Young Blood

[Faily]

O’vala struck out with both her hands and wiggled her fingers at the boulder. Up until then, she had maintained her composure. But half an hour of constant back-and-forth between meditation and failure became too burdensome. “Move, you stupid rock! At least one of you little ones!” The youngling growled and kicked one of them. “Ouch!” She hopped away while grabbing onto her foot.

Big sis was able to move a boulder when she was a year younger than me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m Force Sensitive at all. The Mirialan shut her eyes, holding back tears of distress and pain. Soon it became apparent that this was not entirely her own.

“So this is where you went,” a familiar voice called to her. Avilea’s tone was laced with disappointment and it was difficult for O’vala to push it aside. “You know we were supposed to meet under the transit system today, right?” she continued, attempting to be playful, “Guess we’re lucky nobody else is here tonight.”

The Zeltron shut the door to the garden behind her and began removing her robe. What was underneath brought forth thoughts hard to suppress. Such tight leather, certainly unneeded in any Jedi’s possession.

We aren’t really Jedi yet, right?

O’vala turned her eyes away and took short, practiced breaths. “Avilea, could you please?” the Mirialan pleaded. She felt her hands tremble at her side, wanting to caress that pink skin again.

“Do what, exactly?” Avilea said, attempting to be coy. But the feeling of anxiety permeated the air, added on top of O’vala’s. “What’s on your mind?” she murmured when she was up close. Her hand hovered over, waiting for permission to brush away O’vala’s bobbed hair.

“Just stop!” O’vala stumbled back, keeping her footing due to instinct.

Avilea bit her lip and clenched her fists. “What?! Why don’t you care about me anymore?” Her eyes welled up with tears but she kept her chin high.

“That’s not fair and you know it.” O’vala took a few steps farther away. Farther away from the pheremones that had already permeated the room. “I do care.”

“Then why haven’t you talked to me?!”

“Because I knew this would happen! But you keep pushing and pushing, using your damn pheremones to get what you want!” O’vala’s heart sunk into her chest and she realized that Avilea’s anger had gotten the better of her too.

Avilea’s raised her fists in the air like a child throwing a tantrum before using her pent-up rage to toss the boulder to the side with the Force. “You know I’m not trying to! I thought you understood! That’s why I love you!”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments.” O’vala managed to smile. “I’m sorry for swaying you from the correct path.”

The Zeltron strode forward, reaching out to grasp the other girl’s hands. “O’vala, please. The masters are starting to catch on. They scold me for not suppressing my sadness because they can feel it change everything around me.”

Their hands interlocked for a brief moment. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” Avilea whispered.

O’vala pulled her hand away and hurried towards the door. “I’m sorry, but it’s nothing you did.” But she could not be sure that had been a lie. She wondered if they would have ever kissed if it had not been for the pheremones. But even so, how could they be in love and be Jedi? If one of them had to sacrifice themselves, then the other would be left so sad.

Her mind wracked as she tried to piece together the words. So instead, she exited the door and pressed on down the hall. She swore she heard sobbing echo down the chamber and hoped nobody else noticed.