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cycian · 8 months

Note

Starfield request: Andreja preparing to cook a meal for everyone in the lodge, whatever that entails in your imagination. Perhaps Sarah is also around to help, which again, is up to you how that plays out.

I lost control. 4.9k words under the readmore, Andreja/Sarah pairing. Sorry not sorry. Will be posted to ao3 after some editing within the week. Oopsie doopsie, love you Ronqueesha but you knew precisely what this ask would do to me lol.

Blurring lines

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of eating nothing but takeout, deliveries. Countless Chunks menus had been ordered and promptly devoured by the ravenous Constellation members.

Sarah could hardly believe it as she added the expenses onto the budget. Until now, she hadn't realised that Barrett's favorite past time had been a blessing upon their budget, stomachs and waistlines.

Across from her, Andreja idly sharpened her blade, her eyes drifting around the warm light of day that filtered through the small greenhouse.

"I can't believe I'm going to have to say it, but Barrett's cooking is a cornerstone of our Lodge section of the budget." Sarah said, mostly to herself, as she hadn't expected Andreja to be paying attention to her mumblings and ravings.

The blade stopped on its block for an instant, before resuming its dance.

Sarah thought no more of it.

Until midnight struck.

She had moved from the pleasant warmth of the greenhouse for the quiet chaos of her room/office. She knew that if Noel were to catch her working so late, she'd get chastised. She was fine, she thought. Even if Sarah attempted to sleep, the nightmares would wake her up--might as well be productive.

She went down to the kitchen, located in the basement (Walter, why?), with the intent of indulging in more caffeine, only to be interrupted by curses hushed in the dead of night, in a tongue that she did not recognize. The voice, however, was very familiar to Sarah. She tried to silence her steps to figure out what was bothering Andreja to the point of using expletives, only to find the Va’ruun woman covered from head to toe in flour.

Sarah Morgan was not exactly known for being ‘stealthy’ or discreet or even remotely ‘subtle’. She was, at best, a terrormorph in a china shop. Despite her best efforts, she could not manage to repress the undignified snort that escaped her.

Andreja’s eyes snapped to her, narrowed into dark slits, before softening as the leader of Constellation stepped towards the light, clad in her very elegant pajamas. An old UC vanguard shirt, fraying at the edges (an umpteenth attempt from John to get her to enlist again) and her blue checkered pajama pants that bore countless coffee stains. Somehow, she felt underdressed, compared to Andreja and her endless supply of Va’ruun outfits, despite the former smuggler being covered in flour.

Sarah wondered how it was possible to always look so…stunning. Even looking like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar, covered in flour in the late hours of the night, Andreja looked stunning as she attempted to pat the flour out of her clothes.

“Do not worry about the mess, Miss Morgan. I will clean this up. My apologies. I hope I did not wake you up.” Andreja’s words broke Sarah out of her daydream, forcing her to tear her eyes away from the defined biceps.

“Don’t worry about it, Andreja, I haven’t gone to bed yet.” She wiggled her favorite mug (it had one particularly cute cat drawn on it), moving past the flour-covered woman to pour herself more coffee. Sarah raised her eyebrow. The pot was empty. She usually was the one to siphon it throughout the night but—

“You don’t usually stay up this late. I hope everything is okay.” Sarah asked as she poured some water into the coffee maker, before adding some grounds. Some more patting sounds came from behind her, and as the machine came to life, Sarah turned around, only to find Andreja staring at the kitchen with a menacing glare.

“I am fine, Miss Morgan.” Poor thing. Even her back was covered in flour. Sarah carefully approached her, slowly letting her hand rest on Andreja’s shoulder and pushing the younger woman to look at her.

Andreja looked down, her eyes finally meeting Sarah’s. The Chair of Constellation was not used to looking up at someone—she usually towered over most people she met. But Andreja was tall. And not just lanky tall, either. She reminded Sarah of the stories she’d read about in books, about Amazonians of incredibly heights, strength and determination. Every inch of her was like a blade. Her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut, her eyes piercing like a knife’s tip, her body ever-coiled like a snake awaiting the occasion to strike. Even now, she felt those muscles tense under her touch.

“Miss Morgan?” Andreja tilted her head to the side quizzically, flour streaking her pitch-black hair. Sarah cursed herself internally.

“Sorry, lack of sleep can make me a little…disconnected.” Her hand moved off of Andreja’s shoulder, before hovering next to her hair. “May I help you with the flour situation? I wouldn’t want you to lose one of your garbs to pesky flour.”

Andreja nodded, a small smile lighting up her face. Sarah gently brushed the flour away from the Va’runn’s hair. How was it so soft? It was like touching silk, or a gentle stream.

“Ashta oil, mostly. Sam was kind enough to provide me with some.” Andreja explained while Sarah Morgan was busy wondering if the filter between her brain and her mouth had fully malfunctioned. Thankfully, Andreja did not seem to mind or care too much as she let Sarah pat her down.

“Well, at least, you can rest assured that white hair will suit you.” Sarah said, holding a strand of flour-covered hair.

Andreja’s lips tightened in a polite smile, before taking a step back. Sarah did not mind in the slightest. Nor was she shocked. Andreja had been here for well over a year, yet it was always two steps forward and one step back with her. She reminded Sarah of the black cat on her cup. Hard to predict, always on her guard, never knowing if she was about to cozy up to you or about to bolt.

“I suppose you must be wondering why I was in such a…situation.” Andreja broke the silence as Sarah stopped the coffee maker, pouring herself a cup, before turning around, coffee pot in hand. Andreja nodded, before retrieving one of the generic mugs that they kept in storage for the few visitors that sometimes came by the Lodge.

“I stopped asking our dear colleagues what they were up to, when caught in strange situations, about seven years ago. Better this way.” Sarah still remembered the five-hour tale Barrett weaved when she asked him why he hung his socks in the greenhouse.

Andreja nodded, letting Sarah pour her a cup of coffee, before leaning her hip against the counter.

“An unusual group of people, getting up to unusual activities. Hardly surprising. In my case, I was attempting something… mundane.”

“I’m guessing you were cooking.”

“Trying to.” Andreja gestured to her black garb, still bearing some faint traces of flour. Sarah gently brushed away some that lingered on Andreja’s thigh. “I know that Barrett’s absence is a strain on our budget—and morale. I wondered if perhaps I could attempt to replicate one of his recipes. He was kind enough to provide me with access to his cooking slates, but they’ve proven…challenging.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. Barrett’s recipes were his only secret. Even Noel had been forbidden from ever accessing this treasure. Sarah never bothered asking—cooking was not really something that interested her much.

“You seem surprised. I suppose that a smuggler covered in flour is surprising.” Andreja said, her voice uncharacteristically meek. Sarah pursed her lips.

“Former smuggler. And I am happy whenever a Constellation member decides to learn a new skillset. No teasing from me, Andreja, I promise. What were you trying to cook? Surely Barrett’s recipe can’t be that complicated.”

Oh, how wrong she had been.

Cursed be Barrett, and the amped-up hare that he had in place of a functioning brain.

The recipe’s title was simple enough. Homemade pasta with tomato sauce. However, the more she read on the data slate, the stronger the chance of a headache became. Barrett spent the two first pages of the slate describing the history of Italy and southern European Old Earth delights. He somehow managed to get lost within his historical ramblings, before even providing a list of the ingredients. With every line, the urge to hunt Barrett down and force him to be coherent became stronger. The instructions were hidden in between paragraphs of Barrett waxing poetry about the consistency of the dough (soft as a summer’s day and firm as a lover’s embrace was NOT helpful) and doodles of Constellation members.

Sarah set down the data slate, before pinching the bridge of her nose.

“He is certainly passionate about cooking.” Andreja offered, while Sarah was contemplating telling Andreja to just order from yet another restaurant. But she couldn’t. Because when she turned around, she was met with knee-buckling soft brown eyes staring down at her.

“We are explorers. We spend our lives deciphering the Universe’s secret. Surely, we can wing a pasta recipe and get away with it.”

Andreja always tried to keep an eye on the time. It was an old habit that refused to die. Keeping track of time helped her know when a patrol might be coming by, or if she’d stayed in the same area for too long. However, in the dimly lit basement, with Sarah’s chuckles and occasional grumbles of discontentment, time had lost all meaning. They’d started over at least a dozen times. She was certain that the budget had yet suffered another blow, as they cracked open egg after egg, bags of flour hastily thrown in the garbage disposal after each failed attempt.

When Sarah had found her, she had been ready to give up. Yet, the coffee and company kept her going. Try after try, Andreja found that she cared little if the food turned out edible or not.

Because right next to her, perched on a camping chair, the Chair of Constellation, clad in her pajamas, was reading her a magazine.

It was hardly interesting. Just the New Atlantis daily. But what was interesting to Andreja, was to see Sarah come to life. Her eyes lit up as she told her that she had to visit the UC Museum (she’d rather die) or that they could go together (she’d love that). Sarah Morgan came alive when passion was involved. She sat up straighter, her hands dancing in the dim light as she described the first plant that sent her to the hospital and prompted her to take an interest in botany. Her voice, usually restrained to one precise register, one of calm and authority, would soar between highs (she was rather passionate about Old Earth pets) and rumblings lows (she did not seem to want to discuss her past with the UC).

The knowledge and worship of the Great Serpent had always brought her peace. It was an eternal, universal law. In a galaxy full of ever-changing tangents, it was her rock. Yet, as Sarah’s eyes started to droop, her temples resting on her closed fist, Andreja felt a brush of serenity pass her by.

It was how Noel found them. Passed out on camping chairs, in the early hours of the morning, boiling the galaxy’s worst pasta. Years of training had honed Andreja’s senses, yet, she did not even stir as the scientist retreated up the stairs, leaving a note on the door to not enter the basement until noon.

Thankfully, she did not sleep in that late.

Sounds of distress roused her from her sleep, only to find that the source was none other than Miss Morgan, her brow covered in a gleam of sweat. Andreja was no stranger to those demons that only came to those that had felt the fires of life’s kiss and had been left charred. She brought her hand close to Miss Morgan’s forehead, afraid to touch those golden and silver strands of hair that stuck to her forehead, before settling for her shoulder.

Miss Morgan had touched her shoulders before, it was alright, yes? It had comforted Andreja, had made her feel warm. Surely, it would help.

She gently squeezed her shoulder.

“Miss Morgan, wake up.” She spoke softly, afraid of scaring the blonde woman who writhed under Andreja’s robe’s overlayer. Miss Morgan’s hand grabbed hers, with such despair, even unconscious, that shattered Andreja’s heart. Andreja let her free hand rest atop hers, clutching it tight. “It’s me, Andreja.”

“Andreja.” Sarah repeated, her voice hoarse. She finally opened her eyes, green meeting dark brown. Her eyes widened, looking everywhere frantically.

“Calm down, you are safe, we are in the Lodge’s basement. You are safe.” She repeated. Sarah let her head fall back down against the chair, her free hand combing through her hair. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, that she fought against. Andreja was familiar with this feeling. She leaned forward, slowly enough to give Miss Morgan plenty of opportunity to back away. She brought their conjoined hands to her own chest, taking deep, calming breaths. She let her forehead rest against Miss Morgan’s.

Andreja kept her eyes firmly set on the blonde woman. Miss Morgan’s hands entangled themselves from Andreja’s, shaking as she set them on her lap, her eyes softly opening. Although Andreja had spent more time than she would be willing to admit looking at the Chair, she still could not place the color of her eyes. Sometimes, they would be piercing blue, reminiscent of lakes on deep freeze planets, or forest green, so akin to fresh leaves as spring thawed nature.

In that dimly lit basement, they were of a blue so deep that Andreja was afraid that she might drown in them, her breath hitching as they locked eyes. For an instant, Andreja felt eternity as their eyes bore and blended in one another, before Miss Morgan pulled away.

“I…I am so sorry, Andreja. It shall not happen again, don’t worry,” The Chair spoke, as she pushed the chair back, getting out of the chair as fast as her legs would allow her. Andreja kept a hand out to stabilize her as Miss Morgan swayed on her feet, her hair sticking out in pikes and cowlicks that defied gravity. “I thank you for your help and I’ll—I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Before Andreja even had the chance to speak, the Chair bolted out of the basement as if pursued by a dozen terrormorphs, leaving a trail of flour on the flour, her favorite mug on the counter and an incredibly perplexed Andreja behind.

Sarah Morgan was mortified.

For a couple of reasons. Firstly, she’d been rash to a woman who had been kind and understanding to her. Secondly, in her haste to leave the premises, she had failed to notice that Andreja unfurled the cloth that she usually wore wrapped around her hips and over her shoulder, and had wrapped her in it. Which meant that Sam and Walter somersaulted to conclusions, with such vivacity and fervor that before Sarah could even make her way up the stairs, Vladimir had heard of it. Not only had he heard of it, but he had also already messaged her.

Threatening her to not even think of hurting Andreja’s feelings. And to do right by her.

Aja often told her that Constellation’s lines between work and family had blended the instant Banks had founded their organization. Sarah did not think much of it. She thought that she was good enough at separating her work/life balance that blurred lines would never be much of an issue for her.

Third reason for Sarah Morgan’s mortification: she could not, for the life of her, summon the willpower to remove Andreja’s cloth. It smelled just like her. A subtle drifting smell of something sharp like iron and a wafting, warm amber fragrance with hints of patchouli.

Sarah let herself fall upon her bed, after pushing the data slates of the unoccupied side. Maybe her work/life balance was not perfect.

Perhaps lines were starting to blur.

But despite the furious flush on her lips from her colleagues’ teasing, she could not find it in herself to stop a smile from creeping across her lips as she lifted Andreja’s cloth to her face.

Andreja watched, not without satisfaction, as her crepe browned in the pan. She had started to decipher Barrett’s recipe reliably enough to attempt the simplest recipes on his slates. The first one had not come out as expected—according to Vladimir, who had called her and decided to linger on the comms for a dozen minutes, it was a normal occurrence. He sounded happier than usual as he regaled her with tales of the deepest confines of space while she whisked the batter. But soon as the door to the basement opened, he excused himself, without finishing his story.

A shame. It had Aceles. Andreja loved Aceles.

“I am still not interested in a drink, Sam. But thank you all the same.” Andreja spoke over her shoulder, before flipping the crepe over once again. No response. Andreja turned her head, only to be greeted by Sarah Morgan, who held her neatly folded garb in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Not wine to be drunk from a straw. Wine with a cork, a corkscrew even poking out from the inside pocket of Miss Morgan’s jacket.

“Should I take that as a no to wine?” The Chair asked and though a smile was upon her lips, Andreja could see the tightness in her eyes. She shook her head and beckoned Miss Morgan closer.

“Expensive wine? What a rare treat, Miss Morgan. Have you given up on our budget altogether, then?” Andreja asked as she slid the crepe onto a plate, before pouring more batter into the pan. She heard a bottle being set down and a table being dragged. She heard her rummage through cupboards, before she finally turned around.

Miss Morgan had set up a table for two. A flower, bright purple, had found herself planted in a vase in the middle of the table, accompanied by the bottle of wine. Andreja’s garb had been set aside next to her mug, which had been refilled with warm coffee. Andreja watched as the Chair of Constellation, the fearless explorer that was Sarah Morgan, fretted over the napkins that she was attempting to fold in the shape of a flower. The result was less than picture perfect—Andreja loved it. She could not help but beam as Sarah proudly held the folded napkin in her hand.

Sarah Morgan loved the sound of wildlife chirping as daylight brought them out of their slumber. She loved the hum of a grav drive right before a jump. She found that the sound of Andreja laughing instantly beat all of her previous favorites. It made it all worth it. The long talk she had about Sam Coe on how to apologize to pretty women (he was an expert), the hour spent picking wine with Walter (he was an expert) and picking up an outfit (Noel and Matteo were useless but supportive). It was worth it because Andreja laughed as she folded her napkins to the best of her abilities. She’d watched a tutorial on how to make one in the shape of an Aceles, but was quickly humbled.

“I owe you an apology,” Sarah said as she set down the napkins, smoothing over her blue shirt. “It was inconsiderate of me, I just…”

Andreja held up a hand. “You owe me nothing. There is nothing that you must justify to me, unless you wish to.”

Sarah let out a breath that she had been holding for the last two decades, running a hand through the strands where silver and gold mingled freely. She let her shoulders sag. Andreja had seen her as she was. Tired. Irrational, sometimes. Prone to fleeing the instant any emotion went past what Sarah was comfortable with. Endlessly running towards the horizon, never daring to look back in fear of what she would find.

And still, she stayed.

Sarah Morgan took a step forward, past Andreja as she grabbed the pan’s handle. She gave it a quick shake, before beckoning Andreja closer.

“My parents were diplomats,” She began, feeling her voice weaken as it fought against the things it had kept quiet for so long. “My father was quite fond of crepes, he even tried to show me how to make them. I was never quite good but—”

She stepped back and directed Andreja’s hand to hold the handle just as she had, before wrapping her arms around the Va’ruun, her hands on Andreja’s. She felt the younger woman tense underneath her touch, before softening and gently leaning against her.

“Give it a tug, get the crepe unstuck. There you go, now, we’re going to do a sautee motion, push the pan forward, up, then back towards you quickly. Follow my movement.” In one swift motion, the crepe flew towards the ceiling, before landing back into the pan, perfectly flipped.

Andreja had watched with a hint of mirth as the crepe flew, a slow giggle slipping past her lips. But all Sarah could look at was her, at the smile held back with a hint of teeth, the way her eyes squinted, the hint of a crow’s nest forming at the corners of her eyes. The small smile line starting to make itself apparent.

“Thank you… Sarah.”

Just hearing her name from Andreja’s lips sent goosebumps all the way down to her arms—she hoped that Andreja hadn’t noticed as Sarah pulled away, nodding to the pan.

“Come on, give it a try.”

“I am afraid I might make a mess of it.”

“Look at my ‘flower’, it’s not exactly perfect, is it? Nothing has to be perfect. It just has to be.” Sarah encouraged her. Andreja nodded, before grabbing the handle, giving it a few tentative sweeps, before attempting to flip the crepe.

Sarah watched as the crepe soared in her direction, almost hitting her across the face. Thankfully, her reflexes were sharp. She caught it, twirling it in her hands, throwing it from hand to hand as it was still very much hot from the pan. Though Andreja’s skin was too dark for a blush to be visible, it was easy to tell that the Va’ruun was flustered, as her wide eyes seemingly couldn’t even blink anymore.

Sarah threw her a cheeky wink, before tearing the crepe and throwing it in the air, attempting to catch it with her mouth. She slid on her knees, ignoring the pain in her lower back (God, she wasn’t in her thirties anymore, and her body never failed to remind her), as the crepe fell in her mouth.

Andreja cackled, clapping her hands as Sarah rose to her knees, munching through her half with as much dignity as she could muster. She offered her audience a small bow.

“I did not know that you were so… silly.” Andreja said, a wide smile on her lips.

Darling, even I forgot that part of me.

But it was not the time to explain that with decades of self-set expectations to meet, with the scars that littered her body and mind, she’d let a rift grow between herself and the rest of the universe—friend or foe alike. Because Andreja had told her that she had no need to explain herself, unless she willed it. And tonight, just tonight, she wanted to be Sarah and Andreja, sharing crepes and wine. But deep down, she knew that when the abyss, the same that stared back every time she closed her eyes, would call her again, she knew what’d she do. She wouldn’t shy away from kind hands that would lead her to their own heartbeat to steady hers.

That night, she just said:

“Want to try?”

And she watched with glee as Andreja, the best shot she’d ever met, the sturdiest, steadiest and strongest person she’d ever met, throw a crepe up in the air and swallow it like an Old Earth seagull.

Though none of them were known for being the chattiest members of Constellation, every breath was spent on a tale, and when words ebbed, wine flowed. Andreja told her of her homeland, of the cities that lingered on the edge of the desert where she’d grown, of the pet she’d raised and slaughtered and the dagger she’d fashioned out of its skull. Of the tall beasts that would sometimes cross into their territory but that had fascinated her as a child. On an unfolded napkin, she’d drawn the outline of the beast, eyes closed in concentration, the tip of her pen dancing on cloth as she regaled Sarah with the uses for their venoms and chitin. It had reminded Sarah of scorpions, an old earth creature and they’d made plans to watch a documentary on the creatures of the desert from Sarah’s personal collection.

Sarah told her of her father’s smile, omitting his scorn. She told Andreja of his smooth hands as he pushed her on the swing, of the flaming passion for peace that got him out of bed. She spoke of her mother’s kindness and tendency to berate young Sarah for tracking mud everywhere she went.

The words they shared, those wounds that they willingly re-opened with kind hands, guided them through the night and the stack of crepes that they packed and put away for the others to enjoy in the morning.

They laughed, and for an instant, Andreja felt the caress of a youth that had been taken away from her before she could even think about enjoying it. And for an instant, Sarah Morgan’s eyes left the horizon, to instead appreciate what had been right in front of her all along.

Andreja offered to stay behind and clean up—she was starting to enjoy the freedom of a night owl. Sarah’s hand lingered on her forearm.

“If you have trouble sleeping… Come find me, Sarah.” Andreja’s tone did not offer Sarah the luxury of argumentation as her hand rested upon Sarah’s. She nodded, letting herself drift slowly into Andreja’s arms.

Andreja’s arms wrapped themselves around her, pulling her close. Words were wildly unnecessary by that point. No word could do justice to the quiet adoration pooling in Andreja’s eyes and the ever-burning fire rekindled in Sarah’s own. Sarah lifted herself on her tiptoes, letting Andreja handle the brunt of her weight as she wrapped her arms around Andreja’s neck, bringing her close, to her neck.

Andreja nuzzled in, a small peck on Sarah’s neck leaving a ripple of goosebumps to dance along her skin, echoed by Andreja’s own skin. Sarah’s hand tilted Andreja’s chin, letting herself get lost.

A small kiss, chaste, but oh, so electric. An instant that lasted an eternity and tasted of amber and wine. A lingering look, one that they were not willing to break, as Sarah retreated up the stairs, entirely forgetting her red leather jacket on her chair.

She let the door close behind her as she slid against it, her eyes fluttering close. One sweet kiss, the promise of so much more to come. She let herself bask in the glow as she rose to her knees. As she climbed up the stairs, she was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

All around the Lodge’s main room, members were pretending to busy themselves. Cora was fast asleep on the sofa as Sam pretended to read a manual on astrophysics, while Matteo, next to him, was polishing his nails. Walter was sipping on a cognac, a book on his lap and a smile on his lips. Noel, with the subtlety of an Aceles whose testicles had been bitten in a china shop, leant against the doorframe and almost slipped, before asking.

Sarah couldn’t keep it at bay. Not after today. Not while she could still smell Andreja’s perfume on her skin and the taste of her lips on hers. Her face broke into a grin.

“It went amazingly. Thank you for your help, everyone.”

To her utmost discomfort, the Constellation members erupted into whoops, Noel all but grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking her vigorously, as if she were an athlete bringing home an impressive trophy.

Sarah raised her voices, hushing them down with her hands.

“Calm down, please! This is not a fraternity house!” She chided.

“But you got some!” Sam counter-attacked, his hands covering Cora’s ears, though the child could sleep through anything.

“What, no I did not, we just kissed.”

“Wait, so you guys locked me in my room all day just so they could kiss?” A voice rang from upstairs.

“Barrett!? You’re back?” Sarah looked, bewildered as the source of fifty percent of their ransom budget peaked his head over the balcony.

“Honestly, just for your face right now, worth it.”

The lines were blurring, Sarah thought, as she received claps on her backs and a beer was thrusted in her hands. But perhaps she needed friends more than she needed colleagues.

#starfield #andreja #sarah morgan #andrejarah #yeah im declaring this ship to be andrejarah sue me #starfield prompt fill

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cycian · 8 months

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They're on a date

#starfield #sarah morgan #andreja #Sarandreja #Andrejarah #Had the companion walking away while talking but i choose to believe that Andreja stole my girl

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cycian · 7 months

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The voices won, I'm writing a multi-chapter Andreja/Sarah fic. Here's the link!

#starfield #sarah morgan #andreja #Sarandreja #Andrejarah #I lost my mind and have three more chapters fully written and THE VOICES

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cycian · 8 months

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Sarah and Constellation build the Armillary and prepare for the Unity. At the last minute, Andreja desperately begs Sarah not to go

I love angst so much. I also love giving angst happy endings. Teehee. 3k words under the cut:

Ad Astra, ya amar

It had been a moment a long time in the making. No expense had been spared. Credits poured into the project, hours turned into days, then months, until the year had passed them by. Nothing had been left to chance. No question left unanswered.

Andreja set the final slate on her desk, letting the tip of her pen rest against the slate as she signed her name for the last time in this cycle. She unsheathed her blade, testing its weight in her palm. Her eyes closed. A long breath out of her chest. It was time.

She opened the door. It was eerie, how one tended to linger on details as they prepared to leave a place, never to return. The floorboard that always creaked. It had irked Andreja to no end, but now, she was glad that Walter never had it fixed. She let her foot rest against the wood, pressing down, letting its creak echo.

Her steps took her to Sarah’s bedroom. Inside, she heard the Chair rummage around her desk. Andreja leant against the wall, her eyes drifting to Noel’s bedroom.

Last night had been hard. They had made their choice long ago. A year and seven months ago, precisely. Everyone knew that there would come a time to bid each other farewell as the Unity beckoned. But for some reason, it had hit them collectively last night. Silence had hung heavy in the bar as outrageously expensive beverages were brought forth. Tears and liquors alike had been split, but none took it as hard as Noel. The poor scientist had laughed through her sobs during almost the entirety of the evening. As they had parted for the night, those that would remain in this Universe had chosen to remain awake whilst Andreja, Barrett, Sam, Sarah, Cora and the Silent Spacefarer prepared for their final journey together.

Noel had crushed Andreja in a desperate hug.

Even in the early morning’s quietness, Andreja could hear muffled sniffles on the other side of the door. She swore to herself that no matter what universe she would end up in, she would put a smile on every Noel’s face.

The door opened.

“There you are.” Sarah breathed out. Andreja raised her eyebrows, but still accepted her beloved’s embrace. She let her arms wrap around Sarah as the older woman buried her face in her neck. “I know you wouldn’t get cold feet but…”

“I am here.” Andreja tightened her hold. One last morning. No matter how hard she tried, the clock kept ticking in her head. Two hours and seven minutes until departure. Two hours and seven minutes of her love, until infinity tore them apart.

“I’ll find you,” Sarah entangled herself from Andreja, remaining in her arms as she tucked a stray stand of hair behind Andreja’s ear. She let her palm linger on her cheek, gently cupping it. “Wherever I end up, all my paths lead to you.”

Andreja closed her eyes, feeling a forlorn tear tug apart the seams of her heart. She would love to believe Sarah—or more accurately, she believed that Sarah believed in her words. But there was a difference between what one wants and what one gets.

“I know,” She lied. “And mine, to you. Always.” Andreja brought her forehead to Sarah’s letting silence overtake them.

What could she say that she had not said a thousand times before? She had told her that she loved her more than the grass loved the sun, that she loved her with the same loyalty as the waves love the sand and the pull of gravity. There was not a secret that remained, none that had not been bared in quiet nights of contemplation, when the tongue loosens and painful truths slip out.

Actually, one secret. One so hideous and vile that Andreja had not even realized that such sentiment had grown.

She did not want her to go.

“Sarah?”

Her bondmate hummed, her green eyes flitting open. How soft it is, how comforting it is, to be beheld by eyes that hold nothing but love and affection.

“Sarah, promise me that when we start up the Armillary, you will not look back at me.” Andreja felt a tight knot restrain her breathing. Her face started to burn and she felt the edges of her eyes starting to water. She tried to bring Sarah closer to her again, to hide her lopsided smile that was quickly turning into a pained grimace, to shelter her from the doubts that had started to overtake her.

Sarah braced her hands against Andreja’s chest, keeping herself far enough to see her face.

“Why would you ask me that?”

Andreja closed her eyes, her teeth gritting despite her best effort.

“Because I love you. Please, I need this to be able to… depart in peace.” Andreja hated herself. She was not a liar, but love had ways of puppeteering those enthralled by sparkling green eyes. She would never know peace without her Sarah.

“My love, if we need to postpone, you can tell me right now. I’ll even say that it’s my idea, alright? This is too big for you to go in unwilling.” One of Sarah’s hands splayed over the small of her back, the other cradled her cheek, her thumb rubbing comforting circles.

“I have no doubts and am willing. We are explorers. It’s who we are. Come on, there are worlds to conquer!”

Vladimir nearly crushed her. Andreja was certain that one of her ribs had been bruised, but she would never complain. Sona had brought them drawings to hang around the ship. Issa and Walter presented them with their portraits.

They would hang tall upon the wall of the Lodge, they would welcome those that would follow in the trails that they blazed.

Matteo had offered to honor an Old Earth tradition. None of them would be marked as ‘dead’ in Constellation’s records.

‘Out Exploring.’

One by one, they pressed the buttons on the Lodge’s central console, watching as their statuses changed for the last time, the background on their pictures changing from the Lodge’s garden to a sea of stars.

“I’m leaving my hat. Take good care of it, Noel. Only Sona gets to wear it, when she’s old enough to fly Auntie Sarah and Tata ‘Dreja’s ship.” Sam declared as he set down his coat on the coatrack.

“You can have my jacket. Don’t wash it without taking out my bottle of perfume. I left it in the breast pocket, in case any of you crave the good ole eau-de-Barrett.” Barrett said, hanging his coat.

Andreja stepped forward, unfurling the cloth wrapped around her arm. She examined the symbols, letting her hand travel against the leather. Once again, she would leave her home behind, with no way back. She closed her eyes, bringing the cloth close to her face as she whispered a quick prayer.

“Andreja, you really don’t have to, I know it has heavy meaning in your religion.” Matteo said.

“But I want to. I leave behind my fighting arm’s wrapping and my favorite blade. May it serve you well, shall anyone attempt to harm Constellation.” Although her blade and garb were hardly heavy, in that moment, they felt heavy as lead as she set them down.

She took a step back, watching as Sarah approached, before taking off her red leather jacket. She let her thumb brush over the Constellation patch. She hung it, retrieving a recorder from its pocket before addressing the room.

She pressed the button and though her shoulders seemed to sag with the weight of the legacy that they were leaving behind, hanging behind ‘Out Exploring’ statuses and clothes that they would not return for, she spoke with a clear and steady voice.

“We are explorers. We ride on solar winds, we land on distant planets and learn of its ecosystem. We are scientists. We are explorers.” Andreja heard Noel sniffle and Matteo drop a comforting word in her ear. “We venture forth into dangerous territory, we let our voices talk before our guns. We are unlikely diplomats. We are explorers.” Barrett chuckled under his breath, saying that he’d love to add ‘unlikely diplomat’ to his resume. “We never back down in the face of adversity, from within or outside. We are warriors. We are explorers.” Sam nodded his head, holding his daughter’s hand. “We do not run from our pasts, we run forward and into the unknown. We are brave—we are free. We are explorers.”

Andreja let her hand be taken into Vladimir’s and they both pretended that their palms were not sweaty.

“We do not doubt the importance of our cause and give it everything we have. We are visionaries. We are explorers.” Issa elbowed Walter as he dabbed his eyes. “We are lost in the sea of stars and found in what we believe in most. We are Starborn.” The Silent Spacefarer nodded.

“We are those that ask questions, never fearing the answer nor silence. We are dreamers. We are explorers.” Matteo tapped his chest, his head bowed.

Sarah remained silent a moment, before Barrett broke the silence.

“I know you aren’t one to sing your own praises, but surely, you’re missing someone here, Chairwoman.”

Andreja stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Sarah. Public speaking was a hundred times more terrifying to Andreja than facing a terrormorph. But for Sarah, it was worth it.

“We believe in the best of ourselves and others—we never stray from our course. We are leaders. We are explorers.” Andreja added, smiling at her love whose eyes had started filling up with tears. Andreja stepped back as Sarah Morgan drew in a long breath, before speaking again.

“We are explorers. We are a family. We are Constellation. If you are listening to this, you are now one of us. Heed the words of those that have come before. May they keep you safe as you venture forth, with the knowledge that you never walk alone. Sarah Morgan, Chair of Constellation, signing off. Ad astra.”

Sarah Morgan left behind that recording in the shaking hands of the new Chair of Constellation, one Vladimir Sall. The giant of a man had the shoes of a colossus to fill.

One last glance at the coatrack. One last farewell. One last round of embraces and pretending that none of them were crying. Andreja even pretended not to cry as she ruffled Sona’s hair, leaving her with the biometrics to their ship.

Although they had all boarded the Frontier too many times to count, this time, the ship felt foreign to Andreja. No cups were piled in the sink for Andreja and Sarah to complain about. No textbooks were strewn for the young Coe.

They all left for their respective tasks. They operated in religious silence.

Andreja let her feet take her to Sarah after checking that all security systems were optimal. It didn’t matter—where they were going, no one was going to attempt to hack their systems.

“This is it, eh?” Sarah Morgan’s hands left the starmap, wrapping themselves around her bare arms.

Andreja nodded, her eyes drifting to the Armillary. She closed her eyes, only to find Sarah much closer than she had been before. She let her eyes devour her lover. The silver hair that kissed the gold, the soft smile that had brought back Andreja from her darkest thoughts. The eyes, hugged by crows’ nest, the slithered laugh lines of a life lived with mirth and pain alike. Those eyes that had shed tears for those that would not be returning from Cassiopeia, those eyes that wrinkled in joy for the one that did.

Her hands wrapped around her neck, bringing Andreja down to her height, to meet her eye-to-eye. Those hands that had pummeled spacers to their deaths, fired the trigger that sent Tomisar to atone to the Great Serpent, so that Andreja would not have to end her one connection to her home herself. Sarah had carried the weight of that death on her conscience so that Andreja could sleep.

“I will never be able to sleep again.” The words had slipped out without Andreja noticing.

“And I don’t think I’ll smile again, until I find you.” Sarah said. Oh, it was so like her Commander to venture forth with a goal that could never be met. A lost soul pitted against impossible odds, a lone ship in a merciless war, weaving between the wreckage to find salvation.

“Then don’t lose me.” Andreja whispered. This time, there was no helping it. No amount of practiced breathing exercises could keep the tears at bay, as one rolled down her cheek.

“Andreja, my love,” Sarah tilted her chin, one finger pushing away the tear. Her lips covered hers. “This is who we are. You know that someday, one of us will give in. This door cannot be closed.”

“I know. I know. Is it just…” Andreja tried to take a step back, but Sarah did not let her, her green eyes imploring her not to shut her out. “For once—for once, could I be selfish?”

Sarah heaved a pained breath as her fingers danced on Andreja’s skin.

“You can leave the ship,” Her voice was strained, her breathing uneven. “You don’t have to do this. Constellation will always be your home.”

“You are my home, Sarah. I do not want to lose you—to lose us, to lose Constellation.” Andreja gritted her teeth. She had only begun to feel home, yet it was torn away from her. Much too soon. “Do not do this to me, please.”

“I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my body.” Sarah winced, her hands wrapping themselves in Andreja’s garb and pulling tight. “I cannot force you to do this, I love you too much. But if we are to cross this Last Frontier, I need to know that there’s a chance, however small, that you’ll be there.”

“What if I am not? What if we are to lose each other?”

“Then I’ll cross that goddamn bridge across the blackest sea as many times as it takes for me to find you again. If it takes eternity, then so be it. But I’m not leaving you behind, Andreja. I just… I can’t just let Barrett, Sam and Cora take that step without being with them. This isn’t goodbyes, Andreja. The lives we lead…” Sarah’s thumb brushed over a scar that draped across Andreja’s shoulder. A nasty burn left from a Crimson Fleet attack. “We have more chances of making it out alive by stepping through the Unity than by staying here. My love, we were never going to die of old age.”

“Would it be so unsufferable? To see me gray, to have our wrinkled hands wrapped around each other while we watch the Aceles grow? Am I not worth staving off eternity?” Andreja spoke, before sighing and letting the heat dissipate from her head. “I am sorry. I know that you love me. And because I love you, I cannot stop you. I will go through with you.”

The grav drive’s hum filled the air as Sarah Morgan descended from her ship. She ran past the UC guards, not stopping as she heard Nyssa call out her name. She threw herself on the NAT, not caring about the curious looks the passengers shot to the woman who was all but heaving and shakily holding onto the door for support.

She ran past the gardens, vaulting past the tall trees (had they always been this big?), dashing over bushes and colliding with a bench that she swore had never been there in the first place. She ignored the bench’s occupant squeal as she ran forward. She threw open the door to the Lodge, all but collapsing into the entryway.

“Who’s there?” A familiar voice called out. Sarah lifted her head, only to meet Noel’s eyes. Sarah was thankful that she was already on the floor, for she felt her knees give out. A few streaks of gray colored the edges of her dreadlocks that reached around her shoulders.

The scientist gasped, her data slate clattering to the floor as she dropped to the ground, her arms wrapping themselves around Sarah.

��Oh my god, you’re here! I never thought that I’d—I mean I figured but you know it’s hard to predict—and with all that happened and the data and—”

Sarah chuckled as her hands firmly gripped Noel’s shoulders, shaking gently. “Easy there, girl, breathe. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

Noel rolled her eyes, despite the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Heard that one before.”

“Andreja… Is she?”

“Upstairs, but—”

Noel watched with a disbelieving sigh as Sarah Morgan jumped to her feet and ran upstairs.

No one in Andreja’s room—she doubted that it was still Andreja’s room, with the overload of posters that littered the walls. She traced back her steps, opening every door as she went. The door to the balcony had been left ajar.

“All comes in due time, Cora. Thank you for the data, I will trace the source of the signal.”

Sarah could not move from the doorway, even as Cora Coe jetpacked away with a giggle. Andreja’s hands braced against the railing.

“It took you a long time to make up your mind.” Andreja spoke. Her voice had always been steady and precise. But now, it held even more weight.

Sarah all but stumbled forward. “I am so sorry, Andreja I—”

Andreja turned around and Sarah felt her heart burst. The once ink-black hair now had grey strands kissing her temples. Laugh lines danced alongside the dimples on her cheeks. She was statuesque as ever, clad in intricate garb. Where there were once serpents and flowers blooming over the leather of Andreja’s outfit, there was now a single serpent wrapping itself around her arms, its maw spitting dozens of stars. The Constellation simple—but upside down. And right beside her, on the railing, a red leather jacket.

“I missed you, Sarah.”

“How long has it been?” She took a tentative step forward, never able to take her eyes off Andreja.

“An eternity. But to be more practical—ten years, two days and six hours.”

Sarah closed her eyes, nausea and vertigo alike threatening her balance. They were now the same age. Two strong hands steadied her. She opened her eyes to deep brown eyes that even ten years could not change.

“I am so sorry Andreja, I never meant to leave you behind.”

“You did not. Out of curiosity, why did you not go through?” Andreja’s hand gently pushed back Sarah’s head from her forehead.

“I looked back.” She had looked back. It had been the death of her. Andreja’s cheeks, straked with tears, her eyes closed and hands opened as she prayed through shaky lips. Sarah watched as Andreja frowned, before quickly adding. “And I am glad I did.”

“It was never my intent to hold you back, my dearest love.” Andreja spoke. Sarah’s eyes finally fell to Andreja’s hand. A tattoo wrapped around her wrist—the same that adorned Sarah’s. A golden band on her ring finger. “I love you too much to cage you. One universe was never enough for Sarah Morgan.”

“It is, if it’s with you. Only if it’s with you.”

Andreja smiled and brought Sarah close, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. Sarah let herself be wrapped up in Andreja’s arms and finally let herself sob.

“Did you—are you with anyone?” Sarah finally asked. Andreja laughed. “Ten years is a long time.”

“Not if you’re waiting for the right person. Yes, I am with someone. I am with you, always.”

Andreja’s lips still tasted the same, even after ten years of indecision, at the very gates of eternity. Her skin still felt the same against hers. And her love was still as all-encompassing, as religious.

There would be a time for the final voyage. When life would have nothing more to give, when her appetite would grow too strong to bear. But until then, Andreja and Sarah Morgan would set out on the horizon, under the orders of Constellation’s Chairwoman, Noel. They’d return with stories to share, laughing with Sam about the absurdity of meeting their ‘doubles’ on the other side. One day, the door would swing open again and their Barrett would run in, sweaty and swearing, carried by Cora and Sona’s strong arms.

And together, they would take the final step, until they would meet again, two words on their lips. Ad Astra.

See you starside.

#starfield #andreja #sarah morgan #andreja x sarah morgan #sarandreja #andrejarah #starfield prompt fill

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cycian · 8 months

Note

Can’t stop thinking about when you said “Andreja… loves sprawling herself on the lap of her dearests”

The thought of her falling asleep on Sarah’s lap and Sarah just panicking (lovingly) hard but also feeling the same way as when a cat blesses you with feeling comfortable enough to sleep on you. This has plagued me and I needed to share.

Anon, the instant you dropped this in my inbox, it started living in my head rentfree so I had to drop everything and write it ASAP lest it plagued me too. Here's to ending the Haunting of Andrejarah for the both of us (impossible). Also, fun fact, the poem used in this fill is 'Parted Presence' by Dante Rossetti, and is the poem I used when proposing to my now wife.

Moments like these were rare and few in-between. The fire was roaring, her whiskey was smooth and her book was good. Barrett had all but dropped it on her lap, while Walter had snatched the quarterly reports, quoting that ‘she had better things to do than fill out those damn reports’. She had attempted to join Noel in her experiments, but the scientist had shooed her away, threatening to pull out Sarah’s newsletter to Constellation about the importance of a good life/work balance.

So, 11:00 whiskey and literature.

Apparently, she was not the only one getting chastised for working too much. Up above, in the bar, Vladimir’s booming voice chided Andreja. She did not hear Andreja’s response, but could very well imagine her rolling her eyes. Barrett must have acquired stock from the publisher, because no sooner had she turned the page, Andreja walked in front of the foyer, same book in hand.

“Forced leave?” Sarah jested as Andreja shook her head, a small smile on her painted lips. Sarah patted the spot next to her and scooched to the side of the armchair to give Andreja more room to sit.

“I know that it is coming from a place of…affection. But I do not enjoy getting told to ‘sit down’ and ‘relax’.” Andreja’s fingers drummed against the cover of the book. “I appreciate the concern, but I find exploration to be relaxing.”

Sarah nodded her agreement, letting her thumb rest between the pages. “So do I, but today, I will humor them. Plus, the book is pretty good.”

Andreja hummed and settled on the couch. Seeing Andreja attempt to relax was endearing. Though the couch was comfortable (Walter never skimmed when it came to the Lodge’s amenities), Andreja sat rigidly, her back straight as she opened the book with a focused frown.

Sarah returned to her whiskey and literature, occasionally sneaking a look at the House Va’ruun.

Andreja had become a full member almost a year and a half ago and Sarah was still learning so much about her. When travelling together, Andreja’s brows were always furrowed and only relaxed when a fight was breaking out. In the privacy of the Lodge, her shoulders were taut, but her lips were slowly starting to loosen. Sarah watched (only with appreciation for her colleague relaxing next to her, of course) as Andreja’s teeth nibbled on her lower lip, before immediately stopping, as if expecting punishment. Her index finger trailed underneath the sentences she was reading, and Sarah caught that finger often returning to previous lines, reading them over and over again. Andreja would occasionally huff, sometimes roll her eyes as her finger traveled over the page.

“Enjoying the book?” Sarah asked after Andreja had returned to the same line for the seventh time.

Andreja set the book on her lap, her eyes narrowing. One of Andreja’s traits that never failed to make Sarah swoon (professionally, as someone who was very detail oriented and did not like to leave things up to chance), was how she pondered her every word. Certainly, with English being the predominant trade and diplomatic language in both UC and FC space, Andreja, as a non-native speaker, needed more time to formulate her thoughts. But the precision with which she chose her words was not only due to her linguistic level. Andreja loved precision. She sharpened her blades every day after waking up at precisely 6:30 every morning. Her weapons were always neatly arranged in the basement’s display cases and in immaculate shape.

“I believe that I enjoy the book in the same manner that I enjoy our journey. I am unsure that I truly understand everything—but I enjoy attempting to make sense of it.” Andreja finally declared. “My understanding of English may not be sufficient to accurately get the full picture.”

“Poetry is a hard genre to read, especially when it’s in a foreign language,” Sarah could relate. Although English was her first language, poetry had long eluded her. She’d forgone the genre altogether for a decade, until she could finally learn to read between the lines. “May I give you a hand?”

Andreja nodded, taking Sarah’s hand into hers. Idioms were very confusing to Andreja. And Andreja was very confusing to Sarah. The Chair blinked, her hand limp in Andreja’s hand. She should’ve explained that she was offering help, not to hold hands but… Andreja had accepted, had she not?

“You are very red, Miss Morgan.” Andreja noted while Sarah felt her face burn even more.

“Ah, well, it’s the heat from the fireplace, perhaps I should… Take off my jacket?” Sarah used this as an opportunity to withdraw her hand from Andreja lest she goes into cardiac arrest. She folded her jacket and let it rest on the couch’s arm, counting down from ten in a desperate attempt to regain some control over herself.

Andreja patiently waited, extending her hand to Sarah once more, before wordlessly returning to her book.

Sarah attempted to do the same—to no avail. It was impossible to get to focus with Andreja’s hand warming hers, occasionally giving her a light squeeze, which had the effect of sending Sarah’s heart thundering against her ribcage. She was not a teenager anymore, holding hands with someone who considered her a friend and was under her supervision as Chair should most certainly not have that effect on her. But despite Sarah chastising herself over and over again in her mind, she could not stop her eyes from drifting to the woman holding her hand, instead of the book she was supposed to be reading.

Damn it. So much for relaxation—she was certain her heart would give out. She set her book down on the coffee table and eyed her whiskey. It was a nice, expensive whiskey reserved for special days. She downed the glass in one go and let herself melt into the couch, Andreja still holding her hand.

“Are you alright, Miss Morgan?”

“Never been better.” Said Sarah, feeling as if she was on death’s door.

“Do you still wish to give me a hand?” Andreja asked, her hand slowly withdrawing from Sarah’s. Sarah squeezed her hand, letting their fingers intwine.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you. I do not understand this passage: ‘Your hands to-day are not here, Yet lay them, love, in my hands.’, how can one lay their hands in someone else’s, if they are not physically present?”

“Wait, so you knew that ‘giving a hand’ meant?”

Andreja perked up, proud of herself. “Oh, yes. Sam has taught me that one.”

Sarah refrained from pinching the bridge of her nose with her index and thumb. “So, why did you hold my hand?”

“Because I wanted to. That’s what people who love each other do, yes?” Andreja declared nonchalantly, as if she had not murdered Sarah Morgan with a single sentence. Sarah’s eyes widened, her pulse quickening way past what was considered healthy. She loves me? Probably as a friend, don’t read too much into it, don’t ruin this—ruin her trust. “So. What does it mean?”

“Huh?” Very eloquent, Sarah.

“We are here, holding hands.” Andreja squeezed her hand for emphasis. “It is possible because we are both physically present, yes? You can see me, you can touch me.” To demonstrate her point, she brought Sarah’s hand to her face.

Sarah cupped her cheek, letting her fingers roam over the high cheekbones, trying her utmost to gather what was left of her wit to answer Andreja’s question. She gulped, fighting with herself to form a coherent sentence.

“It’s figurative, the author knows that such thing is not possible—but the poem is about transcending the reality of space with love—that love can conquer everything, including the laws of physics.”

Andreja narrowed her eyes pensively, her hand still holding Sarah’s to her face, before slowly making it trail down, by her lips. “Do you think it’s possible? That love would conquer even the laws of physics, the laws of the Gr—the Great Beyond.” She corrected herself, her eyes darting around the room to confirm that no one was around.

“I am hardly an idealist but…” Sarah let her eyes flutter closed for an instant. She’d choose Andreja over any artifact, she’d choose her life over her own, if there was one thing that she would not let this universe forget, it was Andreja’s name. Even if the Great Serpent, Andreja’s divinity, would kill her for it. “Yes, I believe that there are forms of love that transcend everything, the laws of men and gods alike.”

A smile curled Andreja’s lips, as she brought them to Sarah’s wrist, planting a languid kiss that made Sarah forget how to breathe. Andreja let go of her hand. Sarah stifled a disappointed whine in the back of her throat as the House Va’ruun got up, before bracing her hands against Sarah’s shoulders.

“May I?” Andreja asked.

Sarah had no idea what Andreja wanted—but all she knew was that she did not need to understand to love it—to love her. Half the fun was in trying to figure it out.

“Yes, Andreja. Anything you want.”

Her shoulders were pushed back against the couch, as Andreja curled herself in Sarah’s lap. It took a few minutes of adjustment to be comfortable, as Andreja was much taller than Sarah. But still, she managed to make herself perfectly comfortable, balanced on the older woman’s lap, one arm tightly wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Be careful, Miss Morgan, I could ask for something impossible.” Andreja spoke against her neck, sending an army of shivers down Sarah’s back.

And I’ll give it to you.

“Anything you want, Andreja.” Sarah repeated, not managing to tear her eyes away from the deep brown eyes that looked so painfully vulnerable, despite the levity of her tone.

“Read the book to me. Explain it to me. Please?”

Sarah Morgan could never say no to Andreja. Especially with those big brown eyes, so light in the warm glow of the fire.

“Poetry is very subjective, there is no universal truth to it.” Sarah explained, still picking up the book that Andreja set down in her hand.

“Very few truths are universal. I am only interested in yours.” Andreja whispered, before letting herself melt in Sarah’s embrace.

Sarah cleared her throat and the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. “Two blent hearts never astray, two souls no power may sever…”

To Barrett’s credit, he at least knew better than to open his mouth when he found them, hours later. Andreja still sprawled across Sarah, the book still opened on Andreja’s lap. He was only allowed to snicker under his breath, Sarah’s eyes narrowed in threat as he took her glass and refilled it, before leaving with a friendly pat on Sarah Morgan’s hair. If there were any concerns to address, let them be handled by anyone else. Because Sarah Morgan knew the law very well, and knew that getting up and disturbing Andreja as she started to doze off on her lap would be worse than any war crime.

#starfield #andreja #sarah morgan #andrejarah #andreja x sarah morgan #starfield prompt fill #the gays love dante rossetti

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