[ for a moment, obi-wan does nothing. all he can feel is the sun. it is not the light, just a facsimile of warmth he is trying to absorb, to hold his brittle parts together.
and.
his fingers move to lightly brush against vyng's palm, the beat of butterfly wings against destiny. ]
no subject
and.
his fingers move to lightly brush against vyng's palm, the beat of butterfly wings against destiny. ]