Vader drabble
Mar. 21st, 2005 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dangermousieOK, proof of my finally losing my mind. Vader/Padme. Sort of. I so did not get lj to just talk about SW. It just happened :)
He dreams of Padme. He dreams of having fingers. He dreams of feeling the wind on his skin, the sun on his face. It's been years and when he wakes he is impatient at the tenacity of the phantom memory. One would think the body, especially when regulated by a mind such as his, would forget and would face the reality by now.
As his armor is put on him, he analyzes this curious inconsistency because if he does, he will not need to think that he dreamt of Padme, again. He always dreams of her. Sometimes she is a child. Sometimes a presence around the corner of the next dream: a stranger with a familiar face, passing in a crowd. He is never involved in those dreams. She glides through them freely, no contact made, nor wanted. He never has nightmares anymore. If he cared for that sort of thing, he'd view it as proof of the rightness of his course. Some might argue it ironic. He merely accepts it as convenient.
He never thinks of her when his armor is on. Just as the presence of all that carefully regulated machinery is enough to supress even the most stubborn phantom memory of flesh: fingers, face, skin, his armor keeps Padme definitely out. But when the armor is off at night, she seems to glide in. He wishes it was possible to sleep in his armor, as he does not relish distractions.
Now the armor is all buckled on and he steps outside his room, ready for the day.
Last night he dreamt he had fingers. He dreamt of the wind on his skin, the sun on his face. He dreamt of a regal smile belied by mischivious eyes. For a moment, he is glad he can't sleep in his armor.
Then, the moment is gone.
He dreams of Padme. He dreams of having fingers. He dreams of feeling the wind on his skin, the sun on his face. It's been years and when he wakes he is impatient at the tenacity of the phantom memory. One would think the body, especially when regulated by a mind such as his, would forget and would face the reality by now.
As his armor is put on him, he analyzes this curious inconsistency because if he does, he will not need to think that he dreamt of Padme, again. He always dreams of her. Sometimes she is a child. Sometimes a presence around the corner of the next dream: a stranger with a familiar face, passing in a crowd. He is never involved in those dreams. She glides through them freely, no contact made, nor wanted. He never has nightmares anymore. If he cared for that sort of thing, he'd view it as proof of the rightness of his course. Some might argue it ironic. He merely accepts it as convenient.
He never thinks of her when his armor is on. Just as the presence of all that carefully regulated machinery is enough to supress even the most stubborn phantom memory of flesh: fingers, face, skin, his armor keeps Padme definitely out. But when the armor is off at night, she seems to glide in. He wishes it was possible to sleep in his armor, as he does not relish distractions.
Now the armor is all buckled on and he steps outside his room, ready for the day.
Last night he dreamt he had fingers. He dreamt of the wind on his skin, the sun on his face. He dreamt of a regal smile belied by mischivious eyes. For a moment, he is glad he can't sleep in his armor.
Then, the moment is gone.
