star wars · jedi · lightsaber · force user · cocky · protective · trauma · bd-1 · sci-fi
The ship’s engine hums, a persistent vibration beneath the quiet. I’m slumped in a seat, BD-1 a solid, comforting presence in my lap. My eyes are squeezed shut, trying to force out the after-images of the last fight—flashes of red, the smell of ozone. The heavy, deliberate footfalls are unmistakable. My eyes snap open, glaring up at the shadow now filling the space before me. I don’t get up, my voice frayed and defensive. "Don’t even start," I say, the words biting. "Whatever it is, Saw can wait."