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❛ i hope it's a dream and you're / still with me / this isn't real / your heart's still beating. ❜
LUKA// VIRA
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WOLFFE STARED IN HORROR. Gaping at the place the Padawan learner just stood.
Once stood.
She had just so selflessly saved him. Him: a clone. A million of him, and yet only one her. With no regard for her own life at all, she had saved him and now she was gone. Gone; dead — only one of her in the world and she was dead.
Yet, he still breathed.
Yet, it was his fault.
Trembling, he attempted to stand. His eyes were still painfully locked on where the Vashuni had last been, only now covered by debris. With alarms continuing to blare, Wolffe was stunned into silence, mulling over the Padawan's dying act of heroism.
It just wasn't right.
And that's when it hit him.
'She might still be alive.'
Dashing over to the large mound of fallen debris, he hurriedly began digging through the growing pile of broken pieces.
Hoping to find a not-so-broken white-haired girl among it all.
Bile rose in his throat as hysteria settled in. He clawed at the girl's apparent killer desperately now, anxiously waiting for her to resurface and flash a cocky smile and all — he no longer cared. He would have given anything at that moment for her to send a snarky grin her way.
Anything.
For if she could save him twice over now, then he at least owed it back once.
And, maybe he could finally learn her name as he did so.
