( open ) do not stand on my grave and weep

[jedies]

Who: Obi-Wan + You
What: Obi-Wan updating to Post Revenge of the Sith
When: May 7th
Where: Around Trench + Obi-Wan's House

Content Warnings: Possible intense discussions of grief and trauma. Mentions of genocide and mutilation.

( i. awakening — closed to immediate cr + vyng )

[ he awoke in darkness.

that is what terrified him momentarily. the darkness closed in on him, on everyone and he had to warn, he had to stop it, he had to do something. the yawning abyss stretched out and obi-wan thrust his hand forward to touch . . . something soft? like the folds of a cocoon. he grasps and pulls, the force answering his cry like the tempestuous rush of the tide —

— and it breaks, light cascading into his strange prison. he pulls himself out with a gasp, dragging himself along the floor. blearily, he blinks, taking in his surroundings before he rasps out in a voice ill-used for days. ]

W — Where?

( ii. drinks on the house )

[ after (hastily) settling affairs, obi-wan drifts around the town like a ghost. his robe is pulled over his head, leaving his gaze in shadow. not that he meets anyone’s eyes for long. listlessly, he wanders until he finds himself at a bar. before, he would have called up constantine and they would have settled themselves in a corner, drinking without judgment but mindful of each other. constantine is gone. abby is gone. all the friends he used to do such things with — quinlan, shaak ti, mace, kit . . . they’re all gone. his family. his brothers and sisters, all in the force.

gone. the absence of their bonds ache like forgotten stars. he signals for a drink with a sigh. if anyone approaches him in his melancholia, he will reply as such. ]

I’m afraid I’m not much for company at the moment. You’d be better suited elsewhere.

( iii. the sword in hand )

[ in the morning, he tries to return to routine. normalcy. he shouldn’t forgo everything simply because he is changed.

oh, but everything has changed.

he performs the exercise without the use of his saber. not everything is reliant on the edge of the blade and he had other skills to hone. every day, every minute. obi-wan may dislike a number of things, but he refuses to be anything less than perfect in all his deficiencies. and there were just so many, cluttering his head and his heart.

obi-wan wrenches himself out of his thought with a jerk of his head and in a hurried motion, draws his saber and — lava and fire burns all around them, but all he can feel is cold, cold is the touch of the dark, cold is the way that withers all and not even the hatred in anakin’s eyes changed that and obi-wan is so cold, why was this happening, how did they come to this —

— he flings his saber in a burst of pain. it soars through the air before falling to the ground, landing on soft grass. it makes no sound. obi-wan can’t hear anything but the ringing in his ears. his knees sink to the ground and he bows his head while his fingers grasp at his ears.

he can’t hear anything anymore. it’s all cold. ]

Comments

[jedies]

[ ah. his lips twitch slightly at the corners as if he's hearing someone else's voice. ]

Fear is natural. But I am the master of my own fears. I do not let fear master me

[ fear, after all, leads to suffering. anakin's fear led to all of this. ]

[seaboard]

And what of your regrets?

[ Another mouthful. ]

Only that I think I shall never recover from my own. Most tell me, at least, that it shall make me a better Queen.

[jedies]

[ he hums a little at that, taking a sip of his drink. ]

Must you recover? Can you not grow from it?

[seaboard]

[ She lifts her head. Slow, where her veil stretches back falling her away. From under her jaw, the cut peaks, as she exposes it. Over her jaw when the light hits it.

Deep. Open. It has not healed as the scars on normal flesh might. Scars to the soul never healed as those to the mere mortal body. Inside of it, glimmering back at him, is an endless ocean, and the arms of a starfish, that seem to hold the skin together.

Then she lowers her head, the same level expression on her face that does not change. ]

Not always so simple as we might always hope. How to heal others when we cannot heal ourselves?

[jedies]

It may not be simple. But regrets don't need to be banished. They can exist with us, side by side.

[ he has regrets. many, at the moment, with the fall of the republic rattling in his head like a haunted house. except he is the only ghost that remains. still, would he banish it for bliss? for ignorance?

unlikely. yield, the dark says. but he could never. ]

And I would not speak of healing others before I look inward at myself.

[seaboard]

If we all could have a moment to do so, perhaps there would not be so much pain to begin with in the world.

[ There was the difference, she supposed, in being a ruler. She may need to heal, may need time to mourn. But the harvest must be counted, the roads made safe after the winter thaw. There was just never enough time to breathe, when everyone needed you. ]

But hopefully here, there will be something to soothe your heart here?

[jedies]

[ he manages a faint smile. ]

You think my heart needs soothing?

[seaboard]

It would seem so. You do not seem the morose by nature sort, little as I can presume to know of course.

[ Another spoonful of her soup, she leans back a little. ]

But it is often my business to follow up about such things. So perhaps I look for it too readily.

[jedies]

My heart is full of love.

[ he says this easily. without fear, without pride. it is a fact like any other. ]

And it is love that makes it ache today. I will still keep that love, though. The drink is just for pleasure.

[seaboard]

For love, then.

[ She lifts her glass, in a brief toast to him, the murmur of priekā with a little clink of her glass against the bottle, before she puts it to her lips and knocks it back -

... Like a man three times her size. Head tilted back as she empties it in one long gulp. ]

[jedies]

[ obi-wan settles for a sip only. all he wants to feel is the burn, to chase away the cold of the dark, the frosty touch of loss. to be numb is to become a danger. ]