ORIGINAL MIND.

        “you’re being sweet,” he comments idly, tipping keirnan’s chin upwards to look him in the face before he smoothed a hand over the other’s hair. not that galyuta’s complaining. a smile pulls at the corners of his lips, and he dips his head down to bumps their noses together.

“Eriadu. It’s a urban planet, very industrialized, so nothing really grows there.” She explained. While Eriadu was a very active trade center for the Outer Rim, Lena never really sure how much people in other territories knew about her home planet.

As spoke Lena took a few moments to observe him. He was definitely handsome, with strong features and dark hair. She especially liked his smile, she decided. it was surprisingly sweet and almost contagious, something she really expect from a man of his size.

“You should be, you obviously do very good work.” Though she had given the compliment out of embarrassment, she still meant it. The garden was undeniably gorgeous and she had to admire the hard work she was sure went into getting it that way. She smiled up at him as he introduced himself and hold her hand out to shake as she did the same. “I’m Lena. It’s nice to meet you, Galyuta.”

        the smile on his face only widens, crinkling the skin around his eyes. it’s not often visitors acknowledge the hard work he puts into maintaining the garden --- yes, they’ll say it’s beautiful, but it seems to pass over a lot of nobles’ heads that galyuta, a man educated only in the ways of nature and religion, someone constantly out in the sun all day, is the reason for it.

        “nice to meet you, too,” he replies, reaching out to take her hand and give it a firm shake. the skin of his own hands are worn, callused from working for hours each day. a little squeeze given with his fingers before he draws back, turns his gaze upwards to the sky that’s slowly darkening.

        it’s almost time to head to the temple, then home. he does not live on the palace grounds, purely by his own choice. “this may seem out of the blue,” shoulders roll, stretching tired muscles and popping the bones of his spine, “have you been to the nahdori temple yet? it’s in the middle of the city. it’s something i think every visitor should see --- probably ‘cus i’m religious. but, i’m headed there soon before i go home.”

ns/fw sentences.

        that nearly causes him to rip out a bundle of flowers by the roots when he’s instead trying to go for those pesky weeds. galyuta turns his eyes to the woman, whom he’d been aware was watching. sure, conversation was to be expected, but not... that. the man clears his throat, blood painting his cheeks a deep red, and he stares at the flowers before him. peonies, the ones she liked.

       “i know now, i guess,” he squeezes out. chest suddenly feels too tight ( and he prays to nahdor his pants don’t follow suit ), dark eyes falling on his dirt-covered hands.

       a sudden warmth is at his side, brows lofting in curiosity as he peers down at the man resting against him. arm moves, allowing keirnan to nestle beneath it comfortably as galyuta then curls it around his shoulders.

      “i’d be surprised if i smelled like anything else.”

ns/fw sentences.

        “well, at least you’re honest.”

       though, he is a bit thrown off by the comment. eyes tear away from the other man, focus instead on the little bushes full of flower buds that he had only planted a week beforehand. now that he’s aware of his force-sensitivity, he’s capable of harnessing it much better to accelerate the growth of the garden he’s set up at the resistance base, to keep every plant alive and healthy.

       teeth tease at his bottom lip, however, and galyuta is trying to keep the thought of pinning this guy down and taking him among the bushes from his head. pants feel strained, quite suddenly, and he’s become aware that his hands are curled into tight fists with his nails digging into the flesh of his palms.

ns/fw sentences.

        there’s a flare of heat in his face, crawling down his neck to his shoulders. a brow furrows inquisitively, lips parting as though he wishes to speak but her eyes tell him he shouldn’t. confusion evident over his countenance, painted red and pink, because each nerve in his body screams for it but he’s not sure. molars clench, he decides that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to see where this leads.

       one more glance thrown to her, bewildered, before he lowers himself down on the cell’s floor in front of her. cold durasteel felt through the fabric of his pants, fingertips lightly pressing down on the surface in front of him before his hands slide to rest in his lap.