But Still the Days Seem the Same [CLOSED]

[spiritwalks]

Who: Obi-Wan jedies and Vyng spiritwalks
What: A chill evening in an empty, abandoned bar
When: Very beginning of July
Where: Colonel Dan's in Red Cellar

Content Warnings: Listed in subject lines when applicable


((From here))

When they step inside, they're met by darkness pierced only by slivers of lamplight from the alley. Silence — rare in the entertainment district — blankets the place like dusty tarps draped over old furniture.

Vyng flips the switch. A warm glow spills onto a mahogany bar top, an empty stage, and the vacant booths lining the far wall. Nobody is here.

"Welcome to..." Laughter quietly colors Vyng's words. "This. Place."

(He forgot the name.)

Comments

[jedies]

[ obi-wan seems bemused. ]

What made you reveal yourself?

[spiritwalks]

[His soapy hands, busy washing glasses now, become still.]

I don't know. It felt good to say.

[He considers the question for a moment longer, expression pensive. Quietly, he adds:]

I guess . . . there was a part of me that enjoyed it, and a part of me that didn't. It felt like love. It was nice being taken care of without having to ask for it. But I was hiding a lot of things about myself, too.

[jedies]

I suppose nothing can ever truly progress under a guise.

[ it is a lie of sorts and will remain a lie still, even if it is beneficial. ]

[spiritwalks]

That's true no matter your shape.

[He always gave half-truths or bald-faced lies whenever people asked about his past. Now it all feels like a fuzzy dream, and he isn't sure he could stitch it all together into any kind of cohesive picture anymore. Maybe it's a blessing from Mariana, or maybe it speaks to Vyng's own stubbornness in carving a new life for himself. He doesn't worry about it, though. All he can do now is give himself to his own inner-work, to the best of his ability, for the sake of building authentic connections with others.]

[Brightly, he adds:] . . . On the plus side, the guy went home and rethought his life. Kicked the booze and really turned things around for himself, last I heard.

[jedies]

A happy ending of sorts.

[ not that anything ever truly ends, but it's enough to leave someone with.

[spiritwalks]

Mm-hm.

[He vigorously dries the glass with a barmop towel, with the nonchalance of somebody who's done it a thousand times.]

People in the Dream were bigger fans of hanging out with a wise-cracking animal sidekick. Some of them preferred me that way, I think. [A hint of laughter colors his words, although his eyes are a little sad when he adds:] Can't say I blame them.

[jedies]

[ ah. ]

Perhaps not, but I think you're allowed to judge them a little. On a lack of self-acceptance.

[spiritwalks]

Maybe so. But I think people have their reasons.

[Vyng doesn't feel sorry for himself. And while he can judge people for petty things when he wants to, this isn't one of them.]

I mean, there are children here. Ones without any parents or support. Which do you think they'd rather talk to? A 7-foot monster man, or a cute little bird?

[jedies]

My impression of children is that they are overall precocious and it depends on what is taught to them.

[spiritwalks]

Yes. And the ones who lacked any meaningful support often learn to fear those who are bigger than them.

[jedies]

Is that something you've run into here?

[spiritwalks]

I have.

[jedies]

What happened?

[spiritwalks]

I found a child crying, alone. He was having a panic attack. His spirit was unmoored. And I knew in my heart. . . the last thing he needed — or wanted — was this strange, woodsy wildman crouching next to him.

So, I did what I could: I took the form of a big cat. The moment he saw me, he—

[A pause, as the weight of his story belatedly sinks in. Vyng has never given himself the chance to sit with it, let alone say it out loud. He lets out a slow breath and softly says:]

He didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms. And held on tight, until the panic started to subside.

[jedies]

[ ah. gently. ]

You realize that has less to do with you than the child himself.

[spiritwalks]

That's what I'm saying. People have their reasons. But even if they don't, there's nothing wrong with it.

[Sometimes, a fuzzy friend is just easier to share space with. Therapy animals are trained for that very purpose.]

[jedies]

True.

But equally so, there's nothing wrong with having a feeling about it.

[spiritwalks]

It'd be strange if I didn't. It was an integral part of my identity for longer than I can remember.

[jedies]

Mm. How does it feel now?

[spiritwalks]

How does what feel? Not being able to turn into animals anymore?

[jedies]

Yes. You said it was integral.

[ obi-wan imagines it. being cut off from the force. which he had been, for ten years. ]

[spiritwalks]

[He pauses. It's a big question, with more facets than a radiant diamond. After a moment, Vyng simply says:]

I miss it. I miss what it represents. Some part of me will always miss it, I think.

[jedies]

[ obi-wan can grasp that easily. ]

Sometimes we forget, as we move forward, we also lose certain things along the way.

[spiritwalks]

[Change is the only constant in life. Vyng's mother instilled that in him from a young age — maybe even earlier. At times that fact feels etched into Vyng's bones, seared into his blood, and creased into the palms of his hands.

But did his younger self have healthy examples of living with loss? His mother never aged. She kept her distance from the locals, and seldom spoke of his father. And his father? His father. . .

Well. Death doesn't lose anything.

(Death always takes, he coldly reminds Vyng. Look at me. Remember it well.)

But Vyng doesn't want to think of him right now. So, he shifts his attention to the natural swirls in the mahogany countertop. The damp bar mop towel in his hands. The quite shhhhhh of the faucet. He runs a thumb across his black-glass ring and lets out a slow breath.]

I never forgot.

It just. . . took awhile to actually let myself feel that loss, is all.

[jedies]

[ no. it's not a true forgetting. but it does get laid on the wayside. obi-wan acknowledges that quietly, what is said and unsaid with a quiet tilt of his head. ]

It takes time. Always.