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When You Pry it From My Cold, Dead Chest by Anath_Tsurugi
Fandoms: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
22 Oct 2018
Tags
Summary
Every race in the galaxy that is soulbound has its own way of identifying soulmates. Humans have fated words imprinted on their skin. Twi'leks and Togruta hear the voices of their partners in their dreams. Wookiees and Lasat see the world in black and white until the moment they meet their partner.
Kallus liked to tell himself he'd long since ceased to think about the words inked onto his forearm in deep violet, partly obscured by the angry scars from a Lasat's claws. But the truth was he knew them perfectly. He could picture every hard line and soft curl of each beautiful letter, as if some vindictive god had written the words out with a delicate hand, but with angry strokes, the words just as much a blessing as they were a curse.
'Only the Honor Guard of Lasan may carry a bo-rifle!'
Zeb had believed in the dream of a soulmate all his life, watching with joy as his sisters' worlds blossomed into color, waiting impatiently for the day when he might see the galaxy through new eyes. Didn't it just figure that on the very day everything he'd ever known was going up in ash and smoke, his own world would suddenly burst into colors he didn't want, all from a single glimpse of one young Imperial.
Series
- Part 1 of Love Is the Answer