#frevan

"May I have the honor of taking your life?"

A drawing bug bit, and I drew a Lady Revan in the Thorn Princess's dress.

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Focus on the here and now, Bastila told herself. What are you hearing? The familiar sounds of the Ebon Hawk, the hums and low whistles of its systems. Revan’s breathing, harsh and loud. Your own breaths. What are you feeling? Cool air, the faintest draft. The medical gel, cold and slick on her fingers. Revan’s skin felt hot, when she massaged the gel into the long burn stretching across her bare back, and Bastila hoped she didn’t have a fever. Her hair was still wet from Dromund Kaas’s rain. So was Bastila’s, she realized.

Focus on the physical, because if you let yourself think too much about all of this you’ll break down-

“Thank you,” Revan said. Voice rough, rasping. “For saving me. Again. I should have known you’d come.”

“I would have come a great deal sooner if you’d let anyone know where you were going,” Bastila heard herself say, and pressed down a little too hard, getting a tiny bit of shameful satisfaction out of feeling Revan wince.

“Believe me, I wish I had,” Revan said, and Bastila had to swallow down guilt that she’d gotten angry.

She leaned forward, until she could carefully, gently lean against Revan, and press her cheek to the warm unburned skin, and hear Revan’s heartbeat- through her ears or through the Force, she wasn’t sure. Their bond was still dead and silent, and it was bizarre, to have Revan right here, to feel her, solid and alive, and hear her speak, but not have that gravitational pull, that sense in her heart that she was not alone.

Revan stayed still, but Bastila could feel her trembling with the conscious effort of it.

well, here they are, the terrible Jedi who ruined my life forever

referenced from photos of my facecasts, Gina Torres and Hayley Atwell

they're supposed to be in their Star Forge robes