#bluesabered

on the contrary, she’d thought his office seemed.....nice. if an office (or hell, as he so eloquently put it) could feel at all homey, this one did. still professional and practical in every sense, but that fit with professor kenobi’s personality. at least, what rey knew about him. if nothing else, being in here didn’t seem to give rey any reason to feel nervous.

“if  you’re  trying  to  guess  at  what  i’m  thinking,  you  might  as  well  just  ask,”  there’s  a  quick  roll  of  pale  eyes  cast  in  his  general  direction,  a  motion  that’s  become  so  practiced  once  more  than  it  feels  all  but  instinctual,  “you’re  just  sitting  there,”  a  delicate  hand  lifts  to  brush  against  her  chin, “stroking  your  beard  and  furrowing  your  brow.” 

            ❝  i  need  your  𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄    .   .  .       𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆  .  ❞ 

reacts / soft edition.

     Running, running, running. Tom’s lungs hurt, burning against the effort to keep him in flight. Gnarled branches tore at his arms, seeming to grasp for him, dragging him back toward the flashes of red and that awful hum. He’d come for Tom. Finally. Crimson seared and cut the darkness, rumbling close enough he could feel the energy, aimed for his neck. A swing…        Tomas!       With a jolt, he sat up from his bed roll, forehead covered in cold sweat. Dark curls clung to pale skin, stuck in a halo that framed a look of terror.  “R-" He starts, but a cough and shortened breaths cause his voice to waver. Slowly, he draws in a breath, trying to steady his pulse.