Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

3 | And I, You

Song: "The Scavenger" from The Force Awakens OST

In the homey warmth of a Kaleesh morning at the equatorial port of Jenuwaa-Khot, the sunrise played with the threads of the clouds as brilliant shades of kindled red and gold splashed across the horizon. Echoes of Kowakian monkey-lizards, the silent prance of mumuui, and rustles of the thousand species of insects echoed throughout a small war camp.

Qymaen spoke quietly. "This move isn't wise, Ronderu." Lowering himself to sit on the flimsy wood of the dock, he dipped his scaly toes into the serene waves of the sea as they sat together by the shore.

"The Yam'rii chose to invade the temple," she pointed out, taking her place next to him. The wind picked up the breeze on her dark, unruly hair, causing it to move like a flag of black ocean veins in the morning air. "They can't be allowed to flourish."

He leaned his head back, letting the morning sun blaze against his mask. "But to take only a few men to combat them is foolish. We are able to take more; why don't we?"

"The situation is under control."

He sighed a cool, soft breath as she touched their bone masks together, entwining their hands. The gold scales of her hands traced the dark roughness of his. As if seeing straight through him, she turned her eyes to his. That gaze contained a thousand emotions, feelings, experiences-all that made up the mystery of Ronderu lij Kummar.

"In either case, I will always protect you."

"And I, you." Her eyes flashed. "You're not wearing your armor, are you?"

He made a face before answering slowly. "No....why do you ask?"

She jammed her hands beneath his arms and tickled him. Yelping, he fell downward, writhing to escape her grip. By the time she finally stopped, both of them were breathless with giggles.

"Think of it," she said, laying on top of him, trapping his chest between her knees. She waved her hands in grandiose gestures. "You'll get to endure this every karking day once we're married! Doesn't it sound exciting?"

"It'll be less exciting when I throw you out the window," he grunted.

She gave a soft laugh and touched where his nose would be under his mask. "Don't try it."

"Oh, I will." His hands crept toward her armpits. "And once I do, you won't be able to stop me."

And he turned the tables on her, wrenching laughter out of her as she rolled off of him, gasping for air. He moved his assault down to her stomach, and while she was even more ticklish there, he regretted it as soon as her fist nearly punched one of his tusks off.

He pulled her up. "Let's go to the place we did when we were young," he said. "Follow me."

✺✺✺

He ran hand-in-hand with her down to an area of the camp obscured by the jungle willows that grew like a dome over the waist-deep water. In the distance, a non-sentient reptilian species crowed in the morning dawn.

Leaving their outer clothes on the bank of the sea, keeping themselves wrapped in the soft linen clothes made specifically for modesty, they intended to stay in the water together. She stepped gracefully into the sea to meet him, letting the ends of her hair dip into the tangy current.

Her arms found his shoulders, and they held each other silently, waist-deep in water and letting moisture from the trees drip down their faces. She always smelled like trees, flowers and soil-the mother of nature, so familiar with the wild and willing to teach him about it.