Open

[hello_there]

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."

Comments

[hello_there]

"What matters more is what you choose to become, not where it started," Obi-Wan told her, and only then, reached out a hand, tentative, uncertain of his use, and placed it on her shoulder, bracingly.

"Rey. My point is this; you've felt the weight of that trial, and you know what it is, what it means. Ben will one day soon need to look into the mirror and accept what looks back at him."

[provenforce]

She knows what he's saying. She'd sensed it, after they'd fought for the lightsaber on the Supremacy. It's something she has no control over, she can only help him in helping himself.

"When we touched through the Force I saw a vision. I know... I know the visions aren't always set in stone futures, but I believe in him. I believe he'll recognize that there's still good in him." She'd done what she had promised him she'd do, back then. She's helped him find the light in him, she just needs him to recognize it.

[hello_there]

"I used to have a great deal of faith, in prophecies, and visions," Obi-Wan says, quietly, looking at the book in her hands as he does so, "But maybe..."

No. No, the consequences were too dire, to trust one's footing to those shifting sands. Not so soon.

"...We can always hope. But hope alone won't see it done. Is there any way I can help you, Rey?"

[provenforce]

She's learning to trust the Force, but it's a process. It's learning to trust in something that while part of her always believed, she's still not entirely sure how to know what it wants from her. Why her. It's something that came up more than once.

"Don't give up on Ben," Rey says after a moment, exhaling as she presses her hand over her heart, feeling the crystal pendant she now wears everywhere under her shirt. "I know he's... not easy to deal with, but you're a better teacher than Luke was. He might not know it, but he needs more than just me believing in him."

[hello_there]

"I'll do my best," the promise came easy, though it was all he could give. Obi-Wan lied quite often, but he broke precious few promises, once made, "Although I'm not sure what kind of compliment that is. I'm beginning to think Luke was never meant to be a teacher at all."

Aside from, of course, that there was no one else to do it, and precious else for a lone Jedi to busy himself with. Celebrity would erode at the patience of a light-side Jedi... but then, perhaps it would erode at other things too. Something to meditate on, for later.

"But what about you?"