else's."

A pause. Then, without stepping away, without changing her tone.

"I will stay," Seren said simply. "Not to guard you, and not to anchor you. But to witness you learning how to hold that line."

Her fingers remained intertwined with his, steady and warm against the night.

"For one night," she finished softly. "You do not have to do this alone."

She did not promise more than that. And she did not need to.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked down at her as she spoke. The temple as a witness would see that a foundation was laid.

“Discomfort should not be something to fear. You can’t grow if you do not expand.”

The torches dimmed slightly around them as his words clung to the air. The words he chose were carefully measured. As if speaking more to himself than he was to her, it was a phrase his mother told him when he first learned to garden.

He wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace as they stood in the near empty temple, the wind echoing off the walls. Sinew crawled under the covers to help absorb more warmth from the hearth. Wrapped up in the cloth making her look like she was trying to survive the sands itself. He drew a soft chuckle from Varin when he looked at her.

“I suppose we should rest for the night. It is late and you have traveled quite a bit to get here, that weighs.”

He looked towards his bed then back to her.

“I did say Korriban nights get cold.”

He walked towards his bed to get it situated.

“If you wish to sleep in your ship, I understand, but nights like this are really not too bad. I unfortunately only have one bed.”

He smirked as he looked at her.

The night grew darker as they slept, but at some point Varin woke up late in the night restless.

Usually on nights like this he meditated, a way to try and clear his thoughts or activity in his brain to try and coax back to sleeping. It usually didn’t work.

Varin sat on his knees in the sand pit head low and eyes closed as his hands rested on his pants. His boots dug into the sand for support as the cold wind wrapped around his bare scarred torso. The runic brands embedded in his flesh pulsed with a soft orange glow that would briefly illuminate the darkened room with a soft light before fading back to darkness.

His breathing was deep, slow and focused. His chest rising and falling as the only movement from his body as he sat still. He thought about their earlier conversations and Seren’s words. Processed it all. Imprinted them into his thoughts so that he could begin his practice with them.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The night deepened around the temple, cold settling into the stone and sand alike. The hearth continued its steady hum, a small pocket of warmth in a place that had never been meant for comfort. Sinew slept curled tightly in the coverings nearby, tucked in close to the heat, her breathing slow and even.

Seren woke not to sound, but to absence. The space beside her was empty. She lay still for a moment, listening—not with her ears, but with the quiet awareness she had honed long ago. The temple had shifted its balance. Not alarmed. Not threatened. Simply…attentive elsewhere.

She rose without haste, drawing the fabric she already wore more securely around herself as she stood. The movement was instinctive, a simple adjustment against the chill rather than preparation for anything more. Bare feet met cool stone, then sand, the temperature sharp enough to wake her fully without startling her.

She did not call out. Instead, she followed the presence.

The torches were low, their flames steady but subdued, casting long shadows that stretched and receded with the slow rhythm of the temple's breath. The cracked ceiling above revealed a scatter of stars, distant and indifferent, their light faint against the dark.

She found him in the sand pit.

Varin knelt in stillness, head bowed, eyes closed, his posture disciplined but not rigid. The cold wind traced over his bare, scarred torso without drawing a reaction. The runic brands along his flesh pulsed softly, orange light blooming, fading, blooming again, briefly illuminating the chamber before surrendering it back to shadow.

His breathing was deep. Measured. Intentional.

Seren did not intrude.

She moved to the edge of the pit and lowered herself into the sand at a respectful distance, mirroring his posture rather than interrupting it. Hands rested lightly against her thighs. Her gaze softened, unfocused, awareness widening to include him, the temple, the quiet pressure of the night.

She joined him without touching or speaking. The temple watched. And for the first time in a long while, it did not feel as if Varin were carrying its weight alone.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He felt her presence since she had woken up. He did not move even when she joined him in the pit. The cold chill wrapped both of them as he remained for a bit longer. Concentrating on the discomfort of the cold that bit down on them, contesting it with his body heat. It was a nightly ritual for him, especially after he would return from a longer journey. Expose himself to the elements so that he would always be ready for harsh environments. It also brought a sense of clarity to him.

Some time passed later into the night before he finished his meditation. It was unknown how long but it was still dark. He opened his eyes, a brief flash of vibrant orange in his color flared then dulled back to brown. He watched her for a moment, not interrupting, just enjoying the presence itself. The fact he was not alone for once.

He slowly stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Let's get some rest.”

He spoke softly.

“We have quite a bit to do tomorrow.”

He helped her up out of the sand, wrapping his arm around her waist and led her back to the bed. He laid with her for a bit, again lost in thought and eyes on her only, before sleep finally overtook him. A rare occurrence for him after waking up to meditate. He fell asleep with her in his arms. The heat of the hearth and his body keeping her from the biting cold.

The next morning Varin slowly began to wake up and he quickly sat up from the bed, almost out of habit, feeling like he had slept in past a reasonable time. He looked over to an already awake Seren as Sinew hopped off her bedding and trotted to Varin as a good morning ritual.

Varin reached down and scratched her ears before he stood up in just his sleep pants. He looked around for a shirt but Sinew seemed to have drug it away from him and possibly hid it somewhere in the temple. He gave her a look before Sinew pulled his shirt out of her bedding pile and brought it back.

“Thanks.”

He took the shirt from her and pulled it over his head.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The morning found Seren awake before the temple fully stirred.

She had slipped free of the bed quietly, careful not to disturb Varin or draw Sinew's attention too early. The cold had retreated slightly, not gone, but dulled by the slow return of daylight filtering through the broken ceiling above. Pale light spilled across the stone in narrow bands, catching dust and sand midair and turning them briefly luminous.

She moved through the space with familiarity now, not ownership, but comfort.

The small stove he'd assembled from scavenged parts still held a bit of warmth from the hearth nearby. Seren coaxed it back to life with practiced ease, adjusting vents and fuel until a low, steady heat settled in. She worked with what was available—dried meat sliced thin, a handful of roots she had recognized from his stores, crushed and steeped to soften their bitterness. It was simple, practical food. The kind meant to sustain rather than impress.

The scent carried first: warm, savory, grounding.

Oil hissed softly against heated metal. Steam rose in thin curls that caught the light and vanished. She stirred slowly, unhurried, letting the rhythm of the morning set itself without force. This was not a ceremony. It was care.

Behind her, the temple shifted.

She did not turn immediately when Varin stirred, sensing it the same way she had sensed his meditation the night before. The scrape of movement, the quiet ritual of Sinew hopping down and padding across the floor, the familiar sound of Varin waking too quickly out of habit rather than necessity.

Only when he sat up did Seren glance over her shoulder.

"You slept," she said, not teasing, not surprised. Just acknowledging it.

Sinew trotted past her, tail flicking once as she headed for Varin, and Seren stepped aside to give them space, continuing to tend the pan. The food was nearly done now, the edges crisping, the aroma filling the chamber in a way that made the temple feel briefly less ancient and more lived-in.

"I hope you don't mind," Seren added, nodding toward the stove. "I used what I recognized. Nothing rare. Nothing structural."

She plated the food onto a rough dish and set it aside to cool slightly, then poured a dark, steaming drink into a second cup, the scent earthy and familiar.

Morning on Korriban did not soften the world. But for a moment, standing there with warmth at her back and quiet around them, it did not feel so unforgiving either.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The scent of food cooking clung to the air as he glanced over to her.

“I hadn't slept like that in a long time. I'm not used to sleeping in to tell the truth.”

He finished giving Sinew some attention and made his way over to her, slipping on his boots. They echoed as he stepped over to her.

“I don't mind at all. It's also been a long time since I had something home cooked.”

He looked down at the dished food and held the plate in his hands, the scent of caff in the air. It almost seemed like a normal morning, which did not feel normal to him.

“Thank you.”

He spoke quietly, exhaustion still roughing up his voice.

CC walked in, his light footsteps echoing off the walls as he peered at the couple.

“AH, good morning you two. I was up all night making sure we did not have visitors.”

CC turned to face Varin.

“Master Varin, that lone pack seems to be getting a bit closer. Though they don't seem to be showing any signs of aggression.”

Varin's eyes caught him as he took a bit of food.

“This same pack that Sinew is from? Do they have a new alpha yet?”

CC blinked.

“Unknown, Sir. But I will keep watch on them.”

Varin gave him a silent nod as he sat down on the mattress, the food and caff now starting to wake him up. It was strange, he had slept so hard he woke up a bit foggy for once. Is this what a full night's sleep really felt like?

He looked back at Seren.

“It didn't get too cold for you did it?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren glanced up at him from the stove, one brow lifting as he spoke, the corner of her mouth tugging into something that sat comfortably between amusement and fondness. She turned just enough to lean her hip against the counter, arms folding loosely as she regarded him over the rising steam.

"It is the least I can do while I am staying with you," she said lightly, her tone warm without ceremony. "Helping with the temple, keeping an eye on things, and making sure you remember that eating is not an optional habit."

She shook her head at his question about the cold, a soft breath of laughter leaving her as she reached for her own cup of caf.

"Not with you acting like a personal furnace all night," Seren added, dry and amused. "Korriban can try all it likes, but I have slept in worse conditions with far less reliable heat."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Sinew and then to CC before returning to him, her expression easing into something more relaxed than she usually allowed.

"And for the record," she continued, taking a slow sip, "that fog you are feeling is what happens when you actually rest instead of keeping half your mind braced for the next problem. It is unpleasant the first few times. You do get used to it."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him as he ate.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Seren said, a hint of humor in her voice. "The temple will demand your attention soon enough."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He took a few bites of his food and a couple sips of caf. Then he looked at her.

“Is eating a daily habit?"

A sarcastic smirk appeared on his lips. Her next remark made him cough a bit on his food as he tried to swallow a mouthful, before finally controlling his air flow.

“Are you sure about that? You were the one taking up the mattress and the blankets.”

He gave her a non serious glare finishing his food and standing up, he walked up to her setting his empty plate down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“For someone who was so warm last night, you seemed to really like the blankets.”

Her information on why he was feeling foggy drew a short hum from him as he thought and processed the night.

“If this is how it feels to get “rest” I think I would rather have my normal three hours.”

He paused looking at her.

“If I'm sleeping alone of course.”

He looked around at the temple then back at his gear. Walking over he slipped on his heavy belt and attached his saber hilt. Next his gloves and finally his form fitted jacket.

“It does get colder down there, just so you know. And the cold may not bother me much, that doesn't mean I like standing in it.”

The humorous tone in her voice did not go unnoticed by him, a smile coming to his face.

“Formality is not needed here, Seren.”

He rested his hands on either side of her on the counter behind her. The feeling of her closeness was relaxing to him, so relaxing he did not notice he was practically boxing her in, though she could nudge him out of the way if she needed.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sinew dragging in a fresh kill before she started dining on it. More bones for the pile, more materials to continue shaping his rosary.

It looked as if Sinew had found some desert rodent this time. Excellent, the more she practiced her hunting the better.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren accepted the humor without deflecting it, the corner of her mouth lifting as she leaned one hip more comfortably against the counter. She did not step away when he crowded the space, only tilted her head slightly, amused rather than pressed.

She shook her head once, slow and fond, as if conceding a point she had already expected to lose.

"Eating regularly is a habit I try to maintain," she replied, tone dry but warm. "Jedi training is very good at teaching you how to ignore basic needs. Undoing that takes intention."

At his comment about the blankets, she let out a quiet breath of laughter, unbothered.

"I was warm because you are, in fact, a walking furnace," Seren said plainly. "The blankets were insurance. Old instincts." She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "When you grow up expecting to be woken at any hour, you learn to take comfort where it is available. Even if you do not strictly need it."

Her gaze lingered on him as he finished gearing up, not scrutinizing, just observing the familiar ritual of preparation. When he mentioned rest, her expression softened, not indulgent, not teasing this time, just honest.

"Rest is disruptive when you are not used to it," she said. "Your mind does not trust it yet. That fog is not a weakness. It is your body recalibrating." A faint smile returned. "You do not have to like it. You have to survive it."

When he mentioned sleeping alone, she did not comment directly. She only met his eyes for a moment longer than necessary, letting the implication settle without chasing it.

At his remark about formality, Seren inclined her head in acknowledgment, the gesture unforced.

"I know," she said quietly. "But some habits are older than titles. They do not vanish just because the setting changes."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Sinew and the fresh kill, then back to him, unfazed.

"And for what it is worth," she added, voice lighter again, "I appreciate being told when I do not need to perform a role. It makes it easier to remember I do not have to."

She straightened slightly, enough to ease the space between them without breaking the ease of it.

"Now," Seren concluded, calm and practical, "if we are heading lower, I will grab something warmer. Even if the cold does not bother you, I would rather not test how charitable this temple is before breakfast settles."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Her laugh pulled another smile over his face.

“A walking furnace? Don’t know if I have been called that one before to be honest.”

He chuckled.

“And I am comfortable? Wow, I have never had so many compliments at once. If I didn't know any better I would think you have some feelings for me.”

He gave her a nod and gave her some room to grab her stuff while he finished gathering some things needed for the temple. Some rations, a lantern, and some bright wire to mark passages.

“I’m sure I could get used to more sleep eventually, doesn’t mean I have to like it though. Well the after affects not the sleep itself. The sleep last night I had no issues with, though it is definitely different when someone else is with you.”

CC passed him a datapad as he gathered the last of his things.

“For images, Master Varin.”

Varin looked at the datapad and turned it on, making sure the screen was in one piece.

“Thank you CC. Hold down the fort while we are venturing.”

CC gave a slight bow as Varin turned to look at Seren again. Dungeon delving, with a partner. He was very excited about it. It was almost impossible to contain. Finally he shoved a couple of sleeping bags into his bag, the cloth stretched to its max point. Anymore stuff and it would burst.

“I’m not sure how many torches down there still work, so the lantern should help.”

When he looked back at her, he couldn’t help but admire her attire a bit. His gaze lingering a bit longer, the thought he had now adrift from memory.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not miss the way his gaze lingered, nor did she rush to deflect it. Instead, she let the moment pass naturally, the faint amusement in her expression untouched by self-consciousness.

"If I had feelings for every walking furnace I met," she replied lightly, "the galaxy would be a far more complicated place."

A brief smile curved at the corner of her mouth as she adjusted her own gear, practical motions learned long ago, habits that did not disappear simply because the company was different.

"Comfortable does not mean complacent," Seren continued, her tone easy but honest. "And warmth is noticeable. Especially on a planet that seems intent on reminding one how fragile flesh can be."

She glanced toward the bag he was packing, noting the care with which he chose what mattered and what did not.

"Sleep changes when it is shared," she said after a moment. "Not because it is deeper, necessarily, but because the mind stops standing watch alone. That takes adjustment."

When CC passed the datapad and retreated, Seren's attention returned to Varin, her posture relaxed, unguarded, but not careless.

"Lantern is wise," she added. "Shadow is useful, but only when paired with intention. Blind exploration invites mistakes."

She shouldered her pack and met his eyes again, the faint humor still present, softened by something steadier beneath it.

"And for the record," Seren said, "I am not easily impressed by compliments. But I do appreciate awareness. Some habits are difficult to break."

A pause, just long enough to acknowledge the unspoken.

"Shall we?"

Varin Mortifer