If you had asked Padmé one year ago how she'd imaged her life in a year this...wouldn't have been it. Sure, her babies were here, and she was happy for that, they were here and healthy and strong. And happy, she thought, as much as you could tell with newborns anyway. But on the run, falsely claimed to be dead, most likely to never see her mother, father, sister, or any of her family again. Must less her husband.
On the run, with her husband's best friend. It fit, in a way, the two people who loved him most, hiding out together, to raise his children together. And as she looked over the small bassinet were they slept, it was hard to not feel peace. Even if it was inside an old, almost forgotten bunker from the Clone Wars. Satisfied her children were safely asleep, Padmé left the room quietly, looking for Obi-Wan.
This certainly wasn't the life Obi-Wan had expected for himself, either, although after the war, it wasn't as much a shock as he might have expected otherwise. Hiding rankled somewhat, but he knew it was their best - really their only - option at surviving. And survival was their first priority.
He wishes... well. If wishes were fishes, the Mon Calamari would rule the galaxy, as the saying went, but still. He wishes Anakin hadn't made so many of the decisions he had. He wishes he had made different decisions. One cannot go back to correct the past, however; merely move forward and do the best they can for the future.
The future, in this case, being two tiny children, dependent on him and Padmé to protect and care for them.
At the moment, that means trying to cobble together a sort of early-warning system to alert them of danger while they stay here. As much as Obi-Wan can rely on the Force to detect anyone approaching, he's aware that it isn't foolproof; he's also aware that with two infants strong in the Force, he's going to be getting minimal sleep, and using a considerable amount of energy hiding them. Best to have a back-up detection system in place, in case he's too tired and winds up missing something.
When Padmé finds him, he's hunched over a myriad of random parts, from cannibalized droids to power cells that may or may not blow up if he tries to use them, and wires trailing from everything. Muttering darkly and swearing more than a Jedi Master probably should, even if it's only to himself under his breath.
Coming upon Obi-Wan hunched over and muttering over a pile of parts and
wires, Padmé has to press her balled up hand to her mouth, hard to
stay silent,but she cannot deny the pain her heart feels, the sniffle she
tries to keep quiet, or tears that suddenly well up. It reminds her so
achingly of Anakin, and the pain is just too fresh. She doubted that would
pass soon, especially with Luke's eyes having the same shade of blue as his
father's. She also couldn't, wouldn't, assume Obi-Wan wasn't aware of her
upset, even if he may not know why.
"Do you need a break?" It's gentle and quiet, an offer but also something
more - newborns are demanding, taking up much of Padmé's time, though to
say she was anything but overjoyed to snuggle one or both of her babies to
her breast would be a more brazen lie than Palpatine was trying to sell
with the 'New Senate', but she would be glad for some time with an adult.
It's a fine line he tries to tread, paying attention to everything happening around him, but pretending that he can't feel Padmé's feelings - and really, that's as much for himself as her, because he has no idea how to comfort her, isn't even sure if he has the right, when he already feels so responsible for the situation they've found themselves in.
Because of his conflicting feelings, he's been focusing on the practical, and he worries he's been isolating her more than is necessary. She needs contact, emotional warmth now, especially after Anakin...
It's a miracle she's alive, and speaks solely to her strength of will, something he's always admired in her.
Tossing down the spanner before he starts bashing the equipment with it, Obi-Wan stands up and gives her a grateful smile. "Dear Force, yes. Please, distract me from this rusted hunk of shite before I chuck it all out the window." He plays up his frustration (though he doesn't have to play it up much, sadly), hoping to make her laugh, or at least smile.
Obi-Wan does succeed in making her smile, even if there's something to her eyes - and a lot to her emotional state - that say it's a sad, bittersweet smile. Some part of her refuses to yield to the idea that Anakin wouldn't be showing up soon to help him, because she knew it was something they would do. Even as the reality of their lives pressed into her mind.
Padmé reaches over a hand, inviting him to take it and come with her. "Luke and Leia are sleeping, should be for a couple hours. I should probably join them but." She's lonely and hurting, in a lot of ways.
There's only the briefest pause, wherein Obi-Wan softens, droops just a little, before taking Padmé's hand, giving her a smile that reflects how he feels more fully; sad, bittersweet, but thankful for her presence.
"They'll be all right." He means it won't hurt to let them sleep unaccompanied for a little while, but realizes after he's said it that he's also reassuring her about the future. He doesn't know it for certain, and shies away from any visions he has, but he believes that between the two of them, they can protect the children. At least until they're old enouh to protect themselves.
She squeezes his hand, grateful. "I'm sure they will be. I just. I don't know if I'm ready for them to be away from me." There's a small, sad smile to the words. "It's funny, I wanted a family so much..." And she still did, but oh the cost has been high.
In resigning ("postponing," Ackbar had insisted) his commission, Luke had been looking for two things: Jedi artifacts, and some perspective on what to do next.
Things he had not been looking for: time travel, yet another return to Tatooine, and a romance with a dead mentor.
Then again, they did tick off the first two items, in a way.
His X-wing (generously donated to the cause of Jedi rehabilitation) had gone off course while in hyperspace, a freak anomaly he could hardly attempt to explain while trying to right his course so that he and R2 didn't end up on the wrong end of a black hole. But after a significant effort and a really uncomfortable feeling of being pulled in every direction at once, Luke had crash-landed in a desert.
A soul-crushingly familiar desert.
The ship was, for the moment, inoperable, his leg was, while not broken, liable to become so if he moved too far on it, and R2's circuits had somehow reversed polarity to the point of some droid equivalent of catatonia. And then he'd realized where he was, and it all sort of figured, even if it didn't yet make any sense.
He was on kriffing Tatooine, stranded in the Jundland Wastes, years and light years from anywhere and anywhen he was meant to be.
[IDK how much you want to play or handwave, but I thought this would cover our bases?]
After a year of living in self-imposed isolation and exile, the man now known as Ben Kenobi has gotten used to this new life; he is a hermit now, shunning human contact if he can avoid it, discouraging others from caring about him. Guilt and recrimination have been his sole companions, for the most part, along with that fickle visitor, hope, that likes to tease him with possibilities of the future, too nebulous even for his penchant for seeing the unifying Force.
That is, until he came across a crashed starfighter in the middle of the desert. It resembled something he was familiar with during the Clone Wars, but updated, and made him wary. No starfighter should be this far in the Outer Rim territories.
Ben wanted nothing to do with this, any of it, but the pilot was injured, his droid damaged, and Ben's natural altruistic tendencies came forward. He had not been a Jedi for almost 2 years now, but if need be, he could handle himself against one rogue, injured pilot.
"Hello, there," he called out, moving slowly toward the ship and it's lone human member. "Let me help you. You don't want to get caught in the desert in the middle of the day."
[Apparently I want to play most of it out, because this is what my brain could come up with. I was honestly planning on handwaving some of it...]
[No worries! I'm down, it helps set us up in terms of how they work together.]
Luke's head shot up from where he'd been trying to splint up his own leg, cursing himself for not noticing the approaching human. At least, he thought to himself, it wasn't a Tuskan Raider. But what was anyone doing out this far? Only the very brave, very foolish, or both would venture it.
The memory of Ben hurt less, now, and the connection was not lost on him. Thus, he did not immediately recognize the man. Why should he? A resemblance to his first meeting with Kenobi was nostalgia and coincidence, and so the fact the man could be a relative must be, as well.
"Thanks," he called out, sensing no danger from the robed figure. He gestured to his leg, as he remained propped up against the hull of the ship as it lay partially buried in the dune. "I don't know if it's broken, but I know I won't get far once the sun goes down." He squinted up at the sky. "If I make it that long."
There'd been no reply to his distress calls, but partly it could have been the fried circuitry. He had rations, but they weren't meant for hardcore desert travel. A friendly gesture would not be rebuffed.
Ben slowly made his way forward, eyeing the 'fighter critically. Noticing the familiar astromech droid perched behind the cockpit, he stared at it for a moment, before deciding it was merely a similar R2 unit, and not the one he was used to. The last he knew, Bail Organa had taken on its service, and he didn't expect to see it again.
Turning his attention to the man and the leg in question, Ben hummed and shook his head. "Best to keep as much weight off it as possible, just in case." He twisted to point at a shallow valley, hidden within the deeper cliff face. "My home's not far, if you want some help hobbling over to it. It's not much, but there's plenty of fresh water, food, and shade from the suns."
Luke leaned to look where the man pointed, brow furrowing as a familiar rock formation presented itself. He glanced thirty degrees to the north, locating a patch of dunes he had expected. And frowned.
This was getting too weird. If he was where he thought he was, this man was living in roughly the place Ben Kenobi had, and the thought that someone had taken over that rude little hut filled him with the sort of righteous indignation reserved for temple desecration. But he bit it back, knowing that his situation was serious, his information incomplete, and this man had, so far, shown him nothing but a compassion he had not been obligated to.
"Thank you," he said, focusing on the man again. "I'm sorry to impose, but my ship's hyperdrive got scrambled somehow during my last jump. Even my R2 unit has some sort of ion storm damage." He thrust himself off the side of the ship after bending carefully to grab his survival pack. Glancing up at R2, he frowned. "How's Jawa activity, lately?"
Ben waved off the man's thanks. "It's quite alright. I've always felt it's one's duty to help out those in unfortunate circumstances, and stranded on this particular planet, with an injury? Certainly unfortunate." He paused, before shrugging. "Also, I'll admit to curiosity. What brought you to Tatooine in the first place, even if this wasn't your destination."
A secretive, mischievous smile crossed briefly over Ben's face. "As for the Jawa activity - recently, it's been quite low in this particular area. The Jawas seem to have been scared off by some massive creature, though I can't fathom what. Your ship and companion will be fine until we get you settled, and I can return to make them more secure."
It was all Jacen could see as he stared out into the horizon, and around him.
He couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here, wherever ‘here’ was. He’d fled Coruscant — no, Yuuzhan’tar — on a coralcraft with Vergere, towards space, towards freedom, his time with the Vong finally at an end. And it had been quite the ordeal. He was almost all bone and muscle now. His skin was a sickly pale shade; his arms were scarred, so were his legs, although they were mostly hidden by the dark robe he wore. His face was chiseled, making him look much older than eighteen, and his brown eyes no longer had a boyish charm, but rather the maturity of adulthood.
Somehow, along the way, they’d crash-landed — yet he couldn’t remember the events leading up to it. Nor could he sense Vergere’s presence in the Force. He could only feel the sun and the sand and the heat sapping what little strength he had left, and his vision blurring.
no no more apprentices he always screws them up :P
In the time Obi-Wan Kenobi had been living as Ben on Tatooine, he'd quickly fallen into his self-designated role as hermit of the Jundland Wastes. The local people didn't disturb him, and they respected his privacy and reticence when he had to venture into the settlements for any supplies. The Jawas thought his land was haunted, and the Sand People thought it was swarming with krayt dragons. At almost 4 decades, his sandy red hair had started to turn almost blond under the harsh light of the twin suns, and every now and then he thought he saw silver starting to peak out on his head and shot through his beard. But they're the least of the reasons why Obi-Wan didn't want to look at his reflection more than absolutely necessary.
After 2 years, Obi-Wan was used to the quiet of the desert. He's used to the stillness, being able to stretch his senses out for kilometers and hardly encountering anything larger than rodents and lizards.
He was in the middle of checking the vaporizers before retreating into his home for the day, when a very large object went hurtling past overhead, flaming from its fast descent through the atmosphere. Even as he was debating if he should go check, the sonic boom reached him, followed a minute later by another boom of sound, this one accompanied with the tremor of impact.
Blast it all. Obi-Wan could not leave this alone.
Grabbing the quarter staff he'd fashioned out of deadwood not long ago, Obi-Wan hurried the few miles to the obvious crash site, out in the middle of the Wastes. The object was half-buried in a sand dune, and very strangely, resembled a large section of coral reef, completely incongruous to Tatooine's desert environment.
And then he saw the survivor.
Obi-Wan didn't know what was going on, but he knew he couldn't just leave the young man out in the middle of the desert. With a vicious mental curse, he strode toward the stranger, cataloguing as he grew nearer the glassy look in his eyes and the paleness of his lips. If nothing else, he was going to get dehydrated very quickly out here.
He waited until he caught the boy's eye and was sure he had his attention. "We need to get you out of the sun. Can you walk?"
While the young Jedi had grown more resilient during his captivity on Yuuzhan'tar, it was a little too much to ask of his body to hold on after the last string of events — the battle at the Well of the World Brain, the escape, the journey through space, the crash. In fact, he was practically holding himself up through the Force; he didn't want to have to use it in this manner, but he was left with no other choice.
Despite his exhaustion, his instincts flared up as soon as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a creature making its way through the desert. Towards him. It was definitely a fight or flight moment, and it occurred to him that he would not survive another fight in his current state. He wasn't even sure if he still had his lightsaber, or if it had gotten buried in the sand or in the coralcraft somewhere. Or worse, destroyed.
So he reached out to the approaching creature through the Force, so lightly it was almost imperceptible — and he sensed that it was a man. Yet he couldn't quite make out the stranger's features under the harsh light of Tatooine's suns, nor could he pick up any strong feelings.
Spots beginning to dance in front of his eyes, he was relieved to hear Obi-Wan speak to him in Basic. "Yes, I can." He wobbled a little, but caught and righted himself. "Where to?"
Despite the somewhat dire circumstances, Obi-Wan can't help but place his hands on his hips and give the young man an exasperated look. He thinks it must be genetically coded into all male DNA to make them stubborn idiots when they're young.
"Yes, of course you can." He doesn't even try to hide his skepticism. "Here, come on." With that, Obi-Wan moves forward and takes the young man's arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and then wrapping his own arm around the boy's waist. "It's several miles, and you look like you're about to fall down and eat sand."
'Several miles' makes Jacen smile wryly at his rescuer. Who's he kidding? He can't do several miles, at least not by himself. Still, he does his best to not give Obi-Wan too much trouble, trying to match the older man's steps.
"Where are we?" he asks. He knows of several desert worlds, but his mind's focused on the more important things at the moment. Like survival.
In deference to his weakened state, Obi-Wan tries to keep the pace as slow and even as possible, but he doesn't wish to linger too long in the sun.
"Tatooine," he responds to the boy's question. "If you're a fugitive, the planet has a knack for drawing them here. It's in the Outer Rim, away from the R-- the Empire." It hasn't been long enough yet for him not to stumble over the name of their new government, but he hopes the boy won't notice, or understand the significance.
Being sent to various planets scattered throughout the system certainly wasn't anything new. It happened a lot and far too often for Anakin's liking. He wished the war would just end -- with their victory of course. So many lives were already lost and each new mission seemed to take him farther and farther away from her. He tried not to let his thoughts linger too long as he stared out the window of the republic's temporary base.
The land was desolate and cold. Mostly cold. Another thing Anakin did not like.
"I'm never agreeing to come to a planet like this ever again. Why is it always some place frozen? Are they trying to turn me into an icicle? For once, I'd just like to go some place warm for a change."
He spoke to no one in particular and paced in front of the window a little bit. That leads to another thing Anakin disliked: waiting.
He may not have been speaking to anyone in particular, but Obi-Wan answers anyway from the doorway behind opposite the window Anakin is pacing by.
"Any time we go to a warm planet, you complain as well. Too hot, too humid, or too much like Tatooine. I'm beginning to think you just like complaining for the sake of it."
Teasing his once-Padawan brother-in-arms accomplished, Obi-Wan moves further into the room, standing squarely in the path Anakin has been trying to wear into the floor. Either the young Jedi will have to stop, change his path significantly to go around him, or mow Obi-Wan down.
He almost hopes for the last option: Anakin isn't the only one who dislikes waiting, at least in circumstances such as these. Obi-Wan is just better at hiding it. But if Anakin makes an issue of his position, they could have a bit of a tussle, and both of them could relieve some tension.
"Oh come on, Master, I only complain when it's true."
Anakin doesn't look over, but continues his stare down with the window. So he doesn't notice Obi-Wan step into his path.
"Besides. The only upside is unlike Tatoonie there is no sand and you know how much I ha--"
And there it is. His thoughts were still in pieces, his mind elsewhere on someone else. His gaze snaps on the Master Jedi just he collides right into him.
Just as Obi-Wan realizes that Anakin hasn't seen him, and before he can do more than open his mouth in warning, the young man's swift pace has them bouncing off each other. Obi-Wan is barely able to catch himself from falling on his ass, and once he steadies and rights himself, he starts laughing.
They're both far too tense, honestly. While of course there is a war raging, it's not good to be so keyed-up all the time; a little humor injected into things to lighten up from time to time is good for them. Especially if it's at their own expense.
Anakin and Obi-Wan ending up into some sort of weird tumble was far from a strange occurrence. He, himself, almost completely fell over. Maybe they both needed to lighten up a bit.
"Master, how many times have I told you to stop standing in my way. Sometimes I think you just want me to run you over."
If anything Obi-Wan distracted him from complaining about the cold. It probably won't last long, but it's a start.
"And how many times have I told you to always pay attention to your surroundings?" The mock-stern, expectant look on his face is hard to maintain, as Obi-Wan wants to do nothing more than start laughing again. "Perhaps it is you who wishes to run me over, and you're merely using distraction as an excuse to get away with it."
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New life together thing
On the run, with her husband's best friend. It fit, in a way, the two people who loved him most, hiding out together, to raise his children together. And as she looked over the small bassinet were they slept, it was hard to not feel peace. Even if it was inside an old, almost forgotten bunker from the Clone Wars. Satisfied her children were safely asleep, Padmé left the room quietly, looking for Obi-Wan.
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He wishes... well. If wishes were fishes, the Mon Calamari would rule the galaxy, as the saying went, but still. He wishes Anakin hadn't made so many of the decisions he had. He wishes he had made different decisions. One cannot go back to correct the past, however; merely move forward and do the best they can for the future.
The future, in this case, being two tiny children, dependent on him and Padmé to protect and care for them.
At the moment, that means trying to cobble together a sort of early-warning system to alert them of danger while they stay here. As much as Obi-Wan can rely on the Force to detect anyone approaching, he's aware that it isn't foolproof; he's also aware that with two infants strong in the Force, he's going to be getting minimal sleep, and using a considerable amount of energy hiding them. Best to have a back-up detection system in place, in case he's too tired and winds up missing something.
When Padmé finds him, he's hunched over a myriad of random parts, from cannibalized droids to power cells that may or may not blow up if he tries to use them, and wires trailing from everything. Muttering darkly and swearing more than a Jedi Master probably should, even if it's only to himself under his breath.
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Coming upon Obi-Wan hunched over and muttering over a pile of parts and wires, Padmé has to press her balled up hand to her mouth, hard to stay silent,but she cannot deny the pain her heart feels, the sniffle she tries to keep quiet, or tears that suddenly well up. It reminds her so achingly of Anakin, and the pain is just too fresh. She doubted that would pass soon, especially with Luke's eyes having the same shade of blue as his father's. She also couldn't, wouldn't, assume Obi-Wan wasn't aware of her upset, even if he may not know why.
"Do you need a break?" It's gentle and quiet, an offer but also something more - newborns are demanding, taking up much of Padmé's time, though to say she was anything but overjoyed to snuggle one or both of her babies to her breast would be a more brazen lie than Palpatine was trying to sell with the 'New Senate', but she would be glad for some time with an adult.
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Because of his conflicting feelings, he's been focusing on the practical, and he worries he's been isolating her more than is necessary. She needs contact, emotional warmth now, especially after Anakin...
It's a miracle she's alive, and speaks solely to her strength of will, something he's always admired in her.
Tossing down the spanner before he starts bashing the equipment with it, Obi-Wan stands up and gives her a grateful smile. "Dear Force, yes. Please, distract me from this rusted hunk of shite before I chuck it all out the window." He plays up his frustration (though he doesn't have to play it up much, sadly), hoping to make her laugh, or at least smile.
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Padmé reaches over a hand, inviting him to take it and come with her. "Luke and Leia are sleeping, should be for a couple hours. I should probably join them but." She's lonely and hurting, in a lot of ways.
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"They'll be all right." He means it won't hurt to let them sleep unaccompanied for a little while, but realizes after he's said it that he's also reassuring her about the future. He doesn't know it for certain, and shies away from any visions he has, but he believes that between the two of them, they can protect the children. At least until they're old enouh to protect themselves.
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"I'm glad you're here."
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Hell in a handbasket
Things he had not been looking for: time travel, yet another return to Tatooine, and a romance with a dead mentor.
Then again, they did tick off the first two items, in a way.
His X-wing (generously donated to the cause of Jedi rehabilitation) had gone off course while in hyperspace, a freak anomaly he could hardly attempt to explain while trying to right his course so that he and R2 didn't end up on the wrong end of a black hole. But after a significant effort and a really uncomfortable feeling of being pulled in every direction at once, Luke had crash-landed in a desert.
A soul-crushingly familiar desert.
The ship was, for the moment, inoperable, his leg was, while not broken, liable to become so if he moved too far on it, and R2's circuits had somehow reversed polarity to the point of some droid equivalent of catatonia. And then he'd realized where he was, and it all sort of figured, even if it didn't yet make any sense.
He was on kriffing Tatooine, stranded in the Jundland Wastes, years and light years from anywhere and anywhen he was meant to be.
[IDK how much you want to play or handwave, but I thought this would cover our bases?]
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That is, until he came across a crashed starfighter in the middle of the desert. It resembled something he was familiar with during the Clone Wars, but updated, and made him wary. No starfighter should be this far in the Outer Rim territories.
Ben wanted nothing to do with this, any of it, but the pilot was injured, his droid damaged, and Ben's natural altruistic tendencies came forward. He had not been a Jedi for almost 2 years now, but if need be, he could handle himself against one rogue, injured pilot.
"Hello, there," he called out, moving slowly toward the ship and it's lone human member. "Let me help you. You don't want to get caught in the desert in the middle of the day."
[Apparently I want to play most of it out, because this is what my brain could come up with. I was honestly planning on handwaving some of it...]
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Luke's head shot up from where he'd been trying to splint up his own leg, cursing himself for not noticing the approaching human. At least, he thought to himself, it wasn't a Tuskan Raider. But what was anyone doing out this far? Only the very brave, very foolish, or both would venture it.
The memory of Ben hurt less, now, and the connection was not lost on him. Thus, he did not immediately recognize the man. Why should he? A resemblance to his first meeting with Kenobi was nostalgia and coincidence, and so the fact the man could be a relative must be, as well.
"Thanks," he called out, sensing no danger from the robed figure. He gestured to his leg, as he remained propped up against the hull of the ship as it lay partially buried in the dune. "I don't know if it's broken, but I know I won't get far once the sun goes down." He squinted up at the sky. "If I make it that long."
There'd been no reply to his distress calls, but partly it could have been the fried circuitry. He had rations, but they weren't meant for hardcore desert travel. A friendly gesture would not be rebuffed.
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Turning his attention to the man and the leg in question, Ben hummed and shook his head. "Best to keep as much weight off it as possible, just in case." He twisted to point at a shallow valley, hidden within the deeper cliff face. "My home's not far, if you want some help hobbling over to it. It's not much, but there's plenty of fresh water, food, and shade from the suns."
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This was getting too weird. If he was where he thought he was, this man was living in roughly the place Ben Kenobi had, and the thought that someone had taken over that rude little hut filled him with the sort of righteous indignation reserved for temple desecration. But he bit it back, knowing that his situation was serious, his information incomplete, and this man had, so far, shown him nothing but a compassion he had not been obligated to.
"Thank you," he said, focusing on the man again. "I'm sorry to impose, but my ship's hyperdrive got scrambled somehow during my last jump. Even my R2 unit has some sort of ion storm damage." He thrust himself off the side of the ship after bending carefully to grab his survival pack. Glancing up at R2, he frowned. "How's Jawa activity, lately?"
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A secretive, mischievous smile crossed briefly over Ben's face. "As for the Jawa activity - recently, it's been quite low in this particular area. The Jawas seem to have been scared off by some massive creature, though I can't fathom what. Your ship and companion will be fine until we get you settled, and I can return to make them more secure."
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are you ready for another apprentice master kenobi
It was all Jacen could see as he stared out into the horizon, and around him.
He couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here, wherever ‘here’ was. He’d fled Coruscant — no, Yuuzhan’tar — on a coralcraft with Vergere, towards space, towards freedom, his time with the Vong finally at an end. And it had been quite the ordeal. He was almost all bone and muscle now. His skin was a sickly pale shade; his arms were scarred, so were his legs, although they were mostly hidden by the dark robe he wore. His face was chiseled, making him look much older than eighteen, and his brown eyes no longer had a boyish charm, but rather the maturity of adulthood.
Somehow, along the way, they’d crash-landed — yet he couldn’t remember the events leading up to it. Nor could he sense Vergere’s presence in the Force. He could only feel the sun and the sand and the heat sapping what little strength he had left, and his vision blurring.
no no more apprentices he always screws them up :P
After 2 years, Obi-Wan was used to the quiet of the desert. He's used to the stillness, being able to stretch his senses out for kilometers and hardly encountering anything larger than rodents and lizards.
He was in the middle of checking the vaporizers before retreating into his home for the day, when a very large object went hurtling past overhead, flaming from its fast descent through the atmosphere. Even as he was debating if he should go check, the sonic boom reached him, followed a minute later by another boom of sound, this one accompanied with the tremor of impact.
Blast it all. Obi-Wan could not leave this alone.
Grabbing the quarter staff he'd fashioned out of deadwood not long ago, Obi-Wan hurried the few miles to the obvious crash site, out in the middle of the Wastes. The object was half-buried in a sand dune, and very strangely, resembled a large section of coral reef, completely incongruous to Tatooine's desert environment.
And then he saw the survivor.
Obi-Wan didn't know what was going on, but he knew he couldn't just leave the young man out in the middle of the desert. With a vicious mental curse, he strode toward the stranger, cataloguing as he grew nearer the glassy look in his eyes and the paleness of his lips. If nothing else, he was going to get dehydrated very quickly out here.
He waited until he caught the boy's eye and was sure he had his attention. "We need to get you out of the sun. Can you walk?"
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Despite his exhaustion, his instincts flared up as soon as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a creature making its way through the desert. Towards him. It was definitely a fight or flight moment, and it occurred to him that he would not survive another fight in his current state. He wasn't even sure if he still had his lightsaber, or if it had gotten buried in the sand or in the coralcraft somewhere. Or worse, destroyed.
So he reached out to the approaching creature through the Force, so lightly it was almost imperceptible — and he sensed that it was a man. Yet he couldn't quite make out the stranger's features under the harsh light of Tatooine's suns, nor could he pick up any strong feelings.
Spots beginning to dance in front of his eyes, he was relieved to hear Obi-Wan speak to him in Basic. "Yes, I can." He wobbled a little, but caught and righted himself. "Where to?"
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"Yes, of course you can." He doesn't even try to hide his skepticism. "Here, come on." With that, Obi-Wan moves forward and takes the young man's arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and then wrapping his own arm around the boy's waist. "It's several miles, and you look like you're about to fall down and eat sand."
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Or it's a Skywalker thing.'Several miles' makes Jacen smile wryly at his rescuer. Who's he kidding? He can't do several miles, at least not by himself. Still, he does his best to not give Obi-Wan too much trouble, trying to match the older man's steps.
"Where are we?" he asks. He knows of several desert worlds, but his mind's focused on the more important things at the moment. Like survival.
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"Tatooine," he responds to the boy's question. "If you're a fugitive, the planet has a knack for drawing them here. It's in the Outer Rim, away from the R-- the Empire." It hasn't been long enough yet for him not to stumble over the name of their new government, but he hopes the boy won't notice, or understand the significance.
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time for team awesome
The land was desolate and cold. Mostly cold. Another thing Anakin did not like.
"I'm never agreeing to come to a planet like this ever again. Why is it always some place frozen? Are they trying to turn me into an icicle? For once, I'd just like to go some place warm for a change."
He spoke to no one in particular and paced in front of the window a little bit. That leads to another thing Anakin disliked: waiting.
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"Any time we go to a warm planet, you complain as well. Too hot, too humid, or too much like Tatooine. I'm beginning to think you just like complaining for the sake of it."
Teasing his once-Padawan brother-in-arms accomplished, Obi-Wan moves further into the room, standing squarely in the path Anakin has been trying to wear into the floor. Either the young Jedi will have to stop, change his path significantly to go around him, or mow Obi-Wan down.
He almost hopes for the last option: Anakin isn't the only one who dislikes waiting, at least in circumstances such as these. Obi-Wan is just better at hiding it. But if Anakin makes an issue of his position, they could have a bit of a tussle, and both of them could relieve some tension.
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Anakin doesn't look over, but continues his stare down with the window. So he doesn't notice Obi-Wan step into his path.
"Besides. The only upside is unlike Tatoonie there is no sand and you know how much I ha--"
And there it is. His thoughts were still in pieces, his mind elsewhere on someone else. His gaze snaps on the Master Jedi just he collides right into him.
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They're both far too tense, honestly. While of course there is a war raging, it's not good to be so keyed-up all the time; a little humor injected into things to lighten up from time to time is good for them. Especially if it's at their own expense.
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"Master, how many times have I told you to stop standing in my way. Sometimes I think you just want me to run you over."
If anything Obi-Wan distracted him from complaining about the cold. It probably won't last long, but it's a start.
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