deercountry | ( open ) do not stand on my grave and weep

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ obi-wan hums. ]

I doubt I can, if I'm being honest.

[ and he's not a jedi anymore. ]

I don't know if anyone could, willingly or otherwise.

We're... rather beholden to the nature of ourselves...and the higher powers at-play here.

I've seen it done. It is possible to rise above, to make those commitments.

I do not believe in being beholden to anything, base nature or higher power. I make my own choices.

[hmm.]

Then...you must be strong indeed. For even the Mu of my home who did not lose their memories...still have the shared vision of Terra in their hearts, same as mine. It motivates us all, whether we wish it to or not.

Even here, knowing I will never see it... I still have that ache.

[ that's interesting. a connected shared vision. the force did work like that, sometimes. ]

And this ache . . . keeps you going?

[he ducks his head, obscuring a small smile.]

I wonder... if that's true. It's never left me, yet I know I will never see it satisfied. Like a kind of creature's instinct?

[ he's never had that. the desire for a home, the need to chase it. the force is with him. always. the jedi were like stars. even so far away, all obi-wan had to do was look to the sky and feel the bonds.

and now.

even stars burn out. ]

It may be. It may not. You still get to decide.

[he lifts his head again and stares over toward him.

with a note of amusement in his thoughts:] ...I like that notion. I hope it is true.

Hope is enough to make it a truth.

Not alone. [not without willpower. but then, Blue doesn't read green lantern comics shut the FUCK UP ELLE]

I hope...you have others here. For the sake of your own hope, that is.

They're still here. Remnants of my family.

[ he shakes his head, his voice hoarse. ]

But the bonds have been . . . burned. Every time I try to touch them, it hurts.

[that's concerning.]

Burned...? Is it the bonds themselves...or yourself?

The bonds themselves.

They're all dead, you see. And while there are living remnants here, it still hurts to touch.

[there's a pretty palpable sensation at that: a tide of concern and impulse to move, to act...but Blue remains in place. as strong as that old urge to help is, he's still scarred by what happened when he invested too much of himself in the care of others; he's still afraid his wishes will turn to hurt.

it's not a good feeling.

his gaze drops as his stomach clenches with that unpleasantness. the lion at his side groans softly, lifting his head to peer up at his person.]

That's... no way for such things to be... They need to be...healed... [but he can't dare try, can he?]

[ obi-wan smiles faintly as if picking up the train of thought. but he would not ask. he would not plead. ]

In time, perhaps.

[that seems...

is that right? Blue isn't sure.]

...The way other wounds...heal... [or fester.

a beat.]

Maybe... [he lifts his head.] For your sake, I hope so.

Is that...strange to say? As a stranger.

No.

[ it still comes easy to him, when all else has gone hard and cold. ]

I believe in the heart of all people. That it's there. A light that shines.

[it's a little nice to be included in mention of multitudes; he's spent hundreds of years as something othered. he and his own people.

so he smiles faintly, briefly, before ducking his head again.]

If it's helped at all...and not burned too harshly...then I'll assume I've done a little good.

[ the corners of his eyes crinkle. ]

You should.

Then...

[he lifts his head.]

I'll look for you...in the future. And those bonds may no longer burn.

. . . All right.

( open ) do not stand on my grave and weep

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