m a r t y r .

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Saufa About

Saufa Verses

Leika'le About

Leika'le Verses

Everything hurts.

Like a supernova, a burst of light-like-pain in every nerve and synapse and atom. A bomb going off in the center of him, agony radiating like fallout. The kolto doesn't help, but it's something. It's enough that consciousness found him again, it's almost bearable. The groan that leaves his throat says otherwise, the curses don't support any argument aside from, "This is luck?"

It isn't bitter. It never is.

He chuckles instead.

    "I've had visions since I was a child," Saufa says after a moment, craning his head to look in the direction of her aura. A terrible coincidence that the most recent future-dream caught him off guard enough to cause the speeder to crash. How these things ought to be timed, on a schedule, is a belief he's held for ages now. So what if it'd been enough to save the two of them, so what if the Force granted him another favor to add to a never-ending list?

    "I don't know if I’m able to feel lucky anymore," unsure of how to say what he says without sounding unmindful. A difficult feat when the galaxy itself deigns to tear his body asunder without touching it at all. "But it's not always luck. Sometimes it's more than that, sometimes it's less."

And sometimes he can't even fathom it; a species-wide attunement to a singing ghost makes him forget on occasion. As if it hadn't always been a part of him, woven into his DNA; as if he’d be anything without it. “The Force is all around us, Margot. It’s in you, too. If you knew how I see you, if you could see...”