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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."

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Kylo had been getting used to being away from the Gallows lately, since he and Rey had gotten a small home together in Lowtown, but he still enjoyed taking walks through the Gallows and taking in the old structures. The place was eerie and gloomy and he couldn't help but resonate with it. It had a deep history too. He also missed his old haunt - the training courtyard.

He wasn't surprised there were others who came there - there were many who had been when he was there training and he was quick to find a quiet spot for himself or with Rey. When he sees Obi-wan he stops, surprised that he's speaking to him. He hadn't exactly been nice to the seasoned Jedi the last they had spoken.

"Ah- I don't think you're doing badly?" He rubs the back of his neck, eyes dropping to his feet.

A larger white mabari joins Cody as he bounds around, as soon as she's given a silent nod from her human to unleash herself. Rey smiles for a moment, watching them, before moving over to Obi-Wan, familiarity in her step.

She isn't so bold as to lean in and see what he's writing, but she is curious as she sits down next to him, dropping her own pack by her feet.

"What are you working on?"

"You have nothing to compare it to," Obi-Wan points out, not-unfairly. He'd chosen to become a master of the traditional forms out of a desire to bolster his weaknesses, and a dream of innovation. But his dreams, as ever, are ultimately comprised of only so much dry sand, liable to collapse and vanish at the slightest contact with reality, "But, maybe I'm getting old, after all."

He regards Kylo with a half-smile, a little wry, a little sheepish. To someone with a face that young, however the hardship, he must surely have always seemed old.

"How have you been?"

As if he doesn't know, even.

"Ah, Rey. It's good you're here."

Obi-Wan smiles to see her, and nods his greeting. Then he promptly shuts the little notebook and tucks it away, with care for its security. He offers her the other, the one sitting aside, and finished, a dense little volume, bound in nondescript leather of poor quality, but sturdily made.

"See for yourself," He says, with an encouraging little flourish, and sits back to give her the time to do just that, "I think you might find some of it useful."

It's not quite a training holocron. But it's something; rough sketches of forms and intermediary movements, names and histories and great deeds, the Jedi Code, and all he can remember of their teachings. Including the ones that were lies, helpfully labeled as such. Some of them even come with explanations as to why they were to be lied about-- there was some educational value, to deception.

"When I vanished, you and Padawan were left... alone. I can't guarantee I'll always be here for you, any more than you can the reverse. But, that doesn't mean...Well. You can see."

"That's true, I don't. I've never needed traditional forms before." He had learned the basics from Luke but somehow he had adapted his own style. His enemies spent more time fearing him than trying to fight him, until Rey.

"Do you want me to agree that you're old?" He gives a half-smile of his own, amused that a man in his prime was calling himself 'old'. At Obi-Wan's next question he actually looks caught off guard for a moment. He hadn't expected Obi-Wan to ever want to know anything more than he did about him, not after their first impressions of one another. He hadn't exactly gone out of his way to change that perception either.

"I've been fine." Why?, he wants to ask. Instead, he elaborates, "Rey and I are settling into the new place, I think." He doubts it escaped the seasoned Jedi's notice that they were very much joined at the hip.

As is her tendency these days, Myira is wandering around the gallows trying to figure out where she's supposed to fit into things. Normally she wears a thick cloak fo black feathers, but the heat has convinced her to leave it in her room unless she needs it and today she dresses only in light linen summer clothing to fight off the heat and humidity. When she spots Obi-Wan and his puppy, she wanders a little closer, taking careful measured steps towards the creature (a dog, she remembers that the humans in the village had some, a lot like wolves) as it takes a moment to rest, tongue hanging out of its mouth in a tired pant. Closer... closer...

In a sudden movement she reaches out to tweak the poor dog's tail and leaps away with a burst of laughter as Cody whirled towards in surprise. She bends, hands on her knees, and immediately begins running around Obi-Wan in circles as she plays some sort of game of tag with his dog.

"Yes. I've been wondering when you were going to invite me to visit."

He was not, as it happens, wondering any such thing. What Obi-Wan wonders is if, at a time like this, Ben would be pleased or otherwise to know just how like his grandfather he really is. A homewarming invitation is hardly worth mentioning, by comparison.

"Although I'm beginning to suspect I'm not wanted," Obi-Wan is joking, but he knows he has no place in what tends to form between two passionate young people, sharing a house: a family. Obi-Wan is too much himself to really forget it. Not again, at least, "Or maybe you were only trying to be subtle?"

Eyebrows creased in focus Rey accepts the book offered to her, flipping through the pages. Her brow relaxes as she realizes what it is, eyebrows arching in wonder instead. She looks up at him with a small smile on her face, nodding her head.

"This is wonderful. I-I tried to do what I could with what you've taught me, but..." It had been difficult. She hadn't known what to do, and there's still so much she doesn't know about the Jedi and her own power. Even with her connection to Ben making learning a lot of it easier, she's no closer to being a Jedi than she was two years ago.

"Ah- well, if you want to see it I'm sure Rey would be happy to show you." He knows Obi-Wan isn't too bothered about it but he still feels somewhat unsure of himself with the man. He didn't know how to act around him after he'd probably already ruined it every other time they'd spoken. He didn't care for his sake, but Rey's.

"I didn't think the two of us living together would be something that escaped you whether we were subtle or not." Though he feels his face flush a bit at other possible implications of what Obi-wan has said. Surely he's reading to into it. "I wasn't sure how much Rey tells you."

She would have told him they moved in together, surely? She didn't hide her feelings for him and skulk about it the way he did. In fact, he never told anyone outright about it because there really wasn't anyone for him to tell. Rey had her girlfriends, like Nari, and he had...? No one.

Obi-Wan looks up from his work only when Cody's innocent game of bark-and-run turns into something more focused— and more targeted at him, specifically. Or rather, at running in circles around the column he's sat himself up against. The... person?

Yes, the person.

The person who's down on all fours chasing 'round with him is another thing entirely, and he's not.... entirely sure.... what to make of that. But then, it takes all kinds of beings to make a galaxy, surely.

"...Hello?"

For a moment, he just smiles as well as he can, puts a hand on her shoulder and struggles for breath, for control. When Obi-Wan has mastered himself, he takes a deep, steadying breath, and speaks.

"The old Order, my Jedi Order, is gone. What a Jedi is, what we are going to be... it can never be was it was. What I've written down for you here is, it's just a starting direction. A light in the dark, for when you're uncertain where to go, and need to know where we've been," His smile ticks down a little, remembered sadness, lost joy, "My master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was a Grey Jedi, like you. And, like you, most of these rules never seemed to apply to him. I wish I could have been a better teacher for you, but never doubt that you are becoming a very fine young Jedi."

Her smile fades as she watches him and listens to him speak, her brows knitting together again, not in focus but concern. He may be her teacher, but he's also someone she cares for a great deal, and it's never easy to see someone you care for remembering things they'd rather not. She reaches up silently to press her hand over his on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Him saying that she's becoming a fine young Jedi means more to her than she can possibly say, and she smiles despite the crease in her brow, before her expression grows serious again.

"What's a Grey Jedi? I didn't realize there was more than one type of Jedi. It always seemed like... there were rules that are to be followed if you want to be a Jedi. Rules I've... definitely broken."

"Well, sit down, this might take some explaining," Pull up some floor, Rey, there's plenty of courtyard to go around, "You already know, loosely speaking, that the Force has two sides. The Light and the Dark."

He holds a hand to indicate the two sides, swaying first one way, towards the sunlit inner courtyard, and then back again, into the shadows under the side-passages, where the roofs closed in to guard the dormitory entryways from the sun.

"Most people, most Jedi fall into mainly either one camp or another. The Light representing stability, serenity, new life, and the Dark... chaos, imbalance, passion. Neither is more or less of the Force, but always the Jedi have always strived to bring our students into the Light: three Sith is enough to destabilize the Galaxy, and bring about terrible suffering. The Light is... better, for everyone."

He drops his hand, then, as if to refute the point, or declare it all moot. Obi-Wan's glance is significant.

"But— not for every individual. There have always been Jedi, very rare, who ignore the council, and who walk the line between Light and Dark. They're guided not by what is most balanced, or what is best for the world overall, or even what they've been asked to do; it's about what's right for the situation. They can't be called Sith, because they don't fall to the temptations of the Dark Side, but neither do they adhere only to the Light. To be Grey is... the middle road, the path less traveled."

"You—" Obi-Wan can't decide if he'd rather laugh or sigh, "She didn't have to tell me anything. Honestly, you're as bad as Anakin."

The invective comes out automatically, and only after he's said it does Obi-Wan realize— and choke. Every time. Every time he remembers, and it's fresh and bright again, like a wet, red mouth that eats all the joy out of the moment. Oh, Anakin, as far gone as if he really had been killed, along with everyone else. And who did Obi-Wan have left?

"Of course I knew," He says it quietly, gentle, trying with all his uncertain calm to seem as unconcerned as he could, "No matter. You're entitled to your privacy, naturally."

Rey listens to Obi-Wan speak, a look of dawning slowly crossing her features as he does. She thinks of the temple on Ahch-To, how that place had been so full of light, but there had also been the darkness there. Luke had explained that as where there was powerful light, there was also powerful dark to balance it. She had seen the mosaic of the First Jedi, though. It had been light and dark, a single person, balanced.

She exhales slowly, hearing not only herself described in what he explains, but so much else seems clear to her. She could be a Jedi. She smiles, slow at first, before letting out a laugh and smiling more, her eyes stinging a little at the tears welling there, expressing the depth of the emotion she's feeling.

"The First Jedi was a Grey Jedi. In the temple on Ahch-To, there's a mosaic of a single person, and it's done half in dark stones, half in light. But it isn't all uniform, one side dark, one side light. It's mixed. Here I- I drew it, I wanted to show Ben, I thought it might help him--" she leans over, rifling around in her pack before pulling out her own leather journal, flipping through several pages of sketches before coming to where she'd drawn out the mosaic.

"I haven't had a chance to show it to him, yet."

At first, Obi-Wan simply smiles, delighted right along with her to have found a way forward, and to have pleased her. It's all he's wanted, after all, for her sake: to know the Force, and to share in that ultimate joy.

But she, as always, surprises him. She goes farther, and when he's still blinking over the idea of anyone knowing concrete details about the first Jedi, she's showing him her rendition of the mosaic and...

The smile fades as realization rises in him. A Jedi will come, to end the Sith, and bring balance to the Force.

To bring balance.

Obi-Wan feels very suddenly, like a man who's been walking a narrow path above an incredible drop, and had never realized it. his hands tremble as he takes the sketch from her, to examine her work more closely. But really, he barely sees it. He's thinking about Kylo, and the derision in his voice when he'd spoken about the Sith.

"...I... Think he'll find it very enlightening."

The prophecy had never been about Anakin.

He blinks for a moment, confused and stuck on what to say about the sudden comparison to himself and his grandfather. It's hard to imagine him as just a young man and not the imposing dark figure of history and his imagination.

"You're practically her family, so it wouldn't be invading privacy to tell you." Her family, when the man had taught his grandfather and had been well loved by his uncle. He bore his name as his own, from birth, in remembrance of that bond.

"It's not as if I had anyone to tell about it." That was the sad truth, really. In times like these he realizes that he's been here for months and is still just as isolated and closed off as he's ever been. It suited him fine, he thought, but sometimes he was envious of Rey having so many people who cared for her. It made him feel cut off from her, in a small way.

Rey notices the shift in Obi-Wan's demeanor, his trembling hands. The excitement of a moment before is extinguished like a flame and she's worried again, as conversation had turned to Ben. She's worried Obi-Wan has realized something about him that she hasn't, and this revelation of the first Jedi was what helped him realize it.

"I just have to think of a good time to bring it up. We've been avoiding the subject of... Kylo," she hesitates, before adding. "Are you alright? You look shaken, suddenly."

"I'm fine," He tells her, and then, just for a moment, wonders at the automatic surety of the lie. Shouldn't he tell her, what he suspects?

But then he remembers the sulfur smoke of mustafar, and a voice he could even then only barely recognize as his own. You were the chosen one! Being Chosen had been a terrible burden to Anakin. And in the end... No. Not to Rey. Let him at least say he learned something, from all this.

Obi-Wan took a breath, and let his distress show, giving over to the truth in a way that would support the falsehood, rather than weigh it down.

"Old memories. They always seem to catch me out, at the oddest times," Which was, after all, nothing less than the truth. Obi-Wan shook his head and gave her something true: a smile he felt, rather than simply put on, "Don't worry about me, I'll be alright. You were saying something about Kylo?"

"Just because someone is family, or nearly so, it doesn't mean you understand them," Obi-Wan replies, evenly, with a calm he's only barely managing to keep hold of, "People need their own space. I'm sure, the two of you would have come to me on your own, in time."

Or, of course, not. As the case may be. Since, even with Obi-Wan sitting right here, Ben will say he has no one to talk to. It's too much for manners and so Obi-Wan resorts to his native tongue: the ancient language of sarcasm.

"Yes, if only you had someone to talk to. It's only such a shame that there's no one at all willing to sit here and carry on a conversation. What a pity."

"It's not as if all our other conversations ever ended amicably." He snaps almost immediately, feeling defensive. Yes, that was his his fault, but he felt frustrated that Obi-wan felt the need to be sarcastic about it. "What would we talk about?"

Obviously, how very like his grandfather he is on occasion. He crosses his arms, mouth pressed in a thin line. He had to remind himself that this was Rey's teacher, that he needed to be calmer than this, and yet he felt like he was being patronized for the fact that he was utterly hopless at socializing with anyone who hadn't previously tried to kill him, apparently. Clearly Rey was a glitch in his perfectly reasonable assumption that no one had any desire to talk to him whatsoever.

"Mhh yes," He says, and the words I wonder who's fault that is linger under his tone like a fish peering up through the murky surface of a pond. One might deny they're there, but only if you can avoid eye contact with it, "Last time we spoke..."

Well. No. Obi-Wan stops, and has to amend that:

"...In person, you still had some unanswered questions, I'm sure."

Myira blinks as Obi-Wan speaks to her and rocks back into a casual squat only to bowled over as Cody barrels into her, not realizing the game has gone on pause. She lets out a squeal of laughter as she falls over and Cody licks her face.

"Ack--no--!" She cackles and finally manages to sit up, still half tangled with the dog.

"Hi!"

He relents some of that frustration at the mention of his grandfather. He and Obi-Wan had only barely touched the surface when it came to talking about him and no one he knew in his family ever said much about him to begin with. Luke had tried his best with him, but in the end it had culminated into the Jedi trying to kill his young nephew in his sleep.

"I do." He breathes out, interest piqued, and uncrosses his arms. "My mother never spoke of him to me." He realizes now that perhaps she had just been afraid and would have kept it from him forever if she could. It vexed him to no end that she couldn't trust him with the truth even as he'd become an adult.

"Please. Could you tell me about him?" He takes a step towards Obi-wan, humbled by the fact that he was dredging up what were probably painful memories for the Jedi. Just as he had a hard time talking about Luke or his family, Obi-wan struggled to speak of the brother he had lost to the dark side.

Edited 2018-07-03 22:12 (UTC)

She knows he's lying when he automatically tells her he's fine, but when he amends it, mentions his memories, she understands. She has her own memories that she struggles with, and hers weren't so bad as his. She's just trying to turn a lost soul back to the light, rather than he, who witnessed the most feared man in history's descent.

Smiling a little sheepishly as he brings them back to the subject she'd brought up only a moment before, she absently pushes her hair behind her ears.

"We don't talk about it much. We did when he first arrived, arguing about the light inside him, but it's just gotten easier to talk about everything else. He's turning, I can feel it, and I know he can too. But we've avoided the conversation."

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