Title: Those pitiless eyes.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between RotS and aNH.
Summary: Pooja unexpectedly meets an old acquaintance.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
The events in this story take place a few years after No longer lost.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Lucas; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.
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She stands in the doorway of her father’s study, her eyes fixed upon his desk. Although faded, the colours brightly shine in the afternoon light (to her). Brown hair tumbles around her shoulders, free of restraint; droplets slide along her arms.
A step into the room, finally, and she rubs her arms and turns from the room, pausing in the doorway and half-turning to face the toy.
The bare patches of the fuzzy fabric tells the story of love freely given; she clearly remembers the games she played when young, the hugs given and confidences whispered to all-knowing (or so she had believed) eyes. And now it sits on her father’s desk, grazing (a small voice inside her mind murmurs).
“I had to grow up,” she blurts. It passively sits, its gaze resting on her. “You couldn’t come where I felt I had to go.”
She fully turns, to meet that unblinking stare, and she wraps her arms around herself tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Pooja?”
She starts, having thought her mother gone to visit her parents. She glances over her shoulder; her mother is waking down the hall. She stills, hoping her mother doesn’t see her, doesn’t come into the study and find her.
“Pooja!”
She sighs, her mother standing in the doorway.
“You shouldn’t have come in here without drying yourself!” Sola scolds and, with an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, guides her from the room so she might dry and dress for the evening meal.
She allows her mother to lead her away from those (she feels) pitiless eyes that heard her confession and gave no absolution for childish actions. She allows her mother to gently remind that she should’ve dried herself immediately after her swim; Sola’s words fly overhead, unheard. All she can see is that shaak, sitting in the corner of her father’s desk, reminding her of all she had lost.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between RotS and aNH.
Summary: Pooja unexpectedly meets an old acquaintance.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
The events in this story take place a few years after No longer lost.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Lucas; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.
She stands in the doorway of her father’s study, her eyes fixed upon his desk. Although faded, the colours brightly shine in the afternoon light (to her). Brown hair tumbles around her shoulders, free of restraint; droplets slide along her arms.
A step into the room, finally, and she rubs her arms and turns from the room, pausing in the doorway and half-turning to face the toy.
The bare patches of the fuzzy fabric tells the story of love freely given; she clearly remembers the games she played when young, the hugs given and confidences whispered to all-knowing (or so she had believed) eyes. And now it sits on her father’s desk, grazing (a small voice inside her mind murmurs).
“I had to grow up,” she blurts. It passively sits, its gaze resting on her. “You couldn’t come where I felt I had to go.”
She fully turns, to meet that unblinking stare, and she wraps her arms around herself tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Pooja?”
She starts, having thought her mother gone to visit her parents. She glances over her shoulder; her mother is waking down the hall. She stills, hoping her mother doesn’t see her, doesn’t come into the study and find her.
“Pooja!”
She sighs, her mother standing in the doorway.
“You shouldn’t have come in here without drying yourself!” Sola scolds and, with an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, guides her from the room so she might dry and dress for the evening meal.
She allows her mother to lead her away from those (she feels) pitiless eyes that heard her confession and gave no absolution for childish actions. She allows her mother to gently remind that she should’ve dried herself immediately after her swim; Sola’s words fly overhead, unheard. All she can see is that shaak, sitting in the corner of her father’s desk, reminding her of all she had lost.
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