The Shadow of the Day
He gave a derisive snort, as if he couldn’t decide if he was flattered or annoyed by the girl’s attraction. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t grown used to it by now— Jedi Knights were romantic figures, after all, thanks to the way millennia of stories had painted them— but he didn’t have the mind for it in Satine’s presence. There was no one remotely comparable when he was here with her and she was painted in the light of morning as she sat over him in the bed.
He would never quite get used to the idea of having servants. It was the Jedi way to take care of himself, and to never burden others with personal duties like breakfast or laundry. But things were different in the palace, and he would have to accept that.
“You look beautiful this morning,” he said after a moment.
She brushed a hand over his face. ”You are full of flattery as ever, Obi-Wan. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
Satine revelled in the idea that she got to touch him. She indulged in it. Not usually the type for romantic notions, she let herself exist in this moment wholly. ”True will be bringing you clothes for the day, or the duration of your stay if you would like to try something other than beige.” She ran her hand down to touch his beard with curious fingers.
“You’re more romantic than you let on,” he said teasingly, giving a wry smile and catching her hand so he could kiss her fingers. Her entire body was exquisite, but her graceful, expressive hands were one of his favorite parts of it.
He watched her face as she ran her fingers across his beard, as though she was testing it. He could tell she didn’t like it, which was unfortunate; still, he stubbornly refused to shave it, even for her. And the mention of wearing something other than beige just brought a displeased grimace to his face. “Like what? Black, white? Blue? Beige suits me just fine, thank you.”
He sat up in bed, keeping the sheets modestly up high around his hips, knowing that the handmaiden would be returning soon. “You, on the other hand…” He ran his hand up the silky sleeve of her purple dressing gown, eyeing the low neckline covetously. “I have yet to see you in a color I didn’t like.”
