#eilvana

What is light without a little darkness?

The girlfriends are back in town (committing crimes and assassinating emperors)

Lana denies, every time Varri says it, that she is 'cute.' Sith are not 'cute,' she says, as Varri beams in the tangle of sheets next to her, running a finger down the curve of her bicep. Sith are not 'cute,' she protests, when Varri straightens her cloak outside a meeting, fingers brushing her collar where, just beneath, her skin is a mess of love bites. Sith are not 'cute,' she argues, when Varri looks at her over the dinner table, eyelids low and a glimmer of a smile on her lips, lips that have memorized every scar on Lana's flesh. "Sith are not 'cute,'" Lana says now, as Varri dresses in the soft morning light. She pulls on pants with a smirk, turning back over her shoulder to look at Lana. "And yet, there you are," Varri throws back. Blush creeps across Lana's face and down along her chest, bright red mixing with the yellow, purple, blue, faded marks from Varri's lips and teeth and tongue. Lana scowls, but all it does is make Varri laugh and turn, black curls spinning like a halo round her head. "You are entirely too full of yourself, you know," remarks Lana, unwilling to concede. "Entirely too full of yourself Commander," teases Varri, pulling a shirt on to button and buckle, blue fabric covering the lush folds of her body. The scars, too. Scoffing, Lana stands, rising from the bed with a sheet wrapped around her. She approaches Varri, feet padding softly along the floor. "You'll be the death of me," she says, whispering it into Varri's ear as she buckles her belt. Varri laughs, the sound breathy, and turns to face Lana. With bare hands, her gloves still on the dresser, she takes Lana's face in her hands, squishing the Sith's cheeks and clucking her tongue. "Yes, but a very cute death it will be." Lana doesn't say anything this time, not when Varri kisses her.

Some SWTOR saturday wips hehe

“What have you become?” Lana’s voice is a whisper in Eilvarri’s ear. A whisper, and Valkorion’s laughter a roar. You have become something greater. “Lana—“ When Lana helps Eilvarri stand, it’s as though she can hardly bear to touch her. It’s as though she fears her. As she should. “Lana,” Eilvarri says again. Her voice is hoarse. She has not cried once since this began. She has not broken, not even once. But now, her voice feels stuck in her throat, caught in the knot of emotions there that sends hot shame to her eyes. “Lana, I’m afraid,” she says at last, the first time she has admitted it to anyone but the silent emptiness of a vacant room. The first time she has admitted it to herself. “Let’s get you out of here,” Lana says, and there’s softness in her voice, but there’s something else, too. If Eilvarri could pay attention, if not for the crackling pain of Valkorion’s power running through her body, she might be able to name it as sadness. Sorrow. But she can’t, she can’t focus, not as an aftershock tears through her, angry purple lightning coiling itself around her insides. Eilvarri yells. She screams. The pain is beyond anything she’s felt, beyond the agony of dying slowly, frozen in carbonite, and she regrets listening to Valkorion even for a moment. You will not regret it again. Is it Valkorion who speaks now in her mind? Or is it Eilvarri herself? “Lana,” she says once more, choking on it, and then the world is dark.

At last.