#oswaldsorbit

@spideyxgwen

@oswaldsorbit

​Every morning, Ender’s older brother Pete, and his older sister Valentine, went to school. Her father went to work selling used cars for unfair prices and his mother went shopping.

Ender was left alone. That was how he liked it. By the time he was four, he had read every book in the house. He even managed to walk the four blocks to the library and read everything in the children’s section. He got himself a library card and began to read avidly.

So Ender’s strong, young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world, like ships onto the sea. These books gave Ender a hopeful and comforting message; you are not alone.

Sometimes Ender longed for a friend, someone like the kind, courageous people in his books. It occurred to him that like talking dragons and princesses with hair long enough to climb, such people might exist only in storybooks. And that in the real world, older brothers were only sources of hurt and pain rather than loving and kind like in his books.

Finally, almost a month late, Ender was enrolled in school too. A different one than his siblings. His first day was interesting and he adored his teacher. Having read so many books, he knew the answer to what was supposed to be a ridiculous math question.

As the brunette crumpled to the ground in grief, Rey felt her heart break for the girl. She could empathize with Clara’s feelings; she had felt the same way after watching Kylo kill Han. Back then, she had no idea who her family was or if she would ever see them again, and the smuggler had begun to fill that void....only to be killed shortly after right in front of her eyes. 

She knew there were things she should say: “it’ll be ok”, “killing won’t bring your sister back”, etc. but she knew how empty and meaningless those sentiments were. 

So she instead knelt down next to the other girl and tentatively put her arm around Clara’s shoulders, just offering silent comfort. 

@oswaldsorbit

@oswaldsorbit

Having gotten a call early that day on her phone; the American is sitting in the kitchen of the Oswald sisters she had met from earlier on that week. Kira had left her cell number behind, in case they would want to talk. 

She sips on the tea that the oldest; Clara, had made. It’s still too hot for her tastes but she waits patiently for one of the girls to talk.