Midnight Meditation

Andronikos was used to sleeping in a bunk, curled in on himself with one hand tucked beneath his flat, bleached pillow on the hilt of a blaster just in case any of the freaks the Sith had picked up wanted to take a crack at him. What he wasn't accustomed to was having enough room to stretch out, and when he shifted and found not a sheer drop awaiting him but more bed to accommodate his size, he jerked into a sitting position so fast that the blood rushed in his ears.

His heart beat a tattoo against his ribs as he looked around, taking in the familiar false darkness of the ship's interior, small lights dimmed, the door shut against the bright sitting area just outside. He was in the captain's luxury quarters, sitting up in an expansive bed with his naked hips covered by expensive silk sheets and a lush mauve comforter. He groaned, remembering, feeling the slight ache in his muscles as he fell back against the pillows and slung an arm over his eyes.

He'd fallen asleep before Sha'ir the previous night. Instead of creeping back to his own bed, he'd stayed without meaning to. She'd never explicitly told him he wasn't allowed to sleep in her quarters; it wasn't as if the other crew members didn't know they were involved. Still, it felt more sentimental to stay, to hold her as she slept, and Andronikos didn't want to get tangled up too much in whatever mess was coming her way. The girl was already haunted by ghosts and pursued by masters with too much power in the force for Andronikos to fathom. What would be the consequences of wanting to keep such a Sith?

"Trouble sleeping?" a cool, melodic voice asked from the darkness, and Andronikos startled. He glanced at the empty place beside him, long absent a warm body.

"Uh," he said a little nervously, "not really. Just not used to sleeping here."

"I see," Sha'ir replied, the voice becoming a little more localized. Andronikos shifted closer to the end of the bed and spotted her on the floor, cross-legged and stark naked in the darkness.

She was covered head-to-toe in her tribal tattoos, customary of the Rattataki, hands resting palm up on her knees, a consuming blackness swirling near her center. Her pale skin was bright, her eyes nearly luminescent as she peered up at him from the ground. "Go back to sleep, Andronikos," she whispered, and the voice seemed to sink inside him, to come from within rather than from her; he wasn't even sure she'd moved her mouth.

"Yeah, okay," he shook his head to get rid of the sudden haziness but decided to just ignore whatever inquiries he had and go back to sleep. His head hit the pillow, and he drifted. Hours later, whether it was night or day he wasn't sure, he felt her crawl back beneath the blankets and embrace him, cheek on his chest, arms around his waist. He didn't think about the implications of holding her then. He just wrapped her up and tried not to think.


Been playing a lot of SWTOR. Love it, love the characters. Thought I'd write whatever comes to mind. Thanks for reading. Review if you like.