faderift | Coping Methods

Entry tags:

Coping Methods | Open

WHO: Obi-Wan Kenobi and whomever shall encounter him
WHAT: Obi-Wan hangs about Skyhold
WHEN: Since his arrival at Skyhold through Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold Library and also Some random battlements action
NOTES: None yet

1 | A Quiet, Well-Lit Place
The Inquisition Library was a curious thing. He was use to holos and databases, searchable by voice or material input, by keyword and title and author and a thousand other small conveniencs that managed, one after the other, to strie him at the worst of times. It was strange, to realize how privileged even the meanest peasant on the farthest Rim planet was, by comparison to this-- to the idea of something you needed being just at your fingertips, but so easily misplaced.

He wasn't even sure if the book he was looking for existed, let alone in a language he could be gauranteed of understanding. Translation technology was more lacking than common index, and his communicator, which might have helped, was little more than salvage.

After a time, Obi-Wan simply sighed, rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and put his latest selection away-- as unsuitable as the last. Clearly Materials Enhancement: The Enchanting Art of Lyrium was going to be of no use to him. Perhaps to anyone!

What in the world was Lyrium, anyways?

2 | The Truth Between
There were a lot of jokes made about Jedi and meditation.

Most of them were grounded in truth. For example, that Jedi were so inneffectual that they responded to ever crisis by taking a nap. Not that Obi-Wan was sleeping, despite appearances. He's sat, cross-legged, and very still, just on the edge of the parapet overlooking the peaceful goings-on of the courtyard below on one hand, and wide, wild view of the mountains on the other. The tower wall at his back provides some shelter, both from the wind, and from other people, but by and large he is quite exposed-- and, seemingly, unconcerned about this fact.

Actually, maybe he is sleeping. He hasn't moved in a long time, his eyes are closed, why, anyone could just come right up and--

"May I help you?"

...or not.

3 | Synecdoche
The Lightsaber was spread out in pieces on the table by the window. It was a lovely antique, this window, beautifully made with thick, bubbly glass in beautifully cut shapes depicting... Something, surely. Obi-Wan would likely have needed a more than passing understanding of the local religions to have said exactly what. Regardless, it was the brightest place in the tower, at this hour, with the sun streaming in to illuminate the exposed guts of his once-functional lightsaber.

The casing was cracked, of course, and several connections severed, one or two slagged beyond simple repair-- they'd need re-insulating and solder at best, and to be replaced outright, at worst. He was hoping, praying in a way, for the former. A replacement of sufficient purity and delicate construction would be hard to find in a society that viewed a blacksmith's anvil as a suitable tool for weapon-construction. And the insulating rings around the power supply weren't in their best shape either. It was a miracle the crystal wasn't cracked!

But it wasn't.

There it stood, sparkling in a beam of sunlight, glowing faintly with its own inner purity, a beautiful blue Kyber Crystal, perfectly cut in one lovely hexagonal spar. It was no longer than his thumbnail, and there was no doing without it-- thank the Force that it had survived where so much else had failed. Obi-Wan sighed, and went back to his inventory of parts, so engrossed in his work that he was for once ignorant of any observer's eye.

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"Master Kenobi." The name feels strange in her mouth, but she makes the best attempt at it that she can, Khenohbi. "I am doing what research I can on the shards and how they effect those that carry them."

With Sina as a patient, she feels her fears are well founded. Her eyes narrow somewhat at the glove, the glow, and she extends a hand to him. There is a weight of interest beyond her own, Compassion terribly curious as well, enough to lend a faint glow to her eyes. "May I?"

To answer, Obi-Wan unsnapped the handguard and let it hang from its clasp, then stripped the glove off, to hang from his belt. The hand underneath was free from scars, but marked by calluses earned in saberwork and on the yokes of speeders and starships. He offered his bare hand to her, and the glowing shard of light, brows lifted in open inquiry.

"It's not painful," he said, quietly, the atmosphere gone suddenly hushed between them, lit with the bright, close greed of shardlight, "At least, not anymore."

Blue light formed like a mist in Adelaide's palm, coiling with power from something old, something kind and ephemeral that hung about her in a cloak. Compassion offering their power to the blooming awareness of Obi-Wan's hand, the skin around the shard, the ache that might have been there. Memories of pain were more difficult to track than actual pain.

It was a cool wash of sensation wherever it touched, a stark contrast to the warmth and softness of Adelaide's hand cradling his. "How long did it take for the pain to fade?"

"It was very quick, after the Rift was closed. Although, it did ache for a few days after, I would call it very manageable," He frowned, studying her for a moment, studying the blue glow. His first instinct was to draw back, but he sensed no malice from her, in fact... "If I may ask a question of my own?"

Quite the opposite, in fact.

"That is faster than most have reported." She made a mental note of this- the variation was quite wide on all counts as to how long or short a time it took for the shard to stop aching. Her eyes flick up, luminous with Compassion's power even as the spell faded from her hand. "Of course."

"Exactly who..." He hesitated, deciding on the correct terminology, then forged ahead, "Or what else are you, aside from the obvious."

He has met many strange and beautiful beings, many sights, and there may be stranger sensations in this world than looking at someone and seeing a third observer beyond their eyes, but Obi-Wan isn't certain he could describe it. It is only the clear benevolence of that presence that brings him to ask about it so openly. The greatest application of the Force, of the mission of the Jedi, has ever had little to do with lightsabers or shows of martial strength.

It is only in compassion, for our fellow beings, that a Jedi truly fulfills his purpose.

"...I am a mage?" Her brow furrowed in confusion- it was not often any other aside from mages, from others that were sensitive to spirits were aware of Compassion. But the rifters were many and strange from stranger worlds still, perhaps she ought not be quite so surprised when one could look at her and feel her chosen partner hovering on the other side of the veil.

"A Spirit Healer. I call upon a spirit of the fade, a Spirit of Compassion, to lend their power to my magic. You...can sense Compassion? That is a rare thing." Explaining Compassion's presence in her life wasn't entirely unfamiliar- even mages that were familiar with Spirits but not themselves Spirit Healers did not quite grasp the nuances of how such a thing was done. They were rare and the path risky for a reason.

"Most Jedi can, among other things," Obi-Wan temporized, both because it was true, and because it would do him not good to reveal the fullest extent of his abilities, "I might have thought you were a merely a particularly compassionate individual, until..."

Until it became the sort of emotion no human feels, boiling over and looking out through her eyes like they truly were windows to the soul. Or rather, to the spirit.

"...Well. It's clear neither of you mean me any harm."

"How compassionate I am is a matter of debate among my patients and my students." Most were in favor of her being quite without compassion despite the spirit's presence in her life. She shook her head faintly and let her hand fall away, spell diffused and eyes returning to their usual pale blue- without Compassion's glow.

"I cannot- well. I cannot use m magic to do harm; it is part of the agreement we share. Compassion is incapable of wishing harm on anyone or anything aside from demons. Their purpose is to ease pain, not cause it." Which made it perfect for partnering with as a healer, truly. "...is that why you looked so strangely at the Tranquil? You were able to sense something...off...in him?"

"All living things have a presence, and so do they," He turned to regard the nearest Tranquil with an inquisitive eye. They continued peaceably reshelving books, taking no notice, "I would call it serenity, anywhere else. I have not felt that kind of calm..."

Well, sometimes, you did get this sort of feeling, from Masters in deep meditation. But the Tranquil weren't sitting still and communing with the essential one-ness of all things, they were... Doing things. Working. Thinking.

"It is very singular. Very strange."

"Tranquility. Mages have a connection to the Fade, it is from where we pull our power for our spells; such a connection is not without a cost. We are susceptible to possession by demons and that is a danger we live with every day of our lives. For those that are considered too unskilled or too dangerous to continue to use their power responsibly the Chantry and it's templars would enact the Right of Tranquility." Her lips pressed thin, eyes flicking out to the other shelves where the Tranquil were working.

"It severs their connection to the fade. Their magic is lost but- so too is lost their capacity for emotion. For desire, they become not entirely apathetic but beyond the capacity to care. Tending to them is a delicate thing and not all of those who did so in the past managed with the kindness or care they deserve."

"I've had it explained to me once before, this Fade," Korrin had done her best with him, bless her horns, but it hadn't quite sunk into Obi-Wan's scientifically minded brain with any staying power, "You're saying this was done to them against their will?"

He can, almost, comprehend the idea of someone, of even a society of someones, wishing to be rid of troublesome emotions. Nothing he would agree to, personally, nor agree with, but the free choice of informed, consenting adults was the primary foundation upon which the Republic rested.

This. This, was something else entirely. This was...

"Surely-- Was the danger truly that great?"

"Some choose it. Others- it is a punishment to be handed out in the most dire of circumstances, the rite forbidden to be performed without proper provocation. When a mage is unable to control their magic- or when they refuse to learn to do so and become a danger to those around them and to themselves? That is when the rite is meant to be used. That is when it was used in The White Spire. A sad reality of Thedas is what is meant, what is intended is not always what is so. I have heard tales of other Circles of Magi in Thedas where it was used for lesser offenses." Adelaide turned her eyes back to Obi-wan, that old sorrow lingering.

"Our connection to the Fade is as much a blessing for those skilled in control as it is a curse. Demons linger and would attempt to possess us if we are not careful. A mage without control is more susceptible to possession. To becoming an abomination, a twisted creature formed by the demon's intent, most often rabid and violent. A mage made Tranquil no longer suffers so great a risk. Until recently it was thought impossible that they might be possessed. I have heard rumors of possessed tranquil but...I have not seen this thing for myself. I could not say for certain if it is true."

"Then these are serious allegations," He wishes, immediately, for the support of the council, or a willing Padawan. Anakin, incendiary as he was, he never hesitated to do what he had to, to get the bottom of things like this, "The potential for abuse of power must be significant, given the consequences. Although it sounds as if the consequences for inaction are equally dire."

The consequences being, potentially an uncertain solution, to a problem Obi-Wan barely understands, while inflicting devastating, permanent damage upon someone who... He hates to make allegory where none may stand, but the idea of it is horrifying. He takes a moment, just a beat between breaths, to seek his serene center, before continuing thus calmed.

"You said 'was used'?"

"Such is life as a mage in Thedas. To the north, in the Imperium- the Rite is used as punishment for 'improper use of magic' and as mages govern and govern viciously- it is more often a political tool than justly used from what I have been told." Filtered through Dorian, but- that is what she knew. "We are in a state of truce during a war between mages and temlars. A greater enemy has rent the sky open and out have poured demons. Have pour rifters such as yourself."

The Tranquil returns, arm laden with the requested books. His voice monotone, his demeanor pleasant as she thanks him for finding what they needed. When he leaves, she continues. "The Circles have been dissolved. The Templar Order broken from the Chantry- the religious organization that created them. While it is possible there are yet templars that perform the ritual on what mages they find it is far more likely they make use of a more brutal solution. So long as the Inquisition exists those of us that do not wish for the world's end work and pray for sanctuary...but i have no doubt the war will renew once the breach is sealed once more."

"Unless a more well-founded peace can be arranged in the meantime," Obi-Wan finished the unspoken question lying in the future, the perpetual if, "In my experience, we would call that a Jedi's work. I don't know how much help I alone can be, or if I'm welcome, but if you have need of an advocate, a mediator... I do represent an unaffiliated, outside view."

Moreso than usual, even!

"It may not seem like much, but one should never underestimate the capability for a small number of suitably dedicated people to change the world."

"We are advocating for ourselves as best we can, hence the formation of the Mage Council." There are till those that ignore their authority- but the more they do for the Inquisition, for the mages- the more headway they make to earning the respect and trust of those that remain distant. The going is slow, but worthwhile. "But I do appreciate the offer. This...this world is not yours, you were pulled here against your will. You aide with the rifts is something we need but to ask more than that would be unfair."

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Coping Methods | Open

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