may the fourth be with you! here's a little snippet of something i may be working on. because i don't have enough wips already.
737 words (cw: child in pain)
Obi-Wan Kenobi was fourteen when he awoke to a buzzing sensation along his right forearm, the feeling of thousands of little pricks against his skin all at once. Scrambling from underneath the covers of his bed, he keened at the burning, pushing up the oversized sleeve of his sleeping tunic. Light from the city beyond created beams through the transparisteel as his hand brushed the point of pain, trying desperately to wipe away whatever was burning him and only making it worse. A sob escaped him, his eyes clenching shut, and he cradled his pain-filled arm to his chest, rolling onto his side and into a ball as he tried to release the pain into the Force.
Tears had leaked from his closed eyelids as he heard the metallic sound of his bedroom doors opening and the rushed footsteps as a deep voice called his name, "Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan!"
Obi-Wan felt the brush of a hand through his hair, petting him—Master, his overtaxed mind reminded him—and he let out a whimper at the feeling of comfort mixing with the pain.
"Obi-Wan," his Master soothed. "What's wrong, my Padawan? Your pain through the bond was immense."
"My arm... Master, my arm," he choked out, pressing the appendage closer and curling further around it. Some of him felt embarrassed at being caught behaving like a youngling, spilling tears over the pain his Master could see.
"Obi-Wan, you need to let me see," said his Master, and a hand tugged gently at it, trying to get him to unfurl himself. "Obi-Wan, I need to see what ails you."
Slowly, Obi-Wan stretched out his arm, the pain still ebbing in waves from the point of origin and traveling throughout his body. Encouraging words were whispered, a hand stroking his back as the other took his arm. Opening his eyes, he first noticed that there was light, not overly blinding but enough to see the blurry shapes of his bedroom items between his tears. The second was that Master Qui-Gon was kneeling next to him on the floor, his eyes fixated on the arm he held gently in his fingers.
"Master, what is it?" He sniffled, tears drying on his cheeks as the pain slowed and turned into an ache.
His Master's eyes cut away from his arm and to his face before moving back to his arm. "It appears you have a soulmark, my Padawan," he said softly, but his eyes looked in pain.
Obi-Wan reared back, scrambling to push himself upright on his unrestrained arm while trying to pull his other from Master Qui-Gon's grasp, who held onto it.
"I—I—no, I don't—I couldn't possibly have a soulmark," he stuttered, and he knew his eyes must be as big as a porgs. Having a soulmark was rare enough, but even those that had them, they didn't... "Master, it hurt. Soulmarks don't hurt."
His Master sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed melancholy. "There have been occasions," but his Master trailed off, his brow furrowing as he stared at the words.
"What does it say?" Obi-Wan needed to know; he needed to know what dreaded words had been put upon his skin that had caused his unflappable Master to show such sadness. He pulled at his arm again; this time, Master Qui-Gon released it. Obi-Wan curled his arm into himself, the pain having dulled enough that he was no longer in agony. He looked down at it, turning it into the light so he could see.
The skin around the words was red as if itched raw or burned, and the lettering was a deep thick black that seemed almost out of place. It wasn't neatly written; it looked like someone had screamed these words with jagged edges at the creation of each letter. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, his own sadness creeping in as he felt echoes of an emotion that wasn't his. Hate. The mark seemed full of it, but there was something underneath, something else that lingered there that he couldn't distinguish. His eyes stared at the words, heartbreaking because they were something his soulmate would say to him in the future, a group of words that would be the defining moment in their relationship. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Breathing going ragged, he reread the angrily written words across his skin,
I HATE YOU
and he wished to the Force that he would never meet his soulmate.
