Hello readers! This will be an ongoing project of mine, and I will try to update weekly (I know I'm not so good at the whole updating on time thing, but I will try ! I mean it!) I love Ahsoka's character as you may have noticed. And I enjoy writing the Familial/Friendly relationship between she and Anakin. I used the 100 drabble challenge on Jedi Council Forums for this project. So withour further ado! Please Enjoy-Instant De Vie!
Title-Instant De Vie
Author-Silvermoonjumper
Summery-A collection of 100 Anakin/Ahsoka moments.
Characters-Anakin, Ahsoka, Other characters will appear.
Genres-Angst, Contemplation, friendship.
Warnings-Mentions of blood, some 'Star Wars Language' later on.
Smooth-Her gloves were smooth, worn by the friction of metal against leather. Broken in and stained by her sweat and the blood of brothers. Flexible due to the sheer amount of wear. Her gloves were smooth, she thought. Her soul was not.
Rough-His voice is rough, a result of the constant yelling on the battlefield and the remnants of his Mos Espa accent. It strikes fear into the hearts of their enemies. But at night, when that voice is slowly humming in her ear, soothing her back to sleep after a nightmare, it's the most comforting thing Ahsoka's ever heard.
Dry-He hates Tatooine. The never-ending heat, the ever-present sand, the memories that threaten to drag him under. But what he hates the most is the dry, heavy air. The air that leaves you feeling more and more suffocated the more you breath. This dry, dead planet took everything from him. And in some corner of his mind, he wishes it wold take him too.
Wrinkled-His back is wrinkled with scars, mementos of battles and confrontations. Round shiny scars tell the story of blasters, betrayal. One long one speaks of an accident of some kind, most likely mechanical. There are some that look like burns, others that look like tears. But there are some that she can't recognize. And it's not until she get beaten with a whip herself that she knows what they are. The scars of captivity.
Weathered-They stepped over broken bodies, their boots covered in grime and blood. The sun was peaking over the horizon, as if seeing if it was safe to fully rise. Their faces were worn and tired, scratched with the brutalities of the battle. But in the end, they had each other. They were survivors. They had weathered the storm.