Han wakes, dizzy and drunk on dreams sweeter than wine. All the world is softness, and warmth, and peace. The woven texture of the blanket on her bare shoulder feels all the richer, for the softness of silk against her chest. The light chill of the early morning - so early, that even the birds are slow to sing - makes her sink all the deeper into a cocoon of warmth. She squeezes, gently, and presses the girl in her arms flush against her. Body and silk, heat and heartbeat, she is here, she is here, she is [i]hers.[/i] Bliss. Simple, perfect, bliss. Her shimmering, gorgeous hair is an ocean, all for her. She dives into its depths, drinking deep of heady, sweet flowers. Laughter bubbles up out of her, a burbling little rumble in her chest. The world is quiet here. She could lie like this forever, and that’d be okay.

She passes from the waters. Her vision fills with Lotus’ bare neck.

Her mouth clamps shut. Inside the horrified stillness of her mind, she notes the course pants brushing against her legs, the priestess silks still wrapped around Lotus. Then, only then, does she breathe. Through her nose, only, sharp and shuddering. Not a whisper of breath on Lotus’ skin to wake her. She can’t see her face. She can hear her snoring. She’s still asleep. She can’t see her face. She can’t see her own face. She only remembers talking, and hugging, and falling asleep. But she can’t see her face. She can’t know. She can’t know until she looks. She needs to look. She needs to know. She needs to

kiss her

A fire, in her heart, in her blood, screaming to kiss her. Kiss her. The feel of her lips on your neck. Kiss her. Lost, and moaning. Kiss her. Kiss her. Melting mindless in Emli’s arms. [i]Kiss her.[/i]

She doesn’t move a muscle. She can’t. She [i]can’t.[/i] She’s burning alive but she [i]can’t.[/i] They need to see the waterfall. There’s flowers to weave in her hair. There’s a city, where they can be anything they want, just for a day. She [i]can’t.[/i] She promised Lotus would see them all. She’d get her there safe. She’d protect her.

Even from herself.

The reward for her steadfastness is agony. To flee the neck, she must resist the jaw. To flee the jaw, she must resist the cheek. To flee the cheek, she must part her lips and [i]only[/i] whisper into a delicate ear.

“Hey? Bud? S’time to get up.”

Turns out, it’s rather difficult to talk when you can hardly breathe. She nudges her, which is to say, her arm trembles, and the bundle of girl shifts a hair.

“Early start. C’mon. We gotta go.”