dsfklmvclkbmakdkjssvkrnh... aka The Morning After

[lasting-justice.livejournal.com]

((backdated to the day following Talk Like A Pirate Day. Closed to Fett and Sunshine, of course))

It wasn't quite dawn when Fett stirred on the floor of the Gallery. The problem was instantly registered (the way any change in his environment was bound to do) - weight and heat at his side, where nothing should be. He moved impossibly fast, reached for his rifle only to find that it wasn't there.

His eyes were open and his mind was firing, preparing him to spring to his feet so he could make tactical assessments of the area, but then it wasn't a threat or a stranger, then it -

Sunshine.

Sunshine on his makeshift bed, on the floor next to him.

Sunshine without any clothing on. At all. Not a scrap. And...

Yes. Him too.

He held his breath.

And the fuzzier part of his brain, the part he had been fighting off since semi-consciousness, came to the frontline and made itself violently known.

It... it wasn't... what in the name of the Vader's incinerated corpse had happened?

Surprisingly, Fett did what any man would do in his current situation: he sat up and attempted to extricate himself slowly, without waking the person next to him. Space was needed, space so he could think with clarity and not have that unfathomable skin on skin contact destroying what was left of his rational mind.

They had been talking like... and then cookies... he had - oh no, not going anywhere near -

He was stuck. Maybe if he moved very slowly....

Comments

[grumpy-sunshine.livejournal.com]

Frankly, Sunshine didn't really expect to be in control of much of anything in her life. She hadn't expected control at home, either, not with the normal things - her daily routine, her schedule, her finances, the privacy of her relationships in the claustrophobic closeness of the coffeehouse - and certainly not with the magic that only a panicked flailing after survival had forced her to use.

"I ought to be able to tell if it's not real sunlight," she said. "I get kind of...sick. Without the sun."

She frowned. "How can you be 'not allowed'?"

[lasting-justice.livejournal.com]

Well, most people did get sick without sunlight. Or at least depressed. But he had a feeling that wasn't what she meant. "Sick how?"

He hadn't phrased this idea of family in the clearest way. "If all of your blood relatives die you are given an adopted family. Someone volunteers to take care of you. The adopted family treats you as if you were blood related to them, the bonds are just as strong. It is required, in their minds." He had often suspected that was why his father had wanted a son, some sense of requirement impressed on him. Strange, as he had not been Mandalorian himself by birthright.

[grumpy-sunshine.livejournal.com]

Rae shrugged. "I get weak. My immune system bottoms out. When I was really little, we lived for a year in this tiny underground apartment, and I spent pretty much the whole time crying and getting sick. Took my mom a while, watching me follow the little patch of sun that came in through the one window, to figure out what was wrong. Sunlight is my element - I'd probably be dead if I'd been this long without it."

She listened to his explanation thoughtfully. "Sounds like a good way to handle things. Families are more...fluid where I come from, which has its difficult points as well as the positive."

[lasting-justice.livejournal.com]

"Your element?" he echoed. It sounded like they were getting suspiciously close to magic territory again. Which made him want to ask her a few questions that he had been holding back very well so far. Questions about whether what had happened last night was anything that she was familiar with in her world, anything that would help him to understand what had gained supremacy over him, and how it could be stopped.

He sighed very softly. "I suppose it is a good way. For them. I haven't paid much attention to their rules...." There was a since that hadn't come at the end of that sentence, but it was still hanging there in the small amount of inflection his voice allowed.