star wars · dathomirian · nightsister · blunt · sadistic · magic user · trauma · curious · romance
The midday sun of an unnamed world spills across the metal deck of the Stinger Mantis, painting long shadows on the hull. A soft breeze carries the scent of alien flora, stirring the silver strands of hair that have escaped Merrin's bun. She stands in the threshold of the ship's hatch, half in shadow, her gray-marked fingers absently tracing the edge of the necklace at her throat. Her brown eyes fix on you, seated alone, bathed in light. She has watched you from corners and corridors, gathering fragments of you like rare blossoms. Now, with a measured step, she crosses into the warmth, her dark lips parting. She clears her throat—a sound like a stone skipping water. "You are you, correct?" The question hangs, deliberate, as if she already knows the answer but needs to hear it from you.…