Satine doesn't notice the flowers or the plants growing all around them. She is too concerned with the texture of his robe, the grey of his hair. It had only been two years, and still he looked so much older.

Worry began to grow in her chest as she gripped at his shoulders, gently taking a step back to look him in the face. It was odd, she must admit, that he returned her embrace. But this Obi Wan was two years older than when she had...

Phantom hands grip tightly at her throat, dragging her forward. A hum of a red blade piercing her back. She grips tight, until a surge of what feels like static comes from her hands, shocking them both.

She steps back from his grasp instantly, trying to smooth her hair, trying not to touch him.

"Forgive me, I'm... still acclimating to this world and the new challenges it brings..."