a collection of half-truths and hyperbole

When Obi-Wan had left, he hadn't even been entirely sure he'd be able to make it back to Tatooine. But instead of giving him trouble, the portal had simply dropped him in the desert, not too far from the Lars homestead itself. It was certainly closer than his last abode had been, which was a tick in the island's favor.

Of course, it meant the trek back had been long and arduous, but it had given him time to reflect. He had come here to watch over Luke and to learn from Qui-Gon, yet his old master's first instructions had guided him elsewhere. The Lars family wanted him even further away from their territory; the local population now left him be, but regarded him with some suspicion.

And then there was the island. And Anakin. It was... a lot.

By the time he had reached his shelter, however, he had made his decision.

And that was why now he was making another, shorter journey. Rooh followed close behind as he stepped unto the causeway. Her young son had not been able to handle the long trip, and now rested sleeping in Obi-Wan's arms, where it was warm. Obi-Wan had brought a blanket, and slung it over Rooh's back as soon as the temperatures shifted.

They could not go to the hotel. He could not ask the kind woman at the front desk to look after his eopies for him. But he had studied some maps of the island during his restless night here, and he knew a place they could be safe, that would still offer him space for contemplation and seclusion.

He found the shack in acceptable levels of disrepair. He set up Rooh's feed bin, first.

This would do. He could only hope he wouldn't regret it.

[[ can be open if you bump into him anywhere along the way. ]]

Sunset over Tatooine was always a spectacular event. This one was no different, igniting the sky in many flavors of yellow, orange, red; as always, Obi-Wan considered it for a time before settling down to meditate. The eopies had been fed. Rooh's child no longer needed any assistance getting to the choice parts. The young male had grown up fast in the weeks since his rather ill-timed birth.

Obi-Wan watched them, as well. Sometimes it was good to consider the reality of the living Force all around him.

It's not just sometimes any longer, is it? Solitude, quiet, and contemplation, that's the existence I chose. He took a deep breath and centered himself. Of course, it's only now that I can actually practice it, Qui-Gon, that the reality of my seclusion makes itself known to me. I need to remind myself that I am here not merely to look over Luke-- that it should feel like penitence should come as no surprise to me.

It has been weeks since Annileen's departure. The locals now leave me be entirely. And Luke grows steadily.

And I'm bored. I've lived at the top of the mountain for too long. I suppose I was arrogant; I knew that it would be hard, and that would be right, and yet here I am, complaining.

Qui-Gon's habit was to stay silent and just listen as Obi-Wan processed his day this way, He knew that his old friend wasn't just bored: he was lonely and deeply, deeply wounded.

He also knew there was a path that could fix at least one of those problems. He stayed silent a while longer as he waited to see if Obi-Wan was finished with his daily debrief.

Obi-Wan's mind babbled on; he found that more and more, his little one-sided chats with Qui-Gon became about the small things, the motions of the day. It was too early in his self-imposed exile, he supposed, for further great revelations to share, philosophy to rehash.

Eventually, his mind fell silent, and he felt himself passing gently into a meditative state. That, at least, was soothing.

Qui-Gon wasn't in the habit of contributing verbally and so he hoped that doing so now wouldn't be too much of a shock.

"Obi-Wan."

... and just like that, Obi-Wan's newfound peace evaporated. His head jerked up. Qui-Gon?

It was impossible to smile without physical form, but some of that warmth leaking into his voice as he projected it into Obi-Wan's head. You are restless, my old friend.

Obi-Wan had begun to give up on the notion that Qui-Gon would reply to him at all. The sudden change was bewildering, but-- it shouldn't have been unexpected. I am learning to settle in one place, Master, he answered. It takes time.

What is time to a Jedi? Qui-Gon answered, that little smile still in his voice. There's a place you should visit. It's important.

Ah. Well. In that case. Obi-Wan sat up straighter. Master Yoda had told him to learn from Qui-Gon, when he had been told of Qui-Gon's conscious presence in the Force. Perhaps this would be the first step. He couldn't say he was sad to feel his old master's presence again; it was comforting.

What is it?

Far, far away. The way will be made clear.

And that was all Obi-Wan was going to get from him.

Any hope of an actual direction, at least?

The wind picked up, blowing audibly across the desert. Rooh's feet shifted in the sand. A small creature skittered past noisily.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

Right, he thought. How foolish of me to ask.

[[ establishy! nfb, nfi, co-written with the fantastic sith_happened. ]]