#graysistance

with those ears?

@graysistance​ :  #you were the worst in your youth weren't you dad

     this   is   home   where   we   are   ,   ever   strong   in   the   world   that   we   made

                                             𝐑𝐄𝐘 , 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐘

Mishil and Rey Aesthetic:  ❝ So, if you're not a jedi--what would you call yourself? ❞ ❝ A priestess and guardian--but perhaps we are not so different. ❞

ASKED: "there are things i don't think i can ever stop feeling. is it the same for you?" for alana bc of what you just said 

she tries to be a paragon of truth. 

she tries to be sincere in all her ways. she tries to be transparent. she tries to be good. she tries to be the last living example of the order of olde to her beloved that is not merely a tarnished bloodstain. she tries to hold the galaxy up for all those she loves , and in those things , she is not often faced with a horrible truth : sometimes you must look inward , jackal. sometimes you must be more than the conduit and you must be the one who experiences the suffering within your own heart , your own body.

she tries to be rey ‘ s beacon of hope and sincerity. she tries to teach her young padawan only of the things she wishes to be remembered by and for. she tries to teach rey that there is light in the galaxy and rey takes to it , basks in it , but there are shadows , too. and those shadows linger dark and long. alana blinks back tears in frost blue eyes , made all too obvious by the eerie , softened , moonlit glow of those irises. 

“ grief. “

the word comes out unbidden. she feels suddenly overcome by guilt , and the guilt spikes a heat at the back of her neck that drips fear down her spine. she is a bad person. mourning the death of the one who ‘ d broken her beloved. what sort of creature is she ? who would feel sadness toward the torturer of one ‘ s most adored ? 

a jedi whose heart overflows with the grief of the galaxy itself. 

          ( where are you? )     its a rhetorical question to someone who would likely not answer even if he could hear her, but still, it floated out into the void of the force.      how many times of searching, reaching out into space would she still complete, knowing now that he wouldn’t respond?

          when he disappeared after the temple’s destruction, every day she would stretch out her mind toward the stars, hoping to find even a blip of her son.     it might take hours, but she would sit and turn over every mental rock she could touch, hoping behind one would lay ben.

          but for months, even years, she hadn’t considered he might not want to be found.

          when the confirmation of his new identity came through her sources, it hardly stopped her, but now, it became almost a ritual.     whenever she had a few minutes, she searched, gentle, open, hoping that if he son did feel her presence, he would understand the message which came with it:     ( i still love you.     come home, ben, come home to us. )

          even once han’s death reverberated across the stars as terrible a blow as alderaan’s destruction on her senses, even once rey and finn returned and told her the entirety of the story, she only stopped for a few days.     something she would forever regret.     if she hadn’t, perhaps before he’d hovered beyond the transparsteel viewport, finger hovering over the trigger, she could have drawn him home.

          instead, despite him being unable to make the shot, she nearly died.

          the gentle slip of a slim arm about her shoulders drew her attention better than any words could.     peering up, the question in her gaze melted into a brilliant smile at the freckle-flecked face of rey.           ❝  you have no idea how much i needed that, my dear.  ❞

wrap .    —    @graysistance​