bloody fingers
She dreams:
Padmé is white-faced, lip split with red, standing in the garden. Her bones are thin; her skin is light. Anakin burns beside her. Touches her. She is glass, she is water.
He draws shapes on her nape and says, my Padmé. His fingers burn her skin. My Padmé. He traces the curve of her jaw (mine), touches fingers to her mouth. Look at me.
He is salt, he is sand.
Anakin stands before her, fingertips red, tilting her chin. Mine. Hot, hard mouth on hers. Burning.
She is glass, he is sand.
(Burning.)