So with 5 minutes left in my timezone, I am posting for “Time Travel Tuesday” that was started up by (I believe) @aerefyr and @poplitealqueen. I’m also tagging @prfury, @markwatnae, @sanerontheinside, @kunoichi-ume
This is the first in many chapters to come, because the plan as of right now is to turn this premise into a series of stories.
And now, I shall prevent you with... Xanatos du Crion, faced with time-travel. ...Even if time-travel doesn’t actually happen in this chapter. Technically, anyway.
On Ao3 | On FF.net
Chapter 1 (+Preface)
The first thing he saw was the outside of his own body.
Of all the things he had seen in his two-point-five decades of life? Oh, yes, the instant of seeing his own body—burned, scared, and hooked up to machines while left soaking limply in a bacta tank—was by the far one of the most tilting things he had ever been witness to.
Entombed by the maintaining of life.
He had no idea that this was the beginning of something that would seem utterly endless.
This was the beginning of his end. He did not yet know it, but he would see many of those.
There would be so many beginnings, and ends, and beginnings of ends, and ends of beginnings.
This moment was to be the last of a linear time that he was to be sure of for a very, very long time....
Or, perhaps, not too long of a time at all.
He can't remember when he last breathed.
It had been so long ago now and there seemed no end to it at all.
His heart beat and his lungs worked (he'd be no longer of this limbo if they didn't, after all) but he was not living. He was caught in an endless purgatory not being alive, yet also of not dissolving into the Force. He had wronged many in life, and after his task of attempting to take his own life, he had been quickly found by a handful of those he'd wronged and they'd trapped his body. They trapped his body to try and heal it in hopes that, one day, he would awaken and be forced to meet legal justice for his acts of crime in his figuratively short lifetime.
Thinking himself a ghost hadn't been so hard when he figured out he was unable to be seen by the living. It was when he started seeing glowing, humanoid, blue figures on occasion (ones he could never identify for sure, their features obscured just enough by this invisible barrier of different) that he discovered he was a ghost among ghosts as well.
Thus, he was trapped as an between. He was left unable to be seen by either end of the spectrum, for he was just a broken down to energy tied to the awakened and living world. He was of both, yet neither. He was a nothing among the infinite.
He was tethered in endlessness.
Though be he tethered, he was somehow not trapped like those black-and-red, aggressive entities of malformed spirits he had passed in many dark temples. He was able to explore the galaxy. To see time during and after his lifetime, but for some reason never before.
He had seen moments tragically great and horribly agonizing.
He had gone back and relived many things that both weren't and were his to experience.
At first, it did nothing to him. There was a ping of something there in his figurative heart, a rush of things on other occasions ins his emotions that stubbornly refused to be acknowledge, but after witnessing the end of another instant from yet another countless person's experience of it? He had no choice at all, but it was instinctive and utterly unavoidable:
He had reflected on himself.
He hated what he found, and mourned what he didn't find despite how hard he searched.
The boy screams and curses the universe while weeping for forgiveness. He knows not what he is, and he hates who he was, and doesn't even like what he had been before that.
It is all mixing together in a confusing cacophony.
It is a booming loudness with an even more piercing silence.
Its volume is evergrowing.
This and the thickness of his entrapment is all he has to sustain himself. All he has to choke on.
The only things that remind him that, though he seems to have no existence, that there is still something left of himself.
It is only these endlessly thickening sorrows that he has to force into his figurative lungs. To nudge him both towards and away from being lost in the insanity of everything.
Of pains and griefs that both had and hadn't been created by him, and a lot of them were by him, as indirect as some were.
He chokes on more of that odd thickness as the endlessness continued on. And in all this endlessness, he still finds it impossible to recall the last time he was able to breathe.
Was it when he was born? Was it his sister's birth, where their mother breathed her last? Perhaps his breathing stopped when his father began to beat him, drunken sorrows and intoxicated declarations that his son would grow into a perfect man.
It could have stop when his father smacked him across the face, alone in a room, when he was barely eight-years old and forcing him abandon his life to head to the Jedi Order. To make him pretend he wanted to go.
At least the man—tall, imposing, hair long and dark—similar to his father but with kindness and softness, had been the one to take him away.
That he hadn't minded.
The kindness had been a small happiness.
Until he'd realized the man couldn't save his sister too.
He thinks his breathing must have stopped around then, though he is unsure. One thing he is sure of, however, is that it was that it was in that moment when anger had started grow.
The anger, hate, and the darkness within him and grown and festered until the weeds strangled his very soul out from the Garden of the Light within him.
He felt betrayed by those whom he loved (destinies of being taken into death by murder and justice yet unknown), and in response he had turned on the ones who actively loved him. He turned on the man as he saw for the reason for all of his pain, small happiness he had caused forgotten, yet still it was this man who loved him with pure, unconditional feelings.
It was that man he had broken.
A man who had been more of a father in six years than what his birth-father had been in eight years.
He turned on the Jedi Order, for they had caused his pain as well. Sending him for his Knight Trials by intending for him to bring justice upon his own father? Forcing him into a scenario where he would have to watch his little sister and his only living parent die?
“The Jedi of this era were never the best with differences,” a wispy something whispers, “even if the differences were children. Those were the worst off.”
“One point I'll agree with. There really was no excuse.” A something other than the first chimes in.
He always had the feeling the Council hated him—the whispers of “Doesn't he seem too old?” and “His future seems clouded” hadn't escaped the child's ears, for being young does not make one deaf.
He felt ostracized by his peers.
Children were cruel, and being Jedi made no differences. He was different because unlike them, he hadn't been in the Temple since a time of youngness that left no memory of a time before the Jedi Life. He was different, and they made sure he remembered it.
The Order endlessly preached serenity and peace. They had become so wrapped up in that preaching and the haughtiness of their codes that that they ignored (or, perhaps, didn't register) the damage that some of their young faced at the hands of a few others.
They ignored their faults, and ignorance cannot create or maintain true peace.
It also never helped that it was those who defended themselves were also the only ones getting caught.
Defense was always a lot less calculated than offense.
Offense was planned and meditated—it allowed for stealth. Defense was desperation to escape pain.
No one could blame a child for assuming hate was involved when apparent favortism seemed be be happening against their well being for years of their life.
This was a hate that lasted for eight years in the boy's eyes as nothing more than an assumption, until he finally saw it as a proven fact.
For after all, when assumptions had time to fester without acknowledgment of their existence, they need very little to set it off.
What had validated his, however, had been something rather large.
There had been no hope of making him think otherwise.
“It's your fault this all repeated later.” Something says.
“Or perhaps,” Says the Other Something, “it was the Jedi ignoring what the last time they doing this had brought upon them. Different, yet similar. Forgetting history forces it to need a level of repeating.”
“...Time doesn't enjoy parts of its growth being ignored.” Something reluctantly agrees.
That damned mission to his original home had seen as nothing more to him than the utmoest cruelty of monsters. Of evil. Of evil by ones who sprouted hate led to Darkness, yet they had done something that couldn't be perceived as nothing else but evil. In his eyes, they had taken him from goodness.
They took his goodness, and he had saved himself from them, for in his point of view the Jedi were the evil ones. All they seemed to ever do was preach of their goodness, but they were evil, because only true monsters protested not being what they actually were.
He never denied what he became.
He marked his right cheek with the ring of the man who had once beat him, and turned on the other man who had raised him. Blade to blade with the intent of death.
He turned his back to face the Dark. He joined with his shadows that, in the least, would admit to their darkness existing. He became a Fallen. A Dark Jedi.
He didn't ever turn back.
He... thinks that he regrets never looking back.
It took him many years to figure this out, but there is definitely regret. A grave, crippling regret. A kind that drowns you, yet leaves the sensation of burning. It left a burning as if one was forced to drink nothing but salty water in some desperate desire for survival.
Surviving until even the survival killed you.
By the Force, why didn't he ever look back?
“There was no point!” Something snaps. “Besides, it felt good to finally feel free.”
“It felt good until even that hurt.” Other Something reminded, not allowing for a successful reflection of the topic. Something didn't enjoy that happening, but then again it never had.
He doesn't care.
He does NOT care.
He doesn't care, he doesn't care, he doesn't care—
...He doesn't understand why it hurts so much.
He has no idea how long anything had been like anything, for all he knows is that he has been able to see many lifetimes that existed both during and after his time alive, but none before.
Even still, countless lifetimes with no linear way to track made things rather endless.
He has seen joy and pain and joy and pain.
He had seen the success of rebellions and the much too premature fall of those success.
He has seen pain, pain, pain, painpainpainPAIN!
So much pain.
It hurts.
It seems fitting that he feel all the pains of the universe, since he had ignored the pains he had caused.
“Who cares if others face pain? It's not ours! We shouldn't care!” Something screamed.
“But we do!” Other Something screamed back.
“WE DON'T CARE!”
“WE DO CARE!”
“I DON'T WANT TO–”
“–CARE! WE KARKING-”
“DON'T MAKE ME–“
“–CARE! WE–”
“–CARE!” Something was hysteric. It was hoarse, and sounded on the cusp of injured insanity.
“IT HURTS!” Other Something sobbed and screamed, at some point the two's words having swapped. It had been impossible to tell when.
Their dance had mingled to much. The pitches were losing their differences.
“IT HURTS!” They screamed, so in unison. “IT HURTS, BUT WE CARE. IT HURTS! WE CARE! IT HURTS! WE CARE! WECAREWECAREWECAREWECARE–”
“I CARE!” He screamed, and if he was sentient and solid he had no doubt he'd be spewing blood with how roughened his voice had been made by his own screams. “I CARE! I CARE! I CARE!” He fell to figurative knees, in the throws of space and after witness yet another pointless death in the horrible mixture of Dark, Light, love, hate, and every impossible or extreme that was categorized beyond or in between.
“I CARE AND IT HURTS! I KARKING CARE!” He had never felt less unable to breathe. He hadn't been able to breathe in years, despite his puppet of a body being forced to and indirectly trap him to his ghost-ghosts existence. His chest is intangible, but it's constricting. His heart is in a physical body he can't even touch, yet he feels as if it's beating out of his very chest.
It hurts so much.
“MAKE IT STOP!” Xanatos du Crion, the fallen Jedi Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, was all but sobbing as he managed to collapse to his figurative knees before another fire of pain and anguish in the galaxy.
His own screams were unable to stop the screams of all else. It was unable to stop the screams he had relived endlessly, and screams he was hearing for the first time.
There was a symphony to this cacophony he had discovered. A song that was to never end. It came at him from the past and present, and there was the faint trilling of it's continued promise to be in the futures to come.
He screamed screams that would leave him breathless if he were to have need of air.
“I CARE! JUST MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE! SOMEONE, ANYONE? JUST MAKE IT ALL STOP! IT HURTS–!”
As screams once more continued to rack the galaxy after another destroyed (but so, so, so painfully short) era of peace, his own were no longer a part of the song.
Don't get too excited. Protect your Force essence from being felt.
Her padawan had said she'd be studying with them that day, but she could smell a cover from a mile away. Especially if it involved Qui-Gon. That man helping Senior Padawans study? Especially if one of them wasn't his? Not likely, for that man had been a terror to study for himself at that age.
Wait for it... wait for the right moment....
The woman paused outside the bedroom door of the apart she had... liberally opened without proper permissions. She was quiet, ear pressed and listening as she masked her force presence.
Her breath was near nonexistent, her breath baited as she waited for a sign.
....Squeeeaak-squeeak....
A bed-squeak. A wicked grin spread across the woman's face. With a camcorder in her hand she pressed the button to open the door, jumping into the room with a triumphant yell.
“YOU TWO ARE HAVING SEX!” Jedi Master Tahl of the Jedi Order screamed, camera trained on the bedroom at large to catch the two she had been hunting in the dirty, dirty act.
...But what she found was Senior Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, recently 18 years old, on his bed; with her own senior-level padawan, Bant Eerin, seated next to him; and then Qui-Gon Jinn, her longtime friend and Obi-Wan's Master, seated on the other side of her padawan.
There were holobooks, actual books, tablets, and paper spread about their laps and the bed.
Qui-Gon appeared to have been in the process of stretching, shifting his weight about the bed... and making it inadvertently squeak.
A heavy silence filled the room. The two eighteen-year olds on the bed slight wide-eyed, but Qui-Gon had managed to school his features to a neutral look by the time that Tahl looked at him.
The man would then look over towards his padawan.
“Really? Obi-Wan, why didn't you tell me? I would have put this horrible holobook down.”
The boy, not missing a beat, would deadpan in a somehow 'innocent' tone, “I'm sorry, Master. It must have slipped my mind.”
“And Tahl! Your poor padawan is in here. How could you let her be exposed to such adult deeds? For shame, Master Jedi. For shame.” Qui-Gon quipped, a smirk twitching the edges of his lips as he looked over to his now blushing friend.
“Shut up, you two smartasses.” The woman murmured, burying her face into one of her hands even as she continued to record the entire thing.
Poor, helpless Bant had started to giggle from her seat between the males, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention to the Mon Calamari, and the mentioned boy would let out a dramatic gasp.
“Oh no! Bant get out of the way! Oh no...!” The ginger lunged over the girl's lap, rolling onto his back and poking one of Qui-Gon's knees. “Now we're having sex on top of you! Oh, this is so uncivilized of us. The horror!”
Bant was then completely lost in laughter as Qui-Gon flopped on top of both of the two teenagers, rolling so all of them were on the ground and inducing the hysterics out of Obi-Wan now as well.
Tahl groaned, biting the inside of her cheeks before flopping down over all three.
There was a surprisingly gentle silence to come, the teenagers’ giggles dying down as they managed to be relaxed beneath the weight of their two teachers. The teachers themselves calm as well, having to use the Senior Padawans as makeshift pillows.
“...Are we having an orgy now, Tahl?”
“Qui-Gon!” The woman choked out, dissolving into laughter, and the rest of the group (including the wicked long-haired man who made the comment) fell into laughter again as well.
Tagging: @markwatnae and @prfury I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING!
Guess whose OC is meeting Anakin, you two? *throws glitter*
I can't believe the Council is having me teach a class of padawans! Anakin paused in the middle of his fuming, eyes wide as he blinked a few times. ...I can't believe the Council is trusting me to teach a class of padawans. Trust. Huh. well, now that young man couldn't decide if the reason they were filling up one of his days with teaching a mechanics course was because, a, they wanted to punish him for some unknown reason or, b, they were showing respect to his positions as a Jedi Knight, an army general, and as a teacher to his own individual padawan.
...I can't believe they're making me over think this! He released a grown before flopping down in a chair in a little nook of a room connected off of the flight hanger, rubbing a hand down his face as he awaited what was going to be his second class of a total of four throughout the day.
The first class had been absolutely horrible! No one could blame him for his hesitance and annoyance at having to endure another three. A bunch of snot-nosed teenagers who think that 'I am only a year away from being a legal adult in the galaxy!' means they know more than someone whose been alive longer and seen more in life than they ever have yet. ….Anakin knew it probably game as some sort of territory-pecking considering her was barely half a decade older than that class of students, but he was still a Jedi Knigth and a General in the war. Didn't that earn him any respect?!
The blonde stopped abruptly in his angered pacing, closed his eyes while his arms cross over his chest, and bowed his head. Breathe, Ani. Just breathe. This next class is around Ahsoka's age—he totally didn't sulk over the fact he wasn't be allowed to teach classes his padawan was actively in, and instead the age groups directly above and bellow her age—so that should mean they'll, in the least, be decent kids. Doesn't it? He didn't have much time to fret over his thoughts, for before he knew it a group of thirteen year olds were entering into what had become his little domane for the entirety of the day.
Now usually when this particular Jedi has doubtful thoughts like that, they come to bite him in the ass.
For once, they seemed not to.
He actually had a group of kids who seemed eager to learn mechanics! From him specifically! Oh, he'd have to tell Padme about this—she had teased mericlessly that he'd probably want to cry by the end of the day from the children driving him insane or not paying attention to him at all. I knew kids love me! The blonde thought, a bit giddy.
Knight Skywalker went about officially introducing himself (“Just call me Anakin or Skywalker, I'm not all for the title business”) with a grin on his face to his newest class of students, and after that began demonstrating and explaining that day's lesson.
These kids hated him.
They despised him.
They must have litereally wanted him to die in agony and horror and–
SPLAT-TA-TA-TAAA-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP!
“Sith-spit!” A youthful, perhaps male voice cursed from across the room.
“Language....” Anakin mumble out from his temporary desk, face-down in the sweet sanctuary of his arms as another sound of a failed machine met his ears. He had heard the same splatter-plopping sound a dozen times already. The last one to do it marked the thirteen. There was still another nine others in the-
SPLAT-TA-PLOOP-PLOOP-TA-TAAA-PLOOP!
There as still another eight students with machines in the class.
Padme is never gonna let me live this down. He wasn't whining. He was not whining. Anakin Skywalker did not whine; not even in in the depths of his brain!
SPLAT-TA-TA-TA-TAAAAA-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP!
Anakin groaned in the safe haven that was his pillowing arms. Why me? The young adult whined in his brain. It was taking all he had not to pull out his hair.
Honestly, how could now fifteen out of twenty-two Junior Padawan's in war time not understand the most basic set of instructions? Couldn't fix a simple machine?
The entire machine was there for each of them at their desks!
All they had to do was re-attach two parts.
He had provided a hands-on demonstration, text directions, and photo directions. He had explained that it was a delicate little system and, as long as they had steady hands and took their time, they'd be fine! He just couldn't understand why they weren't understanding it.
SPLAT-TALOOP-PLOOP-PLOOSTA-TATA-SPLAT!
He groaned into his arms again, fingers of his non-mechanical hand tugging at his hair. “Someone. Jam. A lightsaber. Into. My brain.”
“I don't think that would be healthy. And, you know.... It would kinda be murder.”
A voice piping up was not expected, especially in such a sassy little way, and Anakin nearly startled out of his chair as he came face-to-face with a rather short being. The female padawan, who looked younger than the rest of her peers, seemed to smile in an apologetic way.
“I'm sorry to startle you, Mister Skywalker—” Huh, never been called 'Mister' before, Anakin thought to himself— “But I finished my machine. I just wanted your opinion on it before I started it up.” The girl finished.
“Why do you want me to do that? None of your agemates had me do that.” The Jedi Knight prodded, curious as he sat up straighter in his seat.
The girl was silent while looking contemplative, and Anakin was expecting some sort of long, droned out, logical answer.
“Because I'm pale as all hell and don't want to be oil-stained for weeks.”
“Psh-!” He snapped a hand over his mouth to muffle of a snicker. He hadn't been expecting that. The young adult cleared his throat, composing himself as he said as he replied, “Language, little one, and I will come look at your machine. Lead the way...?”
It took moments to get to the table and start examining the device the young padawan had been charged with fixing, the same as her classmates, but... even with another sound of exploding oil filtering to his ears as background noise, his focus was on the work to this particular device. One that look near exactly like his if it wasn't for the few tiny, oily fingerprints littering the pieces that had needed reattaching.
Finally. The young adult thought to himself, and gave the short brunette a beaming smile. “Padawans, gather around! It's time to show you what this device does. I believe your classmate here—”
“Gensen.” The girl supplied helpfully.
“—that your classmate, Gensen, has successfully repaired her machine.”
A few moments later there was a chorus of nearly two-dozen awes as, after he brought out a canvas he'd stashed behind his temporary desk and flipped the switch for the machine, that it would begin spraying a picture into existence. The awes turned to laughter and amusement as the picture created was that of Grandmaster Yoda piggy-backing on Master Windu.
It wasn't long after that when it would be the time for the padawans to head off to their lunch period (each with their own copy of the painted oil-pictures after using the Force for some hand speed drying), but as they left the young knighted-general couldn't help but stop the girl who had actually done the entire thing right.
“So your name is Gensen, yeah? You mind me asking how you knew asking me first was the answer?” Anakin asked, and after a moment added appreciatively, “Not that you needed it in the end, technically speaking. The picture could have gotten sprayed on the table.”
“Well,” The girl paused, hitching her backpack over her shoulders. “You didn't tell us what the machine would do beyond that it sprays oil. And I wanted to make sure I had every piece exactly right, and there's no better way in assuring that than asking the teacher.” The girl shrugged her shoulders on her pudgy frame, hugging her souvenir of this class against her chest.
Anakin nodded with her words, “Good reasoning, little padawan. You're quite the mechanic.”
“...Eh.”
That made him arch an eyebrow. “Eh?” He parroted, disbelief and bemusement starting to spring to his face.
“Yeah, eh. I'm not a mechanic. I'm an artist.”
“Oh, really now?” He crossed his mixture of flesh-and-mechanical arms. “And what's so great about being an artist?”
The girl cocked a hip, raising an eyebrow of her own. “What's so great about being a mechanic, Mister Skywalker?”
“Creating things, making things work one way or another, and the mess of it all.” He replied without missing a beat.
Gensen grinned before saying, “Same with art. The only difference is I don't have to worry about something exploding in my face if I mess up and need to fix something—I'm not all for chemical burns and sparks and flames.” She held out her arm, rolling up her robe sleeves. “I did say I was pale as all hell, Mister Skywalker. Patches of red wouldn't look any better on me than patches of black.”
This time he couldn't stop the startled laughter even if he tried, sharing a grin with the spunky little padawan before giving her shoulder a nudge. “Go on to lunch, young one. I have to prepare for another class. And watch that language of yours, alright?.”
“Uh huh. Of course I will!” Anakin didn't believe her words for a second. She just seemed endless sass even if her personality was so genuine.
Soon enough the blonde was by himself, cleaning up for the next class as his mind wandered to who could be Gensen's Master if she managed to have such a personality as that at her age. He knew not all were strict, but he also knew that most schooled their padawans into perfect properness outside of private situations.
He was pulled from his wandering thoughts (and temptation to look up the girl's personal record out of sheer curiosity) by his commlink beeping. Pulling it out of his pocket and answering it, he grinned as his former teacher's voice filled in from the other end.
Obi-Wan would be back in just a week, and the day after that was hoping Anakin would be free to finally meet the ginger's new padawan.
Anakin grinned, having heard so much about the kid. He immediately agreed, said he'd bring Ahsoka along, and wished his former-Master well on the rest of his journey home.
When Anakin Skywalker met his sister-padawan a little over the week—an 11-year old girl with brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and a form that wasn't bone skinny—the Knight felt a sense of deja vu. He had been run busy all week training students in general education classes, so his mind was a bit scattered.
He could have sworn he'd seen her before, and shrugged it off as it being in passing before smiling and shaking the girl's hand. “Welcome to the lineage, Edie.” The blonde said, and then shared a grin with his Obi-Wan Kenobi as Ahsoka swept in with making the younger girl feel welcomed.
While happiness happened for the Jedi adults and the padawan-children, none were aware that the very same night another innocent, bright young padawan would face the extreme opposite of the word 'joy.'
If it wasn't for the clock on the table beside her, she would not have known how long she'd been in her room. Isolated, not eating, barely drinking, and crying her heart out in random spurts. Had she been in there a week? A month? Had she been rotting away for years?
No, it had only been four days. Come the next stroking of the hour in the next ten minutes, however, it would be the start of the fifth day.
Her skin and hair felt thick and itchy even without touching it, so it be understandable that without the clock the time would have felt so much longer, but even without the griminess from lack of bathing it still felt like a pain of eternity in lasting.
Gensen's eyes were welling again, she curling in on herself as one of her hands twitched in resistance to the desire of scratching. It was a habit, a nervous tick, for when she got too overwhelmed or paniced and over the passed several days each of her forearms had been scratched with trails of tiny scabs from nails too short to cut deep, but long enough to still cause damage.
No.
Her brow eyes twitched the slightest bit open, nearly black in darkness of her room that was only tempered by the faint rays trickling in from the nightlife of Coruscant outside. She didn't need a reflection to know that the skin of her face was puffy and the whites of her eyes tinted red.
One of her hands twitched again but instead of scratching it slowly, shakily moved upwards until reaching the right side of her head.
Her hair had always been long enough to end beneath her shoulder braids, brown with hints of a deep red, and naturally thick. There had always been just behind her right ear, however, the standard trimming (or growing out in a boy's case) of a five-inch section of hair for when a child of the Temple would, hopefully, become a padawan one day.
Her's had grown almost two inches over the past six months (a memory, vague from years ago, of her mother playing with her hair and saying how she was gifted with thickness and speedy growth) but now... it was trimmed back down to that starting five inches. Just four days ago, it was trimmed down. The ends of it were still painfully even. Sharp with the freshness of recent cutting.
Gensen's fingers curled around the short lock of hair, eyes stinging once more.
I'm so stupid.... The thirteen year old thought. I.... I was just a pity case! Two hands curled into as much hair as possible, grip firm and tugging as eyes squeezed shut to match the darkness that her Force Signature was dimming down to. Why else would I have been chosen mere MINUTES before getting shipped off to one of the Corps?! I'm an idiot, I'm stupid, and I'm a failure! I'm a shame to my Master and to the Order! I'm just worth-
No.
Her eyes fluttered open again. Her breath shook as it had been for days from sobbing, lung sore and throat surprisingly dry despite all of the tears she had cried. The tears she was still crying.
I might... not be a pity case.... That thought came to her slowly, a slight brightening before plunging back into the darkness, But I still failed! My Master renounced me for my own good, because I'm a failure at being a padawan
No.
My Master... was just trying to spare me pain. That's why it happened the way it-
No.
My Master was.... in the right to....
No.
A flame, smaller than the wick of a candle, slowly began to grow.
My f... former Mater only.... he only had the best intention-
No.
My former Master didn't mean to-
No.
The flame and the light it brought was continuing to grow ever more.
He didn't-
No.
He hadn't-
No. No. NO. NO!
He... h... he.... Her eyes blinked, perhaps seeing her surroundings for the first time in days. She was feeling beyond the pain and the itchiness that the griminess covering her caused. He... Her bones creaked and muscled unnaturally ached as she sat up properly in what felt like ages. He... had no care for me. She blinked again before her head raised, staring at the lights of the Coruscant night trickling in from around her blinds.
That thought was such a powerful revelation.
The Force sang around her, and the voice that had been denying her earlier trail of thoughts had yet to speak up again.
He didn't care.
The girl shimmied to the edge of her bed, light killing away the darkness that had been surrounding her as it was flipped on. The sound of the switch nearly deafening on her ears since it was the first thing she'd truly heard in days beyond her own sobs and misery. She looked to the window that was no longer her only source of brightness in the darkness surrounding her.
He didn't care.
Short fingers with red-brown grime under the nails fumbled slightly after getting the blinds up, but soon succeeded in undoing the lock and opening the window. A breeze, as refreshing as a breath of life for one who couldn't breath, filled up her lungs and tickled her greasy hair back from her face.
Her hands curled on the sill of the window, she closing her eyes and inhaling the deepest breath possible, and then exhaled as her eyes reopened. The constantly trailing tears that had been occurring during her internal war—as the external war continued to ravage the galaxy at large—had finally come to a halt.
“He didn't, and doesn't, care about me.”
She stood in silence, watching the lights of the night in the distance but, by the time she returned to stare about her room her clock red 0030 into the morning of the fifth day since her former Master had annulled their bond.
Her brown eyes trailed, taking in two boxes that held the only possession she had in the world. One held things from when she had been in the Initiate dorms the first time that held art supplies, fiction books, and a couple of journals with poems, limericks, and a few random songs she had written to help her focus on her lessons and work through her emotions. All of those thing she hadn't touched throughout her brief apprenticeship.
Her former Master had said they were unneeded distractions and items of attachment. He had told her a true Jedi focused on nothing beyond their duties
“...I am going to draw tomorrow.” She whispered aloud, even her softest voice still.
Her eyes then turned to the other box, which held things she had been given once becoming a padawan, though none of the gifts had been by her Master:
The holobooks from the padawan lessons she wasn't allowed to be a part of any longer, for she'd have to return to the Initiates courses.
The first beaded tie for her braid so that she could close off it's end, given to her by her former Creche Master.
A hair-grooming kit that had been given to her, like to all new padawans, by the Knight of Master who managed their section of the Initiate's Dorms.
One of her hands reached up to drag through some of her hair that her former Master had convinced her not to cut down at all. He had convinced her not to do it with his nickname for her on his poisonous lips...
* * *
“Oh, Genny, don't you cut your hair! You'd probably look odd if you did anything different.” Her former Master had placed a large hand on one of her shoulders, prodding her to look up at him. “Leave it long for your poor teacher, hm? I think it looks lovely upon you, Gensen.”
Gensen had hesitated a moment before she had smiled, nodding her head in a soft promise not to trim the long, thick brown locks even if she thought they were more hassle than they were worth to keep clean recently. Her Master liked them, and she'd hate to disappoint him any more than whenever he found out she hadn't been completely sticking to the diet plan he'd made up for her...
* * *
She was kneeling next to the box, staring at the few precious things within as her lips puckered. He didn't care for me. Every use of that nickname and my first name, every compliment, and even that diet plan so I could 'be healthier' and 'stronger'. He... was just trying to change me. He didn't care about me, he cared about... controlling me. Like a toy. The girl thought to herself, fingers idly running through the long hair she'd had for years.
She stood up, moving over to the corner of her bedroom and kneeling down on the mat there. Lighting the four scented candles that filled her senses with cinnamon and berries, she would close her eyes. She needed to meditate and after she'd finish that, however long the Force prodded her to remain in that state, she was definitely going to take a long shower.
I am one with the Force– she breathed in, exhaling as her thoughts faded from the world around her as the mantra pulsed with the drumming beat of blood in her veins –and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me....
Master Nam Moa and Master Uim Mau, female and male respectively of the planet Waia, were sitting at their front desk at the entrance to the section of the Initiates Dorms that they managed over. It was bright and early, the sun not even on the rise just yet, but they were awake and awaiting their daily duties.
Thus, the two Waia natives had a deck of cards between them. “Hah! In your Force, Uim. Told you I could win another hand.” Master Moa declared, cheeky grin in place as she dragged the pile of candy-leather bites to her side of the desk.
The one opposite her, the hulking man he was in comparison to her petite frame, was all but pouting as he grabbed the deck to reshuffle. “Gloating is unbecoming of a Jedi, Nam.” The man scolded, passing out the cards between themselves.
“You only say that when you lose, Uim! So come on and don't pout,” she brushed some of the curly, long brown hair behind her ear, “You know you can guilt me into sharing back your bit of the candies every time.” That got a huff, but soon both Waiaians were grinning as they dissolved back into another round of their game. They got halfway through it until they had to hurriedly shove their cards and betting supply of candies into a box and hidden from sight. Gambling could be a negative influence on the young, after all.
The one who was coming into the communal area of the Initiates dorms, however, was a sight for sore eyes even if her appearance caused surprise for more than one reason.
“Gensen!” Master Moa came out from behind the desk with Master Mau following right after her, “It's so good to see you. Also, look at your hair! It's fantastic.”
It was a fantastic sight even if striking! Gone was the two-feet of thick hair hanging from all around the girl's head, for now there was just a foot hanging from the center and a short undercut covering the rest of the scalp. All of it was brushed to cover the right side of the head. And, with the new haircut came firm shoulders, a straight back, and a radiation of returned pride that covered erased the shame that had been drowning the poor girl nearly a full six days prior. They hadn't seen her in days, leaving her to her own devices to cope, but both had been getting worried.
Master Moa had hesitated only slightly before, with a go-ahead from the girl, she had hugged the young one before moving back so Master Mau could do the same. “How are you feeling, young one? Where are you off to this morning?” The hulking man asked.
“I'm feeling alright, Master Mau,” The girl smiled, turning her attention to the other adult, “And thank you for the compliment on my hair, Master Moa! I trimmed it myself yesterday.” Out from under her arm she would pull out a piece of flimsi from her pocket. “Could one of you do me the favor of messaging my instructors that I apologize for missing my new classes all week, and that I'll be coming in tomorrow with all of my past-due work?” The two adults nodded, accepting the piece of flimsi and watching as the girl walked around them and off towards the main doors.
It was there that she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Also, I am no longer Gensen. I'll be going to the legal offices of the Temple... after breakfast, where I will be eating vanilla ice-cream, strawberries, and a chocolate muffin. Then finally, once that is all done,” She adjusted the weighted bag hanging over her shoulders, “I am going to spend the entire day walking around the halls and drawing whatever my heart sees right.” The girl gave a bow to the adults, which they returned, and then would be gone.
A bit over an hour later, once the sun had fully risen and the Temple at large was properly bustling with work and daily life, a girl from the planet Danan, named Gensen, went into the legal offices they had on temple grounds.
Another hour passing in the day, the girl would come out someone entirely new.
What will “lonely padawan’s” name be? If she is not Gensen, she has to be someone. Feel free to write your guesses! If anyone gets close, I might just giving them a little ‘guest spot’ in the next one shot. (Everyone but @markwatnae can send in guesses, anyway, cause she already knows the answer. XD)
Also! Did anyone notice the little Easter Egg I did? I’ll give you a hint; think of one of the most recent Disney movies.
Mistaken Identities: Who’s that padawan!? It’s...!
It seemed that no matter what that Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is a Jedi Master and a General in an ongoing civil war throughout the galaxy, had a rather unlucky habit of losing those he cared about or for.
Honestly, I should have expected this, he sighed as he continued down the temple hallways during the bustling of younglings during a day full of lessons, She is so very small, I should have expected I'd have a hard time finding her in the crowds. So much for trying to surprise her with my return. He had it planned, but he arrived to the learning halls a bit behind schedule and, alas, he hadn't been at the class of his tiny eleven-year old padawan before it had been released.
And thus, he lost her before even finding her! It was hard to surprise someone when there's a chance they'd see you before you saw them.
One of the few times in my life I'm actually the tallest of those around is the one time I wish not to be. The ginger male huffed a sigh. His spirits soon lifted, however, as he seemed to spot his padawan—long and brown ponytail, and tan-scale padawan clothes—kneeling down and adjusting one of her brown boots. She also was not facing towards him, so that meant he could have a chance to still surprise her after all.
He got to her just as she stood, turning around, raising her face to look ahead of herself... and both were equally shocked. He with raised eyebrows and she with a yelp of shock as the tablet she had in her hands went flying into the air.
Obi-Wan stared, dumbfounded, as the girl who was most certainly not his padawan scrambled while stumbling backwards to catch her tablet before it crashed to the ground. She did manage to catch it, but the poor thing almost went head first into the ground but thankfully he managed to fall out of his partially frozen state just in time to catch her.
“I am sorry, young one. I did not mean to startle you–” with steadying hands on her shoulders he made sure the girl was alright, looking over her feet to make sure she hadn't harmed them in her stumbling– “I thought you were my padawan and, well, I was trying to surprise her with my homecoming. It was my mistake.” His apology was genuine despite his confusion as he watched the girl straighten out her tunics.
It shouldn't have been possible though. The man pondered, slight crease furrowing his brows. It's easy to mistake physical features, sure, but the sensation of Force Aura shouldn't have been possible to mistake. It was true. His and her student's teaching bond was not always opened, so they relied on aura sensation to find each other once he returned home from the Temple. He had done that reaching, the signature dim in response but he figured she may have been practicing her shielding as she was often to do by cause of her empathy that otherwise easily overwhelmed her. How did-?
“It's alright, Master Kenobi. I should have been paying attention to my surroundings.” The girl's voice pulled him from his thoughts, causing his focus to return to her as she bowed low in greeting, “I am Padawan Gensen, and I have to say it's a nice surprise to get to meet you in person.” She rose back up, smiling at him and he felt his lips return the grin.
He nodded his head in return with a grin still in place, “It is nice to meet you as well, young padawan. Is Gensen your first or last name, young one? If we are to meet again I would hate to accidentally speak in a familiar manner.”
“Oh I don't have a last name yet, Master. I'm of the planet Danan by birth, and I haven't chosen my final name. Calling me Gensen is perfectly fine.” The girl replied with another smile and he found his own eyebrow arch slightly in a much more welcomed surprise than before.
He had known that there was another sensitive born of that planet in the Temple whom was an infant in the Creche, but he hadn't ever realized that there was another from there who seemed close in age to Edie. “Truly? Well that is something. My padawan is from there as well.” In the back of his mind gear were working, he moment away from asking the young one who her Master might be so he could try to arrange training sessions for the girls together so they could interact with someone of the same birth culture.
His mental rambling were once more cut off, however, by the girl's voice, “Your padawan that you mistook me for?”
He nodded.
“Long brown hair, pale skin, short, and a bit foofy just like me?”
Foofy? He had not heard that term used before, and the longer he looked at her similarities seem more so almost in more than just appearance, for there was an exuberance in her signature and he noted the pitch of her voice was a little deeper than Edie's. So with an arched eyebrow he nodded his head once more, his mind beginning to wander back to how it shouldn't be possible to mistake a Force Signature you're familiar to with someone not the owner.
For the third time, his mental wanderings on the oddity were once more interrupted by the short girl—a small handful of inches taller than Edie by reaching his shoulder rather than his chest—as Gensen puckered out her lips slightly, nodding, and then took a step toward him.
“If you still want to surprise her, Master Kenobi.....” The girl reached out her hands, looking up at him for permission before putting one small hand on his forearm, the other on his middle back, and nudging at him to turn.
(It was out of decorum, sure, but he found himself endeared by the seemingly natural, good-nature sass and playfulness in the action.)
“....Then I think you still have the chance. That is her, right?” He was indeed staring at his padawan in the short distance, her back to him much like Gensen's was and though the back of his mind began pondering on the odd similarities once more, he smiled on the outside in genuine glee
“Yes, it certainly is!” He could not mask his joy at all and her turned, about to thank the padawan he had startled and, perhaps, request if he'd like to meet Edie—they were born of the same world, after all—but she was... already gone. Lost off into the crowds and slipped away from sight. His brows furrowed as he found that unusual. It wasn't a common occurrence that any youngling, no matter their ranking in the Order, would walk away form a Master or a Knight without properly excusing themselves.
“Master!!”
The excited voice, one he knew this time, pulled him form a fourth mental revere and he beamed as he soon found himself receiving a tight, warm hug around his middle from his tiny padawan. They had recently gotten to such a level of physical affection that she was comfortable with and, well, no one could blame him for this hug being the longest they've shared so far; he had been gone almost a month. So he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and the other hand he rested on the top of her head.
“Hello there, padawan mine. I hope you don't mind my choosing to surprise you over messaging you that I was returning slightly early?” At the exuberant 'Of course not, Master!' he felt his smile widen more.
He quickly fell into focus on nothing but his padawan, for he only had two days planet-side before he'd have to leave for his next shipping. It wasn't until those two days passed and that he was a few hours into traveling away from Coruscant—the mixed troopers of the 212th and 501st socializing, roughhousing, and taking bets on Anakin and Ahsoka's silly competitions and duels—that he recalled that meeting with a girl who reminded him, in essence and appearance, of his tiny student.
Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant with Anakin and Ahsoka less than two weeks later and were due to be home for several weeks. However, no matter how many times he walked Edie to and from her classes in the padawan-section of the schooling area of the Temple... he never saw that girl, Padawan Gensen, again.
Quite possible she and her Master were shipped out. He rationalized, not noticing the ping of negativity the Force sent his way as he, his former padawan, his current padawan, and his former-padawan's-current-padawan headed out into the nightlife of Coruscant to go to Rex's diner.
He decided that if he ever managed to catch sight of the girl again he'd try and arrange a meeting for the two girls then but, if not, he wouldn't dwell on it.
Notice: The name “Gensen” is not this OC’s canon name! (The only ones who know it are myself and the fabulous @markwatnae) So if you wish to tag her as anything, then tag her or anything about her as “lonely padawan au”. (Why this is being called such a thing is all to be revealed in due time! *cackles*
Hey! This only updated 5 days late, and considering I was doped up on pain medication for an injury? That is a perfectly-landed feat and y’all should be proud of me.
Tagging: @markwatnae (The lovely creator of TPAU), @peskylilcritter, @devilangel657, @demad69, @tygermama, @isweariamanadmin, @wordwelder
[Ch.1]
Previous (Ch.2) | Current | Next - Coming Feb. 24th – March 3rd
Chapter 3: An unexpected series of tea, truth, tears, and nonchalance
She wanted her Master.
She had only seen Obi-Wan Kenobi roughly twenty minutes prior, but she wanted her Master. Edie wanted her family for, even though the four year old was cute, the blatant lack of existence in regards to her family was starting to grind down on her faint hold upon her emotions. The more she realized she was truly in the past (she had already pinched herself many times) the more the feelings of dread and anxiety began to well up within her.
She wanted to eat candy, make tea with Master Obi-Wan, and read old books—digital and paper—with him.
She wanted to spar with Anakin, accidentally hurt him, and get to fret over him even as he was complimenting her abilities for taking him down.
She wanted to play pranks with Ahsoka and help her fuse over the troopers if either of the battalions were planet-side on Coruscant.
She did not want a toddler version of her guardian and teacher that she had been the one to comfort.
She did not want her padawan-brother to not be alive for roughly another decade.
She did not want her best friends—from Ahsoka to the troopers—to not come into existence for even longer than that.
I want my family. The brunette thought to herself, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to keep herself out of the throws of the panic attack the Force was tickling her ears in warning to calm herself. I want Obi-Wan, I want Anakin, I want Ahsoka, Cody, Rex, and all the others. I want my family. Her hands clenched in the fabric of her pants, her eyes burned as her breathing did its best to start hitching. I want my family, I want my family, IwantmyfamilyIwantmyfamilyIwantmyfam–
“Drink.”
Edie startled, blinking back tears quickly to come cross-eyed with... a cup of tea cradled by a pair of green three-fingered hands.
A moment passed, long yet tension-free, and slowly she cupped the blue porcelain in her hands before taking a slow sip. She was about to lower it from her mouth, but the sight of the green being raising his hand in a 'Stop' motion made her freeze. “Drink all of it at once, nice and slow, you shall. Savor it, you will, but have it last a while? It will not.”
Edie hesitated, anxiety and panic still doing it's best to boil out of her young body, but then her logical side kicked in. Her Master's voice, gentle in her ear as if he was there with her in the scary, long-ago past that was now tangible far before her birth into the galaxy. Reminding her that she was still in the Temple even if it was not her own, that she was safe, and that Yoda would never harm her.
The brunette tipped the cup on her lips once more. She closed her eyes as she slowly swallowed down the rest of the warm drink.
It was.... minty.
Mint was the first thing that stuck out to her. As she sipped more, slowly draining it all away as it flooded her tongue, there were traces of chocolate that grew more clear the longer she drank.
And the there was the absolute warmth of it all combined. The warmth of the tea was swirling like petals in the wind come blooming season, filling her up and running away the chill of stress that had settled upon her.
It startled her a little when her lips met wetness no further, she blinking as she lowed the cup and saucer from her mouth before looking at a grinning, ancient, beloved troll capable of using the Force.
“What was in that, Master Yoda? Some sort of soother?”
“Bah, chocolate and mint only. Believe in simple comforts I do, young one. Perk it is, if delicious.” Yoda let out a chuckling, and Edie found herself smiling as all of her current flooding of negative emotions were lost to the Force.
Unfortunately, it was seconds later that her face fell flat and paled. She dropped the dishes to the carpeted ground.
A bond thrummed with pure terror in her mind, and she was not used to being flooded with such intense emotions that were not her own. Not the negative kind, anyway.
“What is the matter, young one?” Yoda asked, humor gone and clear concern in his voice but it had no effect on her at first. Edie had simply stood there a moment more....
Less than a heartbeat, actually.
She scrambled to pick up the spilled tea-cup and saucer. Thankfully it had been empty. “I-I'm so sorry, Master Yoda, but I have to leave right now! I won't leave the Temple and I'll be back later. I promise!”
There was no time to wait for a response. Edie ran as if her life depended on it.
Or rather, she was running for a life that she didn't personally possess. But, considering who she was connected to, it was technically her life she was running for.
Her anxiety was mounting as she raced through the Temple, past other Jedi, and into the depth of a room that smelled of a mixture of fresh-water and chemicals that kept the waters as such.
She was blinded and saw nothing until wet curls and big green-blue eyes were in her sight.
“Obi-Wan!”
There was a flurry of movements, a wail, before she was kneeling and hugging a sobbing child in her arms.
She hugged the shaking little body in her arms, whispering soft comforts and taking off her padawan robe, wrapping it around the young boy to bundle him up for some kind of warmth. He truly was chilled to the bone.
She had no idea what had been happening, but she felt Obi-Wan's stress and lingering fear in the Force; what was still inside of him, for there was strong amounts of some kind of evilness having almost occurred that tainted the room filled with bright, aquatic life.
“It's alright, Obi-Wan. You're safe.” The girl whispered, pressing a kiss idly to the side of the little ginger's head before standing up with him on her hip.
It was then that she looked up, blinking at the tall figure standing up by the large pool.
Oh.
She hadn't noticed that there was someone in the room, but considering she felt no fear from the one she was holding on her hip when the young attention was turned the same way she was looking? It was near instantly clear that Edie was staring at a savior and not the potential doer of evil. He was tall and clearly a few years older than herself, wearing a padawan braid with the rest of long-and-dark hair pulled into a tie behind his head, blue eyes, pale skin, and soaked to the bone just like the child she held.
The other padawan's features taken in she bowed, ducking her head before raising straight once more. “Thank you for whatever you did to save him from, well, whatever was happening in here.” Edie hugged Obi-Wan a little closer, resting her chin against the side of his head, “I felt his stress and I got here as soon as I could, but-”
“No thanks needed.” The boy spoke, and he wore a smile that almost made her think of her Master—the adult version—when he was speaking with those he needed to be diplomatic with. Or when he spoke of those he didn't like, like with how he spoke with Anakin on the topic of Chancellor Palpatine, whom she was supposed to meet in about week... and around thirty years from the current time.
She was pulled from her wandering thoughts by the boy speaking once more, “The young one didn't deserve what was happening. No one did.” The firmness of declaration did nothing to comfort her lingering anxiety from not knowing what had happened just yet, but the goodness of it brought a smile to her face.
“Obi-Wan is his name, yes? That's what you called him?” The boy continued, “It's nice to know the name of my young rescuee, but may I know yours Padawan....?” His voice trailed off, but his face spoke of the 'kind' expectation of wanting to know who she was.
Well, far be it for me to be rude. Especially to a fellow padawan, for being in a different time isn't an excuse for a lack of manners. The girl thought, though a tickling in the back of her brain almost felt like Anakin and Ahsoka were right there, on her shoulders, whispering sass and snark into her mind. The voice of her Master was there as well; scolding and giving the voice of reason over the two troublemakers.
“I'm Padawan Edie and, yes, his name is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Smile still in place she kept her face a perfect picture of pristine innocence. At least, she assumed she did. In all honesty her lineage line always claimed she looked constantly innocent, but she was being raised by a negotiator and knew how to use appearance to an advantage.
“And again–” the short brunette hiked the ginger-haired Crecheling a little higher on her hip– “I can't help but thank you for saving him from whatever happened. So, thank you Padawan....?” Her eyes upon him as her words trailed off, browns almost meeting blue, she saw as the boy's expression became more genuine and felt a twitch in the Force and a slight tingling in her eyes. She was not one with the Unifying, though her Master and padawan-brother were, but the Living Force seemed to be ruffling it's feathers in a near content way at such a subtle change in the teenager.
Speaking of, her attention returned he gave a half-bow respectfully fitting for when addressing one who was younger and not of the same standing, for the titles of 'junior' and 'senior' for apprenticeships was more than just an age-divider. “I am Padawan Xanatos Du Crion,” The teenager smiled, “It is a pleasure to meet.....”
Edie knew he was speaking more, and that it was rude of her to be staring at him as wide-eyed as she could feel herself doing.
Xanatos.
Her teacher and guardian's lineage-brother whom he had never gotten to meet until after the elder's abandonment of the Order to become a Dark Jedi.
It had occurred as a flickering thought in her mind that there would be many alive, around, or still members of the order if they had left.
In pertaining to her own line of heritage, she had not thought that far ahead even if she had spent the majority of the morning (after noon? She was unsure of the time of day) with Master Yoda. However, it was not the realization of who this teenager was that caused her such stillness and surprise, for her mind had raced a thousand parsecs in a moment's notice to focus on one tiny, loan fact that if Xanatos was here, and still very clearly a jedi, then that would mean....
My... grandmaster is ali–?
“Are you alright?” Edie startled, looking to the boy who was no frowning at her with a touch of concern but she swore she saw a flicker of curiosity. “You looked slightly dazed.... you aren't prone to visions, are you? Of the Unifying? I am of it myself, though was not granted such a gift by the Force.”
She just stared at him, it taking a moment for her wits to return, but then quickly she gave a smile. “Oh! Oh, um, no. I'm one of the Living Force, not the Unifying.” She offered up a smile, that moment being enough to cover up thinking of an excuse. “I was just...” The brunette then turned around, beginning on the path to exit the room since the child in her arms had finally calmed down, but was still cold to the touch even through her tunic despite it having been a handful of minutes since he'd been saved from the water. “I was just trying to remember where I've heard your name before. You're... Knight Jinn's padawan, right?”
He as taller and she knew this, but it didn't stop her from startling when the response he gave to her question was a surprising chuckle from beside her, rather than behind still.
“Yes he is, though you're wrong by the title.”
She knew her confusion but be clear on her face as she glanced up at the boy, for he added, “He may only be 38 years old, but he is already a Master.” A button was pressed by the boys hands and they continued on, Edie's eyebrows scrunched up in further confusion until shooting up in shock a moment later the boy added, “He had a padawan before me, and after seeing him to Knighthood, the Council rewarded my teacher with his Mastership as a Jedi.”
There was another padawan? Her Master had another padawan-brother out in the galaxy somewhere.
“Really? Wouldn't he have been too young to have taught you and another by now? What's the other one's name?” The girl asked quickly in rapid-succession, barely holding back a wince at how eager she sounded for information. One rule of negotiation was to never show too much thirst for knowledge in something that should be a neutral topic even if it was one of interest.
Thankfully, the boy did nothing more but arch an eyebrow. “In a usual circumstance, most likely, but he only taught his padawan for two years,” The duo had made quite a bit of distance already, and neither noticed the stairs that were lingering after them for two different reasons; interest at the unfamiliar face, and seeing a very familiar and usually stuck-up being having a seemingly civil conversation with one other than Qui-Gon Jinn. “His name is Feemor Gard, and he was 18-years old when Master Jinn took him on to finish his training.”
Why didn't I know about this? Why didn't Obi-Wan, Anakin, or Ahsoka ever tell me? The girl wondered as the duo of two trotting a totting-third to the Healing Halls fell into a casual silence. ...Did he do something bad? Did he Fall too? Did he die? The girl wondered and, unable to hold off for more than five minutes, she decided that some things she'd never know until she got home.
Well, if she got home that was. No, no! No thinking like that, brain! Be positive, not negative. Despite her words being from her own-brain-to-itself it didn't have much effect, for the body didn't like listening without reason, so she decided to distract herself by asking more questions on this lineage-uncle she had formerly not known the existence of.
“How old is he? Master Jinn's graduated padawan?”
“Well he's ten-years older than myself, and thirteen-years younger than my Master. I don't exactly remember his birthday,” a look of disbelief must once more be clear on her face at such a declaration, a very firm expression of 'Really? Really?' for Xanatos blushed slightly. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But either way, knowing the exact date or not, he is either already 25-years old, or in the least will be rather soon.”
“Why did Master Jinn take Knight Feemor on if he was already 18-years old? Didn't he have a Master before him?” She couldn't resist asking. It was odd to have such a well of information to the past... while in the past.
“Now that, though not a happy fact, is one I know for certain.” He offer a dry yet genuine smirk, glancing down at her as they walked through the large, swishing doors that lead into the Healing Halls.
Edie smiled a little back at the boy's growing openness, even if still barely existent, as the doors swished back shut after their entrance. It was time to get a certain little Crecheling checked over.
A chuckle was the first thing released as he heard doors swish to an open, and Master Qui-Gon Jinn was hunched over in a stretch. He knew it was instantly by both bond and Force signature.
“There you are, my wayward padawan. I've been hear nearly an hour, rather like the amount of time you claimed it would take myself to get here,” His voice was full of a mixture of tease yet mild scolding, the man standing up, straightened his training clothing, “However, I can't lie how much it tickles me... that....”
His words trailed off, steel-blue meeting grey-blue. There was a set of blinks from either of them, while each simply stared back at the other.
“...Xanatos?”
“Yes, Master?”
“Why, in the name of the Force, do you look like a drowned womp-rat?”
“Probably because I was in an aquatic-life pool with my clothing on, Master,” The boy walked further into a room, moving to sit on a bench before beginning stripping down to his under-tunics. “Water does make things wet on most planets in the galaxy.” Clothing now hung on the bench beside himself, Xanatos proceed to shed his boots and socks, both equally damp as the rest of him, since their sessions usually involved no shoes. “Though–” he sat there, running his fingers through his hair before standing and redoing it as he moved to a corner of the room “–there are the few planets that rain acidic water, and there is also that moon which holds carnivorous micro-organisms in its entire water supply.”
The boy fell silent a few long moments, rummaging through the cabinet for a spare set of training robes that would fit him. The poor Master Jedi in the room, Qui-Gon, had been doing his best to keep track of all this babbling and silently searched for an answer in all of the rambling. He found none at all unfortunately, and he sent a small wave of thanks to the Force that his padawan had yet to notice the undoubtedly gobsmacked expression he must be wearing.
Finally removing a set of training clothes in his size, he watched as Xanatos pulled them on over his semi-dry under-tunics before finally finishing his slight babbling with a simple, “I am very certain in those circumstances that water technically dries or violently burns, and in the other leave scarring or death by mauling.”
The two were finally looking at each other once more.
Another set of blinks was once more granted from each other.
“Xanatos.” Qui-Gon's tone was firm, though most of it was due to confusion rather than discipline.
“Yes, Master?”
“Why were you even in one of the Temple's aquatic-life pools?” Not that the man was against the fun of youth—Mace Windu, his friend and lineage-uncle (the little kriff was only 18-years old and was held dear to the man's heart, but that boy just never let up on his 'position of authority' in their lineage unless Qui-Gon's former teacher was around, for Yoda just encourages the teasing) had said many a time that long-haired man acted very immature for his age and rank. Qui-Gon never denied it, for he enjoyed a good time and following the will of the Force. If the Force said have fun then, by the stars, he'd have it.
However, he was still a Jedi. He was a jedi, and connected to the Living Force.
He encouraged his padawan to enjoy himself, sure, but Xanatos could have hurt whatever creatures were assigned into that pool! Some of them have extremely delicate ecosystems that should not be disturbed unless by a sanitized, aquatic-raced Jedi handler.
Xanatos sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. There was a long, hanging silence before sound once more filled the room.
A muttered, grumbling sound that was hard to understand even with their Master/Apprentice mental bond.
“Can you repeat that, padawan?” Qui-Gon asked, eyebrows arched. His boy was not one for muttering in any circumstance, no matter how angry he was. It interested and concerned the man all in one go.
Another sigh was his response, before Xanatos moved past the man and back to the bench to pick up his lightsaber from it's place next to his wet clothing. “I said, 'I got pranked by some Initiates'. Some younglings got one over on me, okay?”
Qui-Gon's eyebrows shot up even higher after the information was now given clearly.
Xanatos took that as a prompting for more information. “I was on my way here, a boy stopped and asked me for some help in naming some species for an assignment in one of the aquatic rooms.” The boy bent over, beginning his stretches and Qui-Gon began to mimic his student in order to finish his own interrupted exercises.
“When I got there we both bent over a pool, he pointed one out but I couldn't see it... and then a friend of his popped out and pushed me in.” The boy stood up straight, stretching his arms out now, “To be fair to them it was partially an assignment for a class. They're practicing Force-stealth in their learning group. You didn't receive any calls, so I obviously let them live.” The boy looked irritated despite the apparent kudos he gave to the unnamed Initiates, but Qui-Gon was impressed with the boys maturity when one disregarded the last bit that was tacked on. The man couldn't resist chuckling at the teen’s dead-pan.
Qui-Gon stepped forward, clapping a hand onto the younger's shoulder. “I see. If that is the case, the only answer is to exercise quite a bit to work the chill from your bones. And then, after I've turned you into exhausted mush, we shall go to that buffet I promised.... and perhaps to that dessert place with your favorite cakes after that.”
Master and student shared a grin, and the training for the day would begin.
Unknown to Qui-Gon, but the Force had done something rare in the past few minutes; it had helped a student successfully lie to their teacher.
Heya! It only took a month, but I finally finished the second chapter. College tried to kill me, but here we are!
Tagging: @markwatnae (The lovely creator of TPAU), @peskylilcritter, @devilangel657, @demad69 — I’d tag more of you who reblogged, but tumblr isn’t letting me! I think these are the ones y’all mainly saw it from anyway so there’s at least that.
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Chapter 2: If the Stoic Bastard saves a baby from you, ya need to reevaluate yourself
Edie's eyes were beginning to well up. Upon noticing this fact, Obi-Wan seemed shocked before his own eyes began to well in response for, seemingly, feeling bad because he saw his own scolding of her as the only thing that could have created the tears.
Of course, seeing such a tiny and young version of her Master clearly tearing up made her eyes water even more and... it was escalating.
It just quickly became a speedy, endless cycle that needed less than a minute to become a full mess of tears and clinging hugs. Both were overwhelmed for different reasons, and both feeling bad for seemingly making the other upset. It was a hopeless situation that seemed to hold no end to it in sight, truly. That is, that would have been the case before three quiet, yet still echoing clacks! of something that sounded vaguely wooden startled both of them.
“Very old, I am.” The familiar voice connected to a familiar figure began to hobble towards them down the hall, “Yet seen two younglings crying for no reason, until now, I have not.” With that surprising amount of speed (when desired) that is still commonly seen even decades later, Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Temple was standing before the duo wearing that expression that trademarked expression that always portrayed everything-yet-nothing as he observed.
Edie was left blinking yet a sense of relief soon washed over her. Yoda. If anyone could help her, it wouldn't definitely be her Great-Great Grandmaster... even if there was a high chance that she didn't even exist yet, considering the tearful little ball of ginger in her arms.
“Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan gasped tearfully, rubbing at his eyes as the green being smaller than the two children finally made it right in front of them. “I... I-I was bad! I made p.... I made Pad-wan Edie c-cry cause I yelled! And... a-an' then I started cryin' and-!” The youngling shushed with a hiccup of surprise as the end of the ever-familiar gimmer stick of the Jedi Order's Grandmaster would lightly poke upon the tip of his little nose. Edie herself recognized the act, for she had been at the literal end of it many times, but it seemed the one she held was still new to experiencing such a thing.
“Upset is needed not, Obi-Wan. Sure I am, reason for this padawan's tears, you did not truly create. Yes?” The first of Yoda's words had been spoken to the boy, but the last had been more meant to the brunette girl.
“Ye-...Yes! I mean,” Edie reached up a hand to rub at her cheeks, giving a gentle smile to the little boy she held even if it was slightly strained. “You didn't make me cry, Obi-Wan. I was just shocked by something. Okay? You were not 'bad' at all.” The explanation was vague and told nothing, and though intriguing for Yoda it was perfectly placating for one so young.
Thus, it was with sniffles on the boy's part, and with gentle wiping of tears from said boy's chubby cheeks on the girl's own part, soon both children stood towering at varying levels over the grandmaster of the Jedi Order.
The group of three just stood there. The children, of course, each beginning to squirm in a way that was oddly similar under the searching eyes of the green elder. In response to this, he had merely hummed thoughtfully.
“...Obi-Wan, back to Master Ali-Alaan you will go. Your new friend, I will take care of.” Yoda finally declared.
Now, just as oddly similar scrunches of noses and slight furrowing of brows had come upon their faces! Neither voiced any disagreement out-loud. Yoda let out a soft, air chuckle before turning and beginning to hobble the way off.
They soon reached an intersection in the halls. The Grandmaster sent the little boy one way that would likely lead him to his Creche Clan, and then he turned to smile at the girl still with him before leading off to one of the nearby elevators.
He was a teenager, and thus he knew the ways of the galaxy.
And one thing he knew was an infinite, concrete, immobile truth of space and time was the fact that his Master liked to talk.
And talk.
And then, when you think he's done talking, he talks even more.
By the Force, why does he talk so much? He had never figured that out, though he's been asking that question to himself over-and-over through the past few years. We were supposed to start training almost an hour ago, but he keeps stopping to talk to people! We're going to run out of reservation time in the dojo, the boy shifted from foot to foot, resisting the urge to sigh. Kriff, I'm starving. I almost wouldn't mind missing the training. Ah, the wonders of the hunger caused by puberty. He had yet to hit his growth spurt, but he bet it would be rather soon. He was almost as tall as his chatty, care-free Master. Sometimes, he genuinely wondered if they were finally at eye level with one another that, possibly, he'd stop taking up so much valuable time and keep the promises he made.
Promises such as they'd start their dojo training at 10 galactic-standard time, and that they'd actually eat lunch on time after their usual two-hour training sessions.
Yet here the man was! Talking to some annoying little youngling who wanted to ask about one of the man's past exploits because he was writing a report about it for some meager little history class. It was annoying, really, how many youngling idolized his teacher. He used to enjoy how popular the man was, but over the years he just found it grating on his nerves.
“Master,” He began, the one who had recently reached his 15th birthday straightening his seated posture as attention was turned back to him, “May I head to the dojo to begin my katas while you finish helping Youngling... Billaba?” There had been a slight hesitation on the name, but the way the young girl seemed to light-up told him that he'd managed to remember correctly. “That way we won't be too far behind course for the day.”
The tall, tree-like man (which was a fitting analogy, considering said man was connected to the Living Force) smiled at him with a sparkle in his eyes. “Of course, my padawan. Are you sure, however, that you aren't simply wishing to make sure that we manage to get to lunch on time? Especially since I promise to take you to a certain buffet-establishment as a late birthday gift?”
The teen would deny that his cheeks felt a bit heated now, eyes squinting from the teasing before in rarely used movement out of decorum, he simply shrugging his shoulders while simultaneously resisting the urge to roll his eyes when the young-one giggled.
His teacher chuckled, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder. “Of course you can, padawan. I'll be along momentarily. I promise.”
The boy rose from the chair he had begun to feel glued to, nodding his head in acknowledgment, “Alright, Master. I shall see you in an hour then.” He replied, the slightest of smirked twitching his usually stoic face as he dodged a scolding cuff-to-an-ear, bolting his way from the sitting room and giving the slightest wave over his shoulder at the call of 'Cheeky brat!' that followed him.
He began on what should have been a direct path to Training Room A, nodding his head in a brief sign of respect to any Knight or Master he passed, and in the least glanced at the child or two he passed in a show of noticing their existence.
It was while nearing his destination that he felt a tickling of... something. He was one with the Unifying Force, though not prone to visions, but he did feel nudges and influences from the world around him on occasion. He mainly felt them in the reckless situations his Master tended to get them in, and listened without hesitation in those instances. In this, however, he paused momentarily, closed his eyes, and focused on listening to what they may be saying.
The teen heard no words due to the rarity of the Force ever speaking directly of it's desires, but he definitely felt the figurative string pulling him to a different part of the Jedi Temple.
Eyes opening, the boy followed a will that was not necessarily his own.
The Temple was a place of the Light, rarely filled with anything unhappy and warm beyond the anxieties of 'Will I pass my trials?' or 'My thirteenth birthday is soon, what if I'm not picked?' or 'My padawan is going through such a rebellious phase, what if it's a sign of something more?' sorts of things, but otherwise nothing too worrying.
So it was understandable that, once he was hit with a wave of anxiety and fear after rounding a corner, that he came to a an abrupt halt in his movements out of pure surprise alone.
What in the stars is this? The boy wondered, glancing up at the sign along the wall and see he was heading in the direction of one of the aquatic-life observance rooms. They had many rooms in the Temple, for lessons teaching or for the ways that people difference in how they connected to the Force for meditation. He understandably had no idea why he was feeling such strong and dark emotions. Someone trapped in a horrible vision? An Initiate in a panic-attack who had run off for some solitude to work through it?
The teenager stood there, trying to dissect why the Force would bring him here to just seemingly help somehow through a bad time. In fact, he was moments away from figuratively scoffing at the life around him and returning the way he came.
Of course it was at that moment where many things happened simultaneously. Large amounts of fear and anxiety melted into the purest, most unadulterated version of tailor he had ever felt in his 15 years of life so fair. If that alone didn't convince him, then the high-pitched scream that cut off rather abruptly definitely did.
And if even that didn't convince him to not turn away, than the pull of the Force filling him with an urgency did whatever work the other two might not have fulfilled.
He bolted down the hallway, passing the rooms blindly until getting to the largest one that set up one of the various (yet few) dead-end hallways of the Temple. He opened the door as silently as possible, hand on the hilt of his lightsaber as he quickly found his way down the paths of aquarium tanks. He was taking precaution due to he being unsure of what he may find himself needing confront, but the urgent whispering of the Force in his ears had him moving quickly just the same.
He came to a stop, stilling as he heard laughter mixed with the sounds of splashing... and then the sound of gasping coughs—in a higher pitch than the laughter—before it was choked off and the laughter picked back up even louder.
He jumped around the corner, startling at the sight two boys whom were knelt next to the pool and... seemingly holding the head of a struggling, smaller child beneath the surface.
He stared momentarily, shocked, but then rage swirled inside of him. “What in Sith-Hells are you doing?!” He startled the two Initiates who turned to stare at him, they're grips still keeping the child pinned beneath the water. The teenager's glare was firm as he took a step forward, and the boys responded instantly. They lifted the tiny child from the water only to lift and toss him deep into the pool, the tiny landing with a hard splash and a head of red-hair popping up with gasping cries of fear before falling back beneath the surface.
The teenager made no move to stop the two little monsters as they ran pass him to escape wrath and punishment as he rushed forward, hesitating not a moment before diving into the pool.
The Force stilled as a few bubbles popped on the surface of the water; the universe watched. The universe waited.
Agonizingly long second later a large splash came as he clear the surface, and the Force moved once more as the teen with long, black clutched the ginger-haired little boy to his chest. The child was coughing, spewing out water through his lips and staring around wildly in his fear.
Soon the child looked up at the one who had saved them as they floated in the water, silvery-blue eyes meeting greenish-blue in a mixture of wide-eyed shock over what had just occurred. The breathing of a little chest hitched, eyes of the young holder growing a kind of wet that wasn't created by the observance pond , and he began wailing.
This of course made the teenager feel awkward, but old instincts from years ago when he'd had a little sister to care for managed to kick in just slightly. He wrapped his arm more firmly around the boy, using his other to take them back to the edge of the pond while muttering the soft words of comfort he was capable to manage while so far out of practice, “It's alright.... It's all over. Those brats are gone, and you're safe. Look, see? We're almost to the edge, kid. You're fine.” He got to the edge, putting the child on the grass surrounding the pond-area before pulling himself out. His words seemingly hadn't helped at all yet, for the kid was still sobbing, but at least he seemed to have calmed slightly now that he was no longer in the water.
He stiffened momentarily as the tiny form scrambled into his lap, but wet wrapped around wet and he found himself hugging an arm around the kid once more. Another hesitation, but slowly he moved his free hand to cup at the back of a red-haired head of soaked hair.
“Hey now, none of that. You just got out of the water where you couldn't breathe, there's no use crying and messing up your air even more, you know.” The teenager muttered, and it seemed the child had thankfully calmed enough that such words assisted in startling away the tears rather than encouraging them further. “There we go, see? Now, what's your name? I should probably alert your Creche Master after I get you to the Healing Halls.” The boy asked, loosening his hold so the child could pull back.
“I'm... I'm O-” The child started coughing, and he was quickly shifted so he could empty the water still in his lungs onto the grass rather than onto his savior. Said savior may already be wet, but there was a different between tank-water and the same water being thrown up on oneself.
It took a long minute or two before the kid had calmed, face flushed from exertion. “Feel better?” The child nodded in response. “Good. Now, what is your name?”
“I'm-”
“Obi-Wan!” The sound of another voice, feminine, succeeded in startling them both. (The teenager would scold himself later for being so off guard, though it was understandable that seeing someone that was all but a toddler almost get murdered by other children would cause a notable distraction from observing one's surroundings.)
The sight that met both boys of two ages was that of a girl who seemed to be a padawan. She was completely unfamiliar to the teen, and only barely familiar to the child.
The boy, named Obi-Wan apparently, let out a wail with a fresh-wave of tears. He bolted from the teenagers arms over to the girl who instantly knelt to accommodate the child. “Oh, look at you. You're soaking wet and chilled to the bone. What in the stars happened to you?” The girl was murmuring this soft worries between words of comfort that had been much gentler than his own, and in the back of his mind he was faintly impressed by the fact the girl managed to scoop the child up in an almost cradling hold. With how short the girl looked, he didn't think it be possible.
The 15-year old rose to his feet, gaining the attention of the younger padawan (now that he took time to observe her, he assumed she was anywhere from 10 to 12). The girl only seemed to have just noticed his presence, having only had sights for the little boy, and he was feeling another faint tick of being impressed as she bowed with the boy now on her hip.
“Thank you for whatever you did to save him from, well, whatever was happening in here. I felt his stress and I got here as soon as I could, but-”
The teenager held up a hand to cut off the babbling, offering a small smile he usually saved for when he and his Master were on political missions. He didn't know this girl, had never seen her, yet she wore padawan attire.... even though, he remained neutral for now.
“No thanks needed,” He replied, doing his best to embody the mature stance and tone he'd seen many Knights and Masters take when talking. Granted, it was a slightly tough feat to make when one appeared like a drowned rat, but still he pushed on with his words, “The young one didn't deserve what was happening, no one did.” His voice was firm with this, and the girl smiled at him. Odd, she seems so very open. He'd ponder that later, for now he wanted to get as much information as possible on this strange girl who, barely a padawan, seemed to have claimed she had some sort of bond with the Crecheling.
“Obi-Wan is his name, yes? That's what you called him? It's nice to know the name of my young rescuee, but may I know yours Padawan....?” He trailed off, leaving it open.
“I'm Padawan Edie and, yes, his name is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The girl smiled again, and the teenager found himself further intrigued by such an emotional peer. It almost reminded him of the man who had been raising and teaching him over the past six years. “And again, I can't help but thank you for saving him from whatever happened. So, thank you Padawan....” She paused, looking at him with the same expectant look he had given her moments before. He could respect this mirroring of tactic. The elders influenced the juniors, after all.
His smirk turned just the slightest bit more genuine than politely neutral, the teenager gave a half-bow to the one he towered over. “I am Padawan Xanatos du Crion. It is a pleasure to meet you, Padawan Edie and Youngling Obi-Wan, though circumstances could be better.” He once more felt his curiosity peak, eyes tweaking the slightest bit into a squint at the wave of surprise he felt from the girl.
Really now, what was so shocking about hearing his name?
Song: Light – Sleeping at Last
Potential Trigger-Warnings: Brief mention of past-infant death. Mention of premature birth. (If there's anything I missed, let me know!)
Other Info: Mylei is pronounced “May-Lee”, and Gens is pronounced “Jens”
Also, I promise this ends happy! Just hang in through the angst that happens in the middle. I swear it ends happy! *salutes*
The Teeny Padawan AU belongs to @markwatnae
He didn't know why the Force was calling him to a planet.
The Force rarely gives you things listen to without a reason, but it often did not give those reasons.
Yet here he was! He was following the annoying prodding of the Force a few scant weeks after the most trying, traumatizing, stressing moment of his life on the otherwise beautiful planet of Naboo.
No, not stupid prodding.,Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi ammended in his mind, as if to give a silent apology to what had created all things in the galaxy. It’s annoying, yes, but not stupid. I'm getting urged towards a planet for some reason, I'm just not sure what that is. The fact he was reason-less beyond having the Force urging him had created some contention among the Council, yet they'd allowed it.
His padawan named Anakin Skywalker, on the other hand, had been a little less graceless in such a shaky cause.
Especially when the newly turned 10-year old had been told he couldn't come along.
It had made Obi-Wan feel guilty in ways he couldn't understand, for though the boy had all but thrown a tantrum it had been the desperation in it that had created the thick emotion in the adult.
After a brief sit-down where the man explained it was for safety, for he knew not what the Force was leading him to, and he had also explained that it was rare for padawans younger than 12 to leave the Temple in a risky situation? Anakin had calmed enough by then to listen, but only after he had been physically held and had broken down from using his fists to just simply having his eyes tear in frustration.
Apologizes made and comforts given, Obi-Wan had left the next day with a promise to maybe bring the boy back a small, secondary birthday present from the world he was heading too.
That had perked up any lingering sadness in the boy. His worries were still clearly flickering through their fledgling bond, and he couldn’t blame him for that worry. The boy had been ripped away from the only life he'd know after all, and he had become the child’s rock. It made sense he'd go into a panic with the news he'd have to be separated from him for stars-know how long.
Stop thinking of Anakin! You're supposed to be meditating. Ah, there was that little voice in his head. His conscious. He was almost tempted to just argue with it, but then the voice reminded him that talking to one's self like that was considered a sign of insanity. So, with that decided, he evened out his breathing properly and returned to the beginnings of meditating.
...Perhaps the Force is sending me into another war or battle? The last few happened within a year of one another, so it would make sense for it to throw another one at me even faster. Now that little voice was yelling at him for being a smartarse at his own self.
Yes, insanity was coming on.
Definitely time to meditate.
He had used the Force to guide his hand when he went about setting the coordinates to his destination. Foolishly, he hadn't checked what planet he was being prodded towards after he had all but ghost-input directions for after the information had popped up.
So, understandably, it was his own fault that his eyebrows shot up in surprise when it was time to take over from the autopilot less than a day later.
A system not too far from the core at all, Wardlow sector, and the planet Danan of all places! It was almost like the secondary capital beside Coruscant. If it had been in the center of the galaxy there was little doubt it would have been the capital planet rather than the current. The reason? Force sensitives popped up plenty on the planet. In fact, it was so common that there was even a small school run by Jedi in the capital city. The Danan's rarely sent their children away to the actual Order with how treasured a life of connections was for their culture the Jedi Order accepted this, but it was dangerous to leave so many young one untrained.
Thus, the school. Where children were raised with just enough of the Light Side's teachings in order to prevent injury to others or their own person.
But even with a few actively on planet to teach, other Jedi frequently stopped by in general, and there was no visible distress as he went through the process of customs and landing on the planet.
So why was he hear?
It wasn't something with the school, for he was being prodded to one of the smaller cities.
Upon landing, and with nothing but the Force to guid him, Knight Kenobi began to walk blindly about the night-life population.
And that's what brought him to this moment.
“NO!”
Somehow, he had ended up in a hospital. The scream startled him, and he watched as a clearly pregnant woman was wheeled by on a bed by group of nurses and a doctor.
The scream had held desperation and anger.
For reasons he didn't know, an odd mixture of the Force's prodding and familiarity, he followed after the group.
“Take me back to my rooms, take me back! I am NOT birthing my daughter yet! It's too soon!” The woman grabbed at the doctor's uniform, “You said you'd stop the contractions. You promised me! You promised me on the honor of your names!”
The doctor looked pained, wrapping his hands around the woman's as the nurses continued to push the bed off.
“I'm sorry, Mrs Metic, but for some reason the drugs simply aren't....”
The rest of the words were lost on Obi-Wan's ears as something clicked into place.
Metic.
Metic.
He'd hadn’t heard that name in such a long time.
His mind flashed back over a decade prior. To a time when he had been nothing but a mere 7-years of age and his mentor, an older Initiate, hadn't been chosen as a padawan. Her choice, rather than joining any of the Jedi-run work forces, had been to return to her homeworld. They had kept in contact at first, but eventually the teachers had convinced him to wean off of the communications. They had seen it as an attachment. Despite this, he had always remembered her. The girl had been one of the first outside of his Creche Clan or overall age group that he had made friends with.
She had been like an older sister. The way that Master Tahl had once been like a mother for him.
Hell, he had even helped her pick out her own last name when he'd practically still been a toddler!
“Mylei? Mylei Metic?” The Knight called, and the group stopped moments from the 'Restricted Access' doors of the natal department.
The woman on the bed turned her head in her desperate despair, hazel eyes lighting up in reconiztion as, with unpracticed touch, she reached out in the Force to the familiar signature of such an old friend.
“Obi?” Wonder turned to sweet relief, a sob of happiness leaving her through her otherwise distressed moment. “Obi-Wan!” The woman gasped, reaching out for him and he instantly moved over to take her hand.
The group, seeing the woman calmed, continued through the doors. No one questioned the Jedi being there for the time being, especially since it was keeping the mother calm.
“What exactly is happening?” The ginger-haired man asked, keeping a firm grip of comfort on the girl's hand.
“She's going into early labor, Master Jedi. The medications we used to try and cancel the contractions just simply aren't working the way they should,” The group hurried thorugh another set of double-doors. “The child is already all but in the birth canal, and we can't truly know her chances of survival until the girl has been born.”
Obi-Wan nodded, graved, and gave his friend's hand a squeeze as the woman let out a whimper of despair.
Much sooner than anyone in the group wanted, they were in a birthing room in the Natal Intensive Care Facility of the hospital.
He hadn't expected the Force to seemingly lead him to a planet to reconnect with a long-lost friend.
He hadn't expected the Force to have that friend beg him to be in there as the baby was delivered, because her husband was on the literal other side of the planet with their soon to be second-youngest child and she hadn't been able to get hold of him, and the rest of her children were being kept at their grandmother's home.
Over all else, he definitely hadn't expected the Force to lead him to the birth of a baby who, once born, the doctors had examined and then softly declared that she would be impossible to save.
The girl was tiny, having been inside of her mother for barely 21 weeks, and everything about her was impossibly small. From toes and a nose to the stuttering heart and barely-filling lungs from little, almost nonexistent wheezes of air puffing past the baby's lips.
She hadn't cried when she'd been born. Her eyes hadn't opened at all in response to the light of the room.Her body was seemingly too weak to respond to anything, and far to tiny for any of the equipment in the hospital to do any good in trying to help her survive.
It would just do more damage than good.
Just make the poor thing suffer.
Mylei was in the hospital bed, curled up and the baby was in the bassinet with a breathing mask. The doctors said they didn't expect her to last more than an hour. They'd done the birth certifercate, but a name had yet to be put on. The ink still stained the baby's tiny feet.
By the Force, he just couldn't get over how tiny she was.
And yet....
Her little life was so bright. Small and flickering, sure, but so, so, so bright.
Anakin was a supernova to him, and this girl was like the end of one. The dying of a star.
“Obi?” He looked up from where he stood next to the bassinet, watching the newborn's chest barely rise and fall.
“Yes, Mylei?”
“Can... c-can you stay with her? I need to try calling Gens again. And I...” The 31-year old glanced at her dying child, eyes bloodshot and her aura in the Force filled with so much heartache. “I... I-I just can't watch another die. I-I've lost one before, then had another several years later. That little girl is almost three-years older than this sweetheart.” The woman's breath hitched as she hit the call-button for a nurse.
“I... I never thought I'd have to with another.... That I'd have to bury-....” Her eyes squeeze shut, unable to finish the words.
Obi-Wan's heart ached for her. It ached like it was being ripped out. It was a sensation he had only felt one other time.
“Of course I'll stay with her, Mylei. Do what you need, and I'll do whatever I can for you.” Her moved over to the woman, giving her hand a squeeze and wiped some of her tears from her cheeks.
Two nurses came in moments later. One helped the former resident of the Jedi Temple into a hoverchair and pushed her out of the room. The second nurse moved over to the child's basinet, reading the layouts for the biomonitor. Whatever was being read obviously wasn't a good sign. The mask was being removed. The doctor had inform he and his almost-like-a-sister not to long ago that they'd only remove the breathing-help for the girl once her oxygen intake deteriorated to a certain point.
The star flared weekly, still bright but fading as the child's life faded further and further from the ability to actively live.
Obi-Wan watched, silent as his heart managed to feel even more torn from each barely existent movement of that tiny chest he was watching, as if hypnotized. It was as if his instincts was telling him not to dare miss a moment of this child's short life.
“Am I allowed to hold her?”
The nurse was startled by the suddenness of his voice.
To be honest, Obi-Wan was startled by it as well.
He knew not the reason for it.
Just another thing for 'no known reason' to add to the ever-growing list over the past week or so of his life.
The two professionals of their own duties in life stared at one another, but finally the nurse recovered and offered a small, sorrowed smile. “You can if you want. The poor dear doesn't have much time left, so it wouldn't do any damage. Might make the last moments a little happy for her.” The matron moved a weathered hand to gently stroke at the pink-hatted head of the baby.
She helped him situate the little girl in his arms, and then left him once he asked.
He didn't know why he had asked.
Now it was just him and this poor little life that seemed destined to leave the galaxy far before her time.
He had her cradled in the crook of his arm, and every little soft, almost inaudible wheeze proceeded to crack his heart more and more. Slowly, he shifted the position to tuck the newborn's head beneath his chin. One hand cradled the back of her neck, and the other supported the rest.
“You poor, sweet little-light.” Obi-Wan whispered, not wanting to move his jaw too much or risk hurting the tiny one’s head. So, once more, he shifted the babe down to rest more against the pulse-point of his neck rather than directly beneath his jawline now. The finger's on the baby's back—a back barely the height of his entire hand—idly rubbed, he breathing in an even rhythm that starkly contrasted the tiny quivers of air.
The Force seemed to be whisping around them, tickling at his ears and all but trying to blanket the babe he held. In the sensation he held the girl more securly, fingers still rubbing. Until this point he had resisted the surprising-and-odd urge until then that had been growing, but with holding this tiny, fragile, fading life in his arms he could no longer hold off. He lowered his shields to slowly wrap his aura around the baby. He needed to give her comfort.
If everything else hadn't completely shattered his now own fragile heart, then this certainly had.
It was a faint flicker now, just like the girl's spark of life, but she was a little Force Sensitive.
“Oh, little one.” He whispered, throat thick as he squeeze his eyes shut tightly in pains that were now phantom-ing from Naboo.
After a few minutes, with the girl still barely clinging to that fragile life she had, Obi-Wan's eyes would open to stare out at the night skies of Danan. It was law that all public lights be on the lowest power.
The brightness of the stars, so many more visible here than on Coruscant, were far too pretty for such a moment in time.
“May these words be the first to find your ears,” The first words had left his lips before he realized what was happening. “The world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here.” He began to pace around the room, his voice and breaths remaining steady even as his throat thickened with emotion. “Though your eyes will need some time to adjust to the overwhelming light surrounding us...” He wrapped his Force-signature more securely around her tiny one, and following the urging of the Force in his ears (even if he knew it would hurt, to feel a life snap while wrapped around it) he began to feed some of his meager healing abilities into her. He had never been very good on minor injuries, let alone major ones. and this poor babe wasn't even injured. She just wasn't strong enough to live.
He continued on, singing a lullaby to the life this little girl might could have had. As a civilian, as a Jedi, or at least as a trained Force-sensitive at her planet's school.
Even as the biomonitor connected to the bracelet on an impossibly fragile ankle had the heartbeats start to pace further apart. Dangerously, agonizingly far apart for a newborn.
Beep-beep, beep-beep.... beep-beep, beep-beep....
“I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise I’ll do better.”
He sang for the Master she maybe could have had if she had been one of the rare force-senstive children from Danan who were actually sent off to the Temple, and also singing for the father that now wouldn't get to meet her while she still lived.
Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep-beep, beep-beep....
“I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go. I promise I’ll do better.”
He sang for his sister in all but blood, who had needed to leave the room where her youngest child was dying in. After her own body had sabotaged her own baby's life. She'd have to go on, though, for the other children she already had to raise and live for.
“I will soften every edge, I’ll hold the world to its best, and I’ll do better.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep...beep, beep-beep....
“With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath,”
He now sang of himself, in a promise he meant. One he meant so deeply it almost scared him.
Beep...beep, be...ep-beep.... Beep...beep, be...ep-beep.... Beep...beep...beep-be...ep....
He swirled more healing energy against that little spark of her, eyes squeezing shut again as the Force swirled in his entire being.
“And I’ll do better.”
Something prodded back at his Force signature. Unaware and instinctive, yet something tiny prodded back.
His eyes snapped open.
The Force started to sing with him as he swirled his energy more around that fragile little life of her's.
“'Сause you are loved, you are loved more than you know. I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so.” His fingers started rubbing a little more deliberately at the little back, the formerly limp infant twitching in his arms.
Beep...beep, beep-beep. ...Beep...beep, beep-beep.
“Though your heart is far too young to realize—”
Beep...beep, beep-beep. Beep...beep, beep-beep.
“—the unimaginable light you hold inside.”
The tiny chest against his own had begun to expand more. The baby girl twitched again, and as something as a more audible noise escaped the girl, even if it was just a louder wheeze, he felt his eyes tear in a burning, yet hopeful, bought of disbelief.
The Force filled him more, and he focused more of a healing aura on the little one he held almost more protectively than a Creche Master did the young of the Order. He continued to sing and it was as if the Force was now singing with him.
“I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise I’ll do better.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep-beep, beep-beep.
“I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go. I promise I’ll do better.”
The smallest of whimpers left in a muffle against his chest.
“I will rearrange the stars, pull ‘em down to where you are. I promise, I’ll do better.”
The tiny chest was expanding even more, and the twitching of the little body had started to turn into proper squirming as the biomonitor continued to beep more and more from a steadily increasing heartrate. A rapid, steadying increase that would be worrying in any other circumstance, but not in this one. It would never worrying in a moment like this.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Beep-beep, beep-bah-beep. Beep-beep, beep-bah-beep.
“With every heartbeat I have left, I'll defend your every breath.”
The tiny thing in his arms inhaled a wheezing, squeeking chain of breaths. The little light in the Force flared in the coocon he had made with his own aura.
“I promise I’ll do better–”
A wail escaped the now squirming little thing tucked in the security of his body, and a wet sob of a laugh escaped him. He managed to glance down slightly, catching sight of the pair of wide, tear-filled brown eyes that flickered in every direction. They finally took in the world around the owner who had been in the world nearly an hour after being able to take anything in at all.
Then the fragileness of this situation came crashing down and promptly kicked his logical half back into full-geer.
He moved in a quick carefulness towards the door of the hospital room and nudged it open with his shoulder. The insistent wails that the newborn shouldn't have even been able to cry now ringing down the medical hallway.
“Nurse!”
Mylei had wanted to be a Jedi Healer, once upon a time. When she had told a little boy this so long ago, the little ball of fiery hair had suggested the last-name 'Metic' sing it sounding like part of the word 'medical.' She had unfortunately never been good at using the Healing Force, no matter how much she exercised the ability.
In the end, her stubbornness for wanting to enter that career path and lack of skill in it had been one of th reasons she hadn't been chosen as a padawan.
She had accepted it. It had given her a husband, a family that wouldn't have otherwise existed without her.
The Force had given her the gift of six beautiful children.
It had taken one from her before, a mere month after his birth.
This one though.... It hadn't taken her youngest.
“Now, what names are there to give you?” The woman murmured, her hand softly curling at the baby's in the incubator.
The girl was miracle; clearly blessed by the Force in numerous definitions.
Since her baby’s father had arrived two weeks prior the man hadn't stopped babbling at the girl whenever he was around her. The only time her husband, Gens, stopped was when he was away from the baby. And even then he still gushed about her! The only reason he wasn't fawning over their little miracle child was because he had offered to drive Obi-Wan back to the spaceport so he could return to Coruscant.
She smiled fondly and with gratitude welling her heart. The Force had meant for her almost-brother to be here, it was clear.
The brunette had felt, even years ago, that fate had brought she and that little boy she had mentored together for reasons beyond their sharing of the Unifying Force.
“How about.... Sadie? You're definitely your father's little princess, after all.”
The baby seemed tohave perfect timing, for the girl frowned in her sleep.
“Ah, you're right. That is far, far too formal. Especially with the bloodline you got pumping in your veins—if your siblings are anything to go by, you definitely won't ever be very princess-like.”
The baby's face relaxed in the special bed, and with a smile Mylei would reach out with her Force signature to gently pet at her daughter's own tiny one.
She felt a little ashamed she hadn't noticed her unborn child's sensitivity.
“Okay, next option; should I name you Evangeline? You could be called 'Evie' for short, little one. You were definitely brought back to me on a message of good news.”
The baby frowned in her sleep again, though this time it was more pronounced and the child's body tensed up.
“How about Naomi? That would fortell you to be beautiful and gentle in life.”
The tiny, wet and bubbling sound that signaled a fowl diaper hit her ears. The baby relaxed in her slumber once more, and the mother laughed before calling for a nurse to change the fragile little girl.
A few hours later, a thankful man returned to his wife at the hospital in the capital city of Danan. When he got to the NICF, he was greated with the sight of the woman he loved holding the youngest of their children skin-to-skin.
He walked over, placed a kiss to his wife's head, and looked lovingly down at their child.
“I want to send her to the Temple in perhaps a year. When she's older and healthy enough to go.” Mylei said softly, and her husband hummed beside her head.
“I figured, and though I'm loath to let her go... That Force-stuff you always talk about obviously has some sort of plans for her, yeah? She can't fill those plans on Danan even if it’s around us every day”
The woman smiled in a bitter-sweet way at the man, both of their eyes soon returning to the sleeping babe. Silence fell over them momentarily until the man spoke again, “Obi-Wan sent a final set of warm goodbyes for us and the family. He promised he'd mail in a few weeks, and told us to look after our little treasure.”
Little treasure.
Before her almots-brother had left the hospital she had heard him whisper a soft, 'Goodbye, little-light' to her daughter before some nurses had placed the baby back into the incubator.
Her eyes went wide as she saw something that was not yet existent.
“Gens. Gens, I know what to name her for her first and middle. Go get the nurse in charge of her birth certifercate.”
That startled the man from mooning over the babe. “You do?” To declare even a first name less than a month after any child's birth was rare, let alone knowing both the first and middle one!
When the one he loved did nothing but nod firmly, he nodded in return. He pressed a signle kiss to the head of each of his girls before leaving to do what was asked of him.
Mylei smiled after him, her gaze once more shifting to the baby she held.
On the back of her eyelids, a picture danced of a short, plump, healthy girl with dimpled cheeks, long brown hair, and the most beautiful set of chocolate eyes. A girl who stood next to a man with red hair covering his head and lower face. There were smiles that decorated them both.
It had been many years since Mylei had received an actual vision.
It seemed fitting that one came in this moment.
“Hello, little Elora Edie.” The former Jedi Initiate whispered to the newborn, receiving a small, instinctive little coo in response to the noise from the sleeping baby.
“He will soften every edge, hold the world to its best. I promise he’ll do better.”
He had already done better than her. He had saved her daughter's life.
“With every heartbeat he has left, he’ll defend your every breath.”
The Force sang in gentle in her ears with rightness as she closed her eyes, returning to the lingering vision of Obi-Wan Kenobi, years down the line, and what could only be the older version of the child she currently held.
A child who was the sweetest little treasure-piece of light in the world.
Smiling, the woman pressed a kiss to the brow of a child that, somehow, must have never been intended to truly be her’s and her husband's in the first place.
