she wakes in . . . not quite pain, exactly, but something close to it. pain’s sister, perhaps. her right arm is throbbing, her shoulder on fire, and she takes careful stock of her injuries, the discomfort, and the RINGING in her earcones. the door slides open, but she doesn’t notice; the sound is barely there, a low whoosh that doesn’t quite register on hera’s flawed radar, and so rather than turning her head towards the new occupant of her cell, she instead wonders where the hell they’d put her visor, her commlink, her amplifiers. it’s not until a wave of white and blue passes through her sightline that her head snaps up, eyes narrowing, and then . . . she doesn’t want to admit to her spine relaxing minutely upon seeing him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. ( she is, in an odd way she can’t quite explain, almost relieved to see him. at least it’s not some faceless interrogation droid; thrawn, she can . . . handle is the wrong word. perhaps the one she’s looking for is understand. ) hera adjusts her seated position, raises both eyebrows, and keeps her gaze firmly locked upon his face.

SHE DOES NOT NEED him to say it , for she has long - since known the implicit threat hanging above her head like an EXECUTIONER’S BLADE , the vicious promise given the moment she had been transferred under his command .   She does not need him to tell her that someone is always watching , not when she can feel that gaze on her , watching CEASELESSLY .   Even in the dark of her own quarters , ALONE but for her thoughts , it is as though his eyes gleam from the shadows , embedding in her mind that she is not SAFE , not even as she sleeps .

Voice steeped in BITTERNESS , her own eyes gaze with nothing but an abiding HATRED ,     ❛   Is that a promise , Admiral ?   ❜

drive thru lady: you wanted...how many sugars?

me, sheepishly: ten?

     ❛   The trick is not to hesitate ,   ❜      Faël hums , tapping his hand with one delicate finger ,      ❛   That’s where you kept going wrong , you weren’t sure of where each brushstroke was going .   Or what you were going to do what you got there ,   ❜      She pauses , brow arching , and TEASING smile upon her lips ,      ❛   One would think you would be better at that kind of planning , Commander .   ❜

[ chin ] for your muse to gently grab my muses chin.

SHE WISHES HIS TOUCH WOULD BURN , would bruise , would leave some mark ; physical evidence to remind her to hate him .   But his grip is GENTLE   ( confoundingly , frustratingly so )   and he is far too controlled   ━━━   she doubts he’d mark her even if she begged .   Her jaw clenches beneath his fingers , teeth gritted , defiant glare upon her face .   DEFIANCE , even in the face of those frightening eyes , red glow that seems to bore into her , to look straight into the deepest part of her .

But she is practiced at hiding her feelings , her thoughts , from those who may try to DISCERN something from her sharp eyes and impassive countenance .   He tries to read her , and she , in that only act of power that she can still EXERCISE , refuses to let him .   Coffee - brown eyes flash , expression turned to that furious , DEFIANT glare , the kind that tells him nothing new , nothing MORE than she wishes him to see .   

                 I would kill you if I could .

@spectredeux

      “A question, captain.”

      For a while now they had reverted back to only their initial form of communication: seeking each other’s touch in tactics used by the enemy, picturing each other’s faces examining holomaps and trying to discern where they might take their forces next. He had debated calling her many times, but ultimately decided it would be unnecessary. Until now. Recent developments meant he required more information which his side either did not have or would not share with him.

      It had been a risk; since Atollon, he knew she would either not answer him, or answer with the full force of her wrath. Fortunately, she had answered, and that particular subject had not yet arisen in the conversation. He could only hope it remained undiscussed, but knew that was a rather unlikely outcome. Rather than dwell on it, he fixed his gaze on her hologram, enjoying the chance to once again admire the green of her eyes. “A Star Destroyer was recently destroyed in an explosion in the Tonnis sector, along with what appears to have been a civilian freighter. I can’t help but think your crew had something to do with it.“ A pause; a narrowing of his eyes. “Did they?”

she still doesn’t know why she answered his call. it’s not like tracing the origins of the incoming transmission would do her any good  ––––  they’re not ready to attack anyone in full force, not yet. the battle is still relegated to tactical operations, circling each other and striking in quick, precise movements. if hera were inclined towards sentimentality and romantic metaphors and notions, she’d think she and thrawn had been DANCING. as it is, she feels like this war has erupted something personal and binding between them.