faderift | Open

WHO: Obi Kenobi and anyone who wants to hang out with him
WHAT: Obi-Wan Catch-all
WHEN: Mid-Justinian onwards (before the rifter discussions)
WHERE: Kirkwall, ect
NOTES: n/a

i. The Road Ahead
There was a puppy in Obi-Wan's travel-bag. It was actually fairly impressive, given the size and ambition of the mabari and the relative meagerness of the bag itself. It was more of a pack, really, the kind of thing meant to hold trail-food and the necessities to keep a body alive over the course of a few day's travel. Obi-Wan was not a man given to material wealth, otherwise expensive war-hounds aside.

"Cody," He warned, and glanced again towards the door— hanging ajar, open to the hall, now. Ah, that explained how he'd gotten in, again, "Now, we've spoken about this. You can't go in the pack."

The dog only whined and tilted its head, as if confused. Forty pounds and as spindly as a colt, there was no reasonable explanation of physics that could have united both dog and bag in the asked-for manner. But Cody persevered. Obi-Wan sighed to express his disapproval.

"Out."

Obi-Wan Kenobi, was having some difficulty.

ii: The "Ancient" Texts
Today was sunny in a way that, in Kirkwall, always seemed to be somehow qualified. Today, it could have been anything; perhaps it was only begrudgingly sunny in the bare hour before the afternoon rains, or too humid to be pleasant, or the smell of Darktown that's risen up through the streets in a cloud of foul-tasting steam. But, sitting in the Gallows courtyard, Obi-Wan couldn't smell Darktown, and didn't much care about humidity either way; he was writing. In his hands was a little book, and beside him another, both bound in plain, unremarkable leather. Both were handwritten, the one in his hands somewhat less so, and he seemed, despite his preoccupation, to be waiting for someone.

Or maybe he's just giving the sand-colored mabari puppy room to run; it's certainly doing its bouncing, cheerful best to encounter every single person with business in the Gallows to-day.

iii. Old Habits
Step, turn back, begin again. Second form, faster now; breathe, inhale, and lift—

Comforting basics, he'd run this form a thousand times and more. He'd mastered it. There were no fancy moves, nor clever flourishes in this calm ballet. The Lightsaber hilt was warm and comforting in his hand; familiar design, familiar grip, the hum a constant stream of nostalgia near his ear as Obi-Wan whirled it again into the third stance, then the fourth. It was never about hurting people, this way; they'd trained in a time of peace, with the hope of that peace in their ears. There were no targets, only patterns, circles in circles. Yes, a lightsaber was a deadly weapon, but it didn't have to be.

It didn't have to be— like this. None of this had to be like this.

Obi-Wan finds, abruptly, he's shifted off pattern. He stops, pushes the sweat back into his hair, and grumbles a sigh. Focus, Kenobi. How many times are you going to fail? Are you really this out of practice? Time for a break.

"I used to be able to get through this in one try, believe it or not," He says, by way of greeting, "Good evening."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Grateful for a break in the overcast sky -and knowing it wouldn't last- Inessa jumps on the opportunity to take Garahel for a walk. The mabari, restless, is eager to comply, and it's only because of their strong bond that he isn't practically dragging her outside. Well, just barely.

Heading into the courtyard, Inessa instantly brightens upon seeing a mabari pup come up to great them. Garahel, wagging his tail excitedly, begins to lick the (relatively) tiny one as his mistress stoops to let the pup sniff her before she offers to stroke his head. "Hello, there! My, but you're a sweet one. And so handsome, too."

She darts a smile over at Obi-Wan, always warmer with a fellow dog-person. "What's his name? Or are you still deciding?"

"Hello there," Obi-Wan replies, with a nod and a smile for her enthusiasm, "His name is Cody."

It was a good name, a name with square edges and a strong back. A nice, humble, workmanlike name, perfect for a trooper— or a mabari. Cody barks at the sound of his name, a scratchy, screeching sort of sound, entirely his size. One day he would be a broad-chested war hound that inspired fear in the hearts of men; but not just yet.

"I'd apologize for his interrupting your way, but..."

"Hello, Cody. It's wonderful to meet you." That bark promptly melts Inessa's heart, remembering when Garahel once had an identical bark. As Garahel nuzzles his new tiny friend, she smiles and shakes her head. "There's absolutely no need for that. I'm a Fereldan, after all, we know to treasure mabari. Might I give him something?"

She points to her satchel, trying not to say the word 'treat' because Cody will likely understand and decide for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan does not understand. And then, suddenly, he does and gives the go-ahead... though only after evaluating the relative worthiness of said pup. He is sitting at Inessa's feet, little stump-tail waggling, smiling a happy, doggish smile.

"As if you've done anything to earn it," But his tone is gentle, almost amused, despite the harsh words, "Go on, then."

"I apologize for the vagueness, but I didn't wish to presume. And as you must know by now, mabari are very quick on the uptake." Often speaking to Garahel in the same fashion, Inessa chuckles. Withdrawing a couple of mabari crunch treats, she raises an eyebrow "Let's see, do you know how to shake? Garahel, will you demonstrate?"

Garahel immediately stands at attention, and when prompted, lifts his paw. Rewarding him with a treat, she turns back to Cody. "Shake?"

Cody, for his part in the proceedings, regards her hand as if it were a foreign concept, tilting his head first one way and then the other, and then back again, farther each time. Eventually, he turns back to Obi-Wan with a soft, inquisitive aurr?

"Don't look at me, you got yourself into this."

Bereft, Cody returns his attention to Inessa's hand, then seems to find his inspiration and pounces on it, two-pawed. Twice as many paws means twice as many treats, right? Obviously.

Obi-Wan hides his smile behind his hand. Oh no.

Nope. As charmed as Inessa is by this, she knows better than to encourage this. If She gives into Cody now, he'll expect two treats forever onward. So she shakes her head and sets those paws down gently but firmly.

"No, just the one. Shake?" She holds it near just one paw, making her intent clear. Glancing over at Obi-Wan, she smirks. "Garahel tried that, too, when he was a pup. I almost gave in, but it would have set a terrible precedent."

"Careful," Obi-Wan advises, at her inattention, but it's already too late.

Cody has taken the chance and used his teeth where paws would not do; and her glove in his teeth, pulling it off and dashing away. He gambols a few tens of yards, captive glove flapping in the breeze then drops it in a clear taunt. Complete with scratchy yaps for effect.

What a daring pup! Inessa's eyes widen at such shenanigans, then she straightens and laughs. "I earned that, I suppose. They can only be so patient when young." Garahel, padding after his small friend, licks him before snatching up the glove.

"...this better not lead to a tug of war, those gloves were a gift."

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