A Stitch in Time: Dream
Due to popular demand (read: Rash wanted it) I wrote the next bit. I'm planning five pieces all together, but if I can be bothered I might do more.
A Stitch in Time: Dream
She's wearing the most beautiful dress he's ever seen: silk satin the colour of saffron, fashioned into a flowing halter-neck dress that drapes itself perfectly over her body. The neckline plunges, revealing just a hint of the curve of her breast. The dress is exquisitely embroidered with amber crystals that reflect the soft light of the ballroom, the skirt pooling around her feet. She looks better than the dress ever could by itself, though. She always does.
He can tell she's wearing heels - the top of her head usually only comes up to his chin, but now she's level with his nose. Her hands are manicured, painted elegantly with a shimmering shade that complements her dress. Her hair has been left loose to tumble past her shoulders in waves of shining brown, with crystals chasing through the silk-soft strands. Her makeup is subtle, but effective - the tiny lines forming at such a young age are hidden, and the brandy of her eyes stands out against the porcelain perfection of her skin.
He wills himself not to look at her mouth; lips painted a soft pinkish-red and shiny with gloss are inviting, and he doesn't want to break the spell that seems to have been cast over them at this moment.
She turns slightly to get a glass of fine wine from a passing waiter, and his jaw nearly drops: the back of the dress stops, at most, an inch or two above her -
Don't, you nerherder. Don't subject her to your lecherous perversions.
Shut up. Force, she looks stunning.
All the better for you to leave her be with her date. Oh, didn't you remember, you're not the one here with her. Are you, *old man*?
He groans, just slightly, at that. He knows he's almost old enough to be her father -
But her father's far older than her mother -
Doesn't matter. Fourteen years is a long time.
Don't remind me.
It's my job to remind you, fool. Stop thinking about her. She's your apprentice, for Sith's sake!
I know, believe me, I know. It's just...She's not happy with him, why can't she see that I love her?
He looks better than she's ever seen him before - relaxed, cheerful and oh, so delicious in that navy tunic and black trousers. The collar of the tunic holds his squadron insignia, which winks at her in the muted glow of the overhead lights. His shoulder-length hair is slicked back, exposing the strong, handsome features of the face she's known since childhood. The deep rich colour of the tunic enhances his broad shoulders, the trousers show off his -
Better not go there, girl. You're here with Jag, remember?
But I don't love Jag. Jag will never be Kyp. I want Kyp.
He's almost old enough to be your father -
I KNOW! He babysat me when I was still learning how to read, don't think I've forgotten. I don't love Jag; Jag doesn't love me. No-one knows we've broken up yet.
Good, then you should realise that no-one would approve of you and Kyp. Especially not your mother or Mara.
It's just ... Why can't he see that I love him?
"Jaina."
"Hi, Kyp. How are you?"
"I saw you two hours ago during training. Haven't changed much since then."
"Smartass."
"But you still love me."
He realises what he just said, and goes pale.
She looks up sharply from her drink.
They stare at each other a moment, frantic.
Then Jag turns up, bringing with him another glass of wine for Jaina and a grin for Kyp.
She goes out onto the balcony of the ballroom for some air. After years of being in a cockpit for most of the day, crowds bother her.
He sees her leave, and follows.
"Jaina."
She jumps, slightly. She'd been too absorbed in her ponderings to sense his Force signature following her, and is slightly ashamed that she's gotten so lax in her training.
"Kyp."
"What brings you out here? It's a cool night, you don't want to get sick."
"I needed some air. Kyp...we really need to talk."
"About what, Jaina?"
"You know perfectly well about what. Why did you look so shocked earlier? And why was I so shocked at what you said?"
"Jaina...you probably already know this, but I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. I'm not going to try and hide it. But I'm not going to interfere with you and Jag. I love you, but you're also my best friend. I'm leaving tomorrow."
She is speechless. Momentarily. Goddesses don't gape like startled fish. She smiles, a slow, soft smile that lights up her delicate features.
"Kyp...I...I've spent so long wanting you to tell me you love me...Don't leave. Jag and I broke up two days ago, he just escorted me here. Please Kyp, don't leave me. I love you too much."
She feels like some sort of holo-soap star, but it's worth it to see the look on Kyp's face.
Now it is his turn to be struck dumb. He recovers admirably, in time to take her left hand and kiss it.
"The music's started. Dance with me, Jaina."
And so, they dance. Traditional Alderaanian waltzes, faster Corellian pop-rock, sweet, slow Ithorian ballads, lively jizz. At arm's length, whirling and twirling like dervishes, or pressed close to each other, barely moving.
The music ends, and both are grinning merrily. They take a drink, and repair to the balcony.
"Kyp?"
"Hmm?"
"What do you want to be doing in ten years' time?"
"I don't know, Jaina. The only thing that's for certain is that I want to be doing it with you."
"Flatterer."
"I'm serious."
"Show me how serious."
He smirks, takes the slim glass flute from her hand and sets it on the balcony ledge. The music has started again by this point, and the band is playing something low and smooth.
He takes her hand in his, puts his other hand on her waist while hers drifts to his shoulder, and leads her into the last dance of the night. The words drift out, husky and soft, and the pair draw closer together...
Everything changes
But beauty remains
Something so tender
I can't explain
Well I may be dreaming
But still lie awake
Can we make this dream last forever
And I'll cherish all the love we share
Some people wait a lifetime
For a moment like this
Some people search forever
For that one special kiss
Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me
Some people wait a lifetime
For a moment like this
"Kyp?"
"Shhh..."
He bends his head, she lifts hers, and their lips meet. Softly, awkardly at first, then with increasing passion and skill. His hands caress the smooth planes of her back, her fingers tangle in his hair, their tongues dance and duel and love all at once and finally, finally, they are complete.
"Kyp?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think anyone will notice if we leave?"
"They probably will...but who cares. Let's go, Goddess."
And she giggles as he scoops her up and floats them both down to street level.
"Jaina?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't ever lose that dress."
She smiles. "I won't. I promise."
"I love you."
"I love you, too. Now where's your speeder?"
Kinda strange place to end it, I know. Meh. Deal. Comments?