saddeserthermit (
saddeserthermit) wrote2016-10-20 12:00 pm
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The Hermit Shack in the Woods, Thursday Evening
Truth be told, Obi-Wan had seriously considered not returning to Fandom island; the risk to Luke was too great if Vader or another Imperial officer came back and chose to follow him to Tatooine this time. But there were certain obligations he felt too guilty about bound to that he could not simply shirk. Speaking to Kanan was one of these. (Picking up the eopies was another.)
He was certain Anakin could handle Ethics fine without him.
He arrived back on the island early into the evening. He found Rooh nibbling at the grass just outside his hut, and for a moment, he had to smile. Then he sighed, and rubbed his brow, and went to speak to the animals. At least they were comforting.
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He was certain Anakin could handle Ethics fine without him.
He arrived back on the island early into the evening. He found Rooh nibbling at the grass just outside his hut, and for a moment, he had to smile. Then he sighed, and rubbed his brow, and went to speak to the animals. At least they were comforting.
[[ expecting one, but open for SP! ]]
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"I would've done the same," he admitted, that exhaustion sneaking back into his voice. "I've been trying since that Sunday, actually. Still no luck getting a portal back home. Still not enough fuel in the Expedient to explore this galaxy to see if there are inhabitable planets out there. It's great."
Not really.
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He had more than just himself to protect, after all.
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He'd done a great job of coping. Really.
Honest.
"Skywalker doesn't strike me as the most reliable individual to ask if you want anything important passed on."
It was funny how hero worship could turn into distaste so strong it was practically a tangible thing rolling off his tongue as he spoke, all because of one conversation.
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Then he caught himself. This thinking is what cause all of this to begin with.
"...But that's no excuse. You are right, unfortunately."
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The word he would have chosen, he wasn't going to repeat in front of one of the Masters.
He pulled in a deep breath. Exhaled. Shook his head again.
"There's being stubborn, and then there's refusing to accept responsibility for one's actions. He knew, Master Kenobi. He knew Mara was working directly for the Emperor, and it's my fault that my first impulse after meeting Vader without warning is to want to leave? That's a step beyond mulish. It breezes right past that and petulant into a realm all its own."
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He unpacked some tea bags.
"Unless you merely came here to rail at me about something we both agree on."
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"You're right," he said, bowing his head a little. "I'm sorry, Master. I had a conversation with him during the break and some-" a good many, "-unpleasant things were said. I know I should let it go, but... it rankles."
A lot. It rankled a lot.
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He turned around, holding out one cup to Kanan.
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"I don't think he fully understands just how barbed some of the things he said were," he said, all at once. "Just what it meant when he told me that he wasn't my Master, just before telling me to go ahead and run away. When he talked about... other things. Rumors about him that are clearly untrue, but directly after bringing them up, he wouldn't say how."
His grip on the cup tightened a little.
"I should be able to let it go, but he clawed at old wounds that Vader's appearance re-opened, and I can't just walk away from it."
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Obi-Wan's thoughts trailed towards the past, burning lava and eyes full of loathing; he pulled back from the memory as fast as he could, but the damage was done.
He sat down on a small chair, cradling his cup. He was not entirely certain Anakin hadn't been aware what he was doing, but saying so felt like it would not be helpful. "Then tell me about your old wounds," he said quietly, and took a sip. "We will see which ones can perhaps be closed."
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"You already know some of it," he said, quietly, mostly toward the cup. "How Master Billaba's last words were spent telling me to run. How I didn't sleep for weeks, and barely ate. I suppose it goes without saying... any Jedi who didn't die immediately after the Troopers turned would likely have a similar story, to some degree."
But that was fresh in his head again too, not thanks to Vader, or even to Skywalker, but thanks to the island itself. It wasn't really helping with that urge to run, either. Another weekend like that coupled with an unexpected visit from Vader...
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He lifted his cup and took a long sip as he privately weighed what to divulge. In the end... he settled on nothing, but the silence had been there and likely said enough already. "These are vivid memories. It's easy to poison the mind with them - so much raw emotion."
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He shook his head as though he was clearing it of cobwebs, and then finally took a sip of tea.
"When the island turned so many of us into teenagers again, I came out of it feeling it all like new. The first and only lie Master Billaba ever told me. The fear. Being hunted down by her own troops. One thing bleeding into the other, the way nothing felt right. How the silence was the only thing worse than the slaughter that came before it."
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Yeah.
The worst part had been that recording of Anakin. He'd taken the silence over that.
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He swallowed and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. What you must have found there..."
He'd had plenty of time to imagine it. He didn't think for a moment that imagination even began to capture the reality of it.
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Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it was at least helpful the Emperor had spaced out the killings across the galaxy.
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Kanan caught the tone, at least. It was a sharp contrast to the bile and the venom that Skywalker had been spitting at him last week. It made him feel... not better, not really. It wasn't the sort of tone that one ought to pull comfort from, of course. But more real, maybe. As though he'd been wading through a bad dream for weeks, and here was somebody else who knew that dream too, who could confirm that he hadn't just made up the darkest moments of it.
It also reminded him of the people he'd left behind when Master Billaba had taken him to war.
He hesitated for a long moment before, softly, he said, "There were rumors, about Skywalker. He made a point to mention one of them to me."
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"Did he, now?" he said. "He truly must have been in a snit."
He wasn't terribly impressed by Anakin's conduct here, all around. "What was it?"
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That came out sounding... rough. Like the words were burrs that wanted to stick in his mouth as he spoke them, and he had to pry them free before they could be heard. Those younglings had been his friends, had been the closest people to family that he had known before Master Billaba had taken him as her Padawan. He'd gone to lessons with them, had been teased by them and gossiped with them and had shared his worries and his dreams with them.
And Skywalker wasn't dead.
"That was all he would say."
And Kanan could think of no reason to mention it except to try to rub their deaths in his face, because a rumor that a living man had died protecting people who were now very much dead could only go so far to cover the man in glory.
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He brought up his cup. Sipped. Sipped again.
He didn't really taste it.
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"I don't understand, Master."
That was all he had. Even Caleb Dume didn't have the heart to dredge up a thousand follow-up questions to an answer like that.
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He lowered his cup. "I saw him on death's door."
But he hadn't had the heart to kill him. His final failing.
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"I'm sorry," he said, after that sip. Whatever he thought about Skywalker was irrelevant. Obi-Wan had been his Master, after all. "I should have thought..."
He sighed.
"Should we talk about something else?"
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He set his cup of tea aside.
"And he has trouble realizing that his own feelings don't supercede those of others. I do not wish to make the same mistake."
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