Work Text:
Her eyes are a tapestry, fragments of disparate colours woven together in an artistic whole.
Red is dominant. Sharp with anger, a cutting contempt that would carve me through, bleed me out like the lightsaber at my throat. It is the fire of revenge roaring deep in her chest, a dragon yearning to be unleashed.
That passion; that desire. Twisted with rage. I would hold it tight, caress it, stoke it, let it scratch me raw.
Then there is the gentle blue cresting like a wave, piercing the horizon. Such an independent spirit, curiosity bidding the anger to wait, think. To understand before it strikes.
That thoughtfulness. A keeness of sight so many others would shroud in darkness. It craves the light. I will guide it true in time.
But there is yellow brimming. A call for caution, stilling that blue, warning it of wanting to know more than it can handle. To be ware of questions it would pose, and warier of answers such would provoke.
It is buoyed by a trembling black, the darkest grief that would cast itself like a shadow over the whole of this masterpiece that is Osha. It pulses, a deep drumbeat of loss, pain, suffering. This inky ocean with no depth threatens an endless plunge into numb nothing.
It could drown her; it would drown a weaker soul.
But there is purple simmering, streams wending through the void. Power crackling at the edges, ready to overwhelm the others if only it could break through. And I will see it break through, tend to that dormant ambition like the promising garden it is.
A garden as green as that final colour hiding itself away in the corners, a fragile weaving of possibility, threads of new beginnings needing only the skilled hand to loose them.
A hand like mine which I lay so delicately on her arm before I whisper the words she needs so desperately to hear...
"But when you lose everything, that's when you are finally free."
And oh, how beautiful! That sudden spark of green and purple stitching a new design into the fabric of her eyes.