You love it how I move you
You love it how I touch you
My one, when all is said and done
You'll believe God is a woman
And I, I feel it after midnight
A feelin' that you can't fight
My one, it lingers when we're done
You'll believe God is a woman
— Ariana Grande
Between them Jess and Zawati managed to heft Poe up, and then drape his arms over their shoulders. They struggled out of the cave and upward, Poe mumbling incoherently as they found their way through the darkness. Jess felt as if the world of the dead stood at her back, and she felt giddy relief at being able to leave it behind.
When they reached the surface, a Force ghost was waiting for them.
Jess' mind circled round and around as if she'd taken a blow to the head. She and Zawati arranged Poe on the floor of the Temple; the ghost would have to wait.
Satisfied that Poe was safe, she and Zawati walked out to the front steps. For a moment the only thing that could have distracted Jess from a kriffing Force ghost caught her attention: lush greenery had sprung up as far as she could see, replacing the oppressive smell of ash with a clean, green tang that brought tears to her eyes. The steps of the Temple were outlined in succulents, as if the hands that had so lovingly planted them had only just departed. A huge, lush vine of fire-colored trumpet flowers hung from the roof, curled into a comma in front of her. She gaped like an idiot.
Stars, did Poe do this?
She made herself turn to the ghost, though the emotions of the sentient planet hummed up right from the core of the world, through her boot soles, and right into her heart.
An Askajian stood there as patient as you please, a beautiful fat woman, all six breasts full and barely contained by her costume, her luscious body made up of extravagant rolls and valleys; she must have been full to the brim with water when she died, a sign amongst her people that she'd lived a good life with plenty to drink.
Hope I'm that fat when I go. Means I lived a good life.
The woman wore intricate dancer's regalia, tomuon wool spun into some of the most in demand fabric in the galaxy, fabric that she wore with an easy pride. Her hair was caught up in an intricate headdress made of bones, leather, and twine. Jess couldn't see any colors on her —she was the same blue-white that all Force ghosts seemed to share, if you could believe the stories — but whoever this was hardly needed color to catch the eye.
"Who are you?" Jess said slowly, having trouble reconciling the sight before her. The woman fixed her with a kind, even motherly gaze, and Jess felt a pang in her heart that she normally wouldn't have indulged.
"I am Mother Odgerel, cubling," she said, the faint echo from beyond the grave doing little to diminish the joyful cadence of her words. "So grim! Now is a time for laughter."
"How can you say that?" Jess practically wailed like the words had been a physical blow, disgusted at her own emotions picked apart like a raven's dinner. "After everything? We saw..."
"When you are in mourning, that is the most appropriate time for laughter," she said. Jess almost started crying again at such sweetness, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Besides, you have made your way out of the darkness. You have triumphed. And thus, I appear to you."
