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And as the night deepened amidst the vast desert and the infinite stars, two souls found solace in each other’s company, dreaming of a destiny written in the sands and stars.
* * *
We continued to stand on the observation deck, staring at the vastness of the universe before us.
The shimmering stars seemed to hold secrets, tales of ancient civilizations and far-off galaxies.
After a while, Nova’s gaze shifted from the stars to my arm, where intricate inked patterns wrapped around my skin. “Your tattoos,” she started, her fingers lightly tracing the lines, sending shivers up my spine, “they’re more than just decoration, aren’t they?”
I smiled, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Yes, they’re a lot more.”
Taking a deep breath, I began my story.
“On my planet, these tattoos are our destinies. We are born with them. They signify that somewhere out there, among the stars, among different species and races, there’s someone with a matching pattern. A fated mate. A soul meant to intertwine with ours.”
Her eyes widened with interest, her pupils dilating in the dim light.
I could almost taste the saltiness in the air from the anticipation that hung between us.
“Some of us are lucky,” I continued. “When a child is born on my planet, our leaders scan them. If they find another with a matching mark, they are paired. But often, our mates aren’t from our species. That means an endless search, traversing galaxies and dimensions to find that one person who completes us.
“Many settle. The search is long and often fruitless. I’ve always hoped but never truly believed until…”
My voice trailed off, looking deep into her eyes, leaving the rest unsaid.
Nova took a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then started speaking of her own tattoos. “I come from a line of Native Americans. Most descendants forget their history, their heritage. But not my family. When we reach adulthood, we begin to have vivid dreams. Dreams that are believed to be messages from our ancestors. In those dreams, we see animals and spirits that guide us, protect us. Once we have these visions, we get them etched onto our skin. It’s as if the animal becomes a part of our very being.”
I looked at her tattoos with newfound respect, tracing the lines of the animals, feeling their essence come alive under my fingertips.
The coolness of the ink at odds with the warmth of her skin.
I could hear the faint rhythmic beating of her heart syncing with mine.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, “just like you.”
She smiled, her cheeks turning a shade of pink, the color reminiscent of the first rays of dawn on my home planet.
We stood there for what felt like hours, lost in each other’s stories, the world around us fading away.
It was Nova who broke the silence. “That’s enough talking,” she whispered, her voice husky.
I raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on my lips. “About our cultures?”
“About anything,” she replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Before I could respond, she took my hand, her grip firm and leading.
We left the observation deck, the soft thuds of our footsteps echoing in the corridor.
As we headed back towards the prison cells, I realized that sometimes, amidst the chaos of the universe, you find someone whose story resonates with yours, someone who feels like home.
And you held onto them, cherished them, for as long as you were able.
* * *
This time, Nova took the lead.
As the trainer of countless fighting pit Champions, I was used to being in control, of deciding when, where and how my students would attack, of becoming a master at pushing them up to and then beyond their limits.
