Caring - Wullf Yularen (RotE)
Why was it that the rich, or at least well off, insisted on listening to music that would make even a krayt dragon cry? Plus the clothes, the required clothes for such events, were stiff, cut uncomfortably and they itched. The gentle squeeze on his hand and the smile she gave him however, made twelve year old Wullf sigh, grin and bear it. If only school were this easy to deal with.
They both had aged, her more then him, and it was readily apparent from her gaunt face, dim eyes. It caused him to ache at the sight, and to curse his superiors for pulling him off of Coruscant, out of his home, even after telling them he needed to stay, cursing the other men who should have been there for not being there, and himself for not being more vocal about his needs.
His mind was active with what-ifs, needing something to do to distract itself from the unsettling sight before him, and he unconsciously reached for her hand, squeezing it. His mind at a loss, Wullf did the first thing that came to him, and he sang. Not one of the war chants or bar songs or folks songs he had picked up in his travels, but one of those concert songs he had been forced to listen to live growing up, one of the songs he had cursed the very woman in front of him for dragging him to listen to.
As he sang, his voice barely able to form the words as his mind got distracted, as his confidence started to fail he noticed it. That glimmer of life in her eyes, that half-smile and the rose color in her cheeks, and he smiled. Some things were worth the discomfort, especially in times of need.
They both had aged, her more then him, and it was readily apparent from her gaunt face, dim eyes. It caused him to ache at the sight, and to curse his superiors for pulling him off of Coruscant, out of his home, even after telling them he needed to stay, cursing the other men who should have been there for not being there, and himself for not being more vocal about his needs.
His mind was active with what-ifs, needing something to do to distract itself from the unsettling sight before him, and he unconsciously reached for her hand, squeezing it. His mind at a loss, Wullf did the first thing that came to him, and he sang. Not one of the war chants or bar songs or folks songs he had picked up in his travels, but one of those concert songs he had been forced to listen to live growing up, one of the songs he had cursed the very woman in front of him for dragging him to listen to.
As he sang, his voice barely able to form the words as his mind got distracted, as his confidence started to fail he noticed it. That glimmer of life in her eyes, that half-smile and the rose color in her cheeks, and he smiled. Some things were worth the discomfort, especially in times of need.