faderift | Coping Methods

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Was Seeker Pentaghast one of them? And did anyone decide to call you a demon too or have we finally passed that point?" It's worth hazarding a guess on both counts, certainly after one of the guards grabbed Araceli by the leg to get her down and off to her interrogation though Stannis Baratheon is only a particularly sour memory.

"Araceli Bonaventura, currently Skyhold's climbing instructor, former thief; there is little call for such things here." She could say that she's learning how to be a bard but the fewer people who know right now, the better, that seems to be an advantage. "I haven't heard of a Jedi before, what in the world is that?"

"A Jedi is a guardian of the people, a peacekeeper in times of strife," He'd been repeating that often enough that it takes on an air of rote about it, "A Jedi Knight protects the downtrodden and looks after the well-being of the galaxy as a whole, int he service of the Force, and the Jedi Council. Or, we do out best to do so. We're only fallible mortal creatures, you know."

Knowledge of one's weaknesses is the first step towards strengthening them; you cannot overcome what you do not understand.

"It is my very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Bonaventura."

There are always little moments that make her realise just how lucky she is to come from a place where real war is only a memory but she perks up at the mention of the downtrodden. "I don't know what the force is but, there are few enough in most places who care for the ones not born to titles or silver spoons in their mouths, like myself. So...is like a certain sort of soldier, or guard? Where I come from we don't have even what Skyhold has. No knights or standing armies. Royalty has guards, the nobility can hire guards; if you have the coin you can get them."

No guarantees to them being decent people rather than someone just out of coin though she would vouch for all her fellow guards if more in Skyhold knew of that part of her life.

"Just Araceli is fine, my name is a mouthful enough for most."

"Araceli, then," His smile is warm, gentle if ungenteel, "Jedi aren't mercenaries for hire. We take requests, but a Jedi will typically be given their mission by the Jedi Council. There's no exchange of money; we do what we do for the greater good."

In fact, Araceli may see just about every possession Obi-Wan has, just by looking at him.

"It's not for everyone. Of course, anyone can leave the Order whenever they like. But those who stay are given the opportunity to change the world for the better... When not being shouted at by Seeker Pentaghast, of course."

"That is terrible, even royal guards get paid." Her wages are good, but well, she doesn't really broadcast that one because you stand out more then. "So where do the Jedi Council get missions from?"

Obi-Wan no. No that's just sad.

"Everyone has a very different idea of better, even before I came here the nobles certainly didn't agree with ideas that everyone should have enough money to both eat and have a roof over their heads." Her tone is light enough but she rolls her eyes as she says it, because well, she's had to sit and listen to that sort of argument said to her face. "I think her job has been made very hard. She did apologise for frightening me, at the very least."

And she didn't shout at her for crying, always a bonus.

"I have enough to get by, with what I need. Everything else is extra," He chuckles at her exasperation-- it's not that she's outraged, that much he approves of. Injustice, though in this case it's only perceived injustice, should inspire outrage, "The Jedi Council take requests for help both from the Senate, the seat of government, and directly from those who need it. Sometimes we uncover problems all on our own; not unlike the Inquisition, in that way."

Although the Inquisition is a wobbly-legged foal, new-born into the business of preserving the world, and the Jedi are a thousand generations well-seasoned and well-respected; that being some of their problem in either case... But the comparison still stands.

"Seeker Pentaghast is in a... complicated position, to be sure."

"You're lucky. Where I live there are so many people who have to choose between a roof or a meal, even when they have a job." It's not the only reason she became a thief, but it was definitely why she remained one for so long instead of hopping on a ship and taking to sailing; how could she live in a building with so many hungry mouths when she was good enough to steal the expensive trinkets that kept people fed for a month at a time? "There's nothing quite like the Inquisition back home but in my own country, our queen has become very dedicated in reforms since she came to power, to help the common folk. Of course her advisors and most of the nobles or wealthy scream and wail as if she's cutting their throats."

What Leandra would make of this place, Araceli isn't sure, it's nearly impossible to imagine her away from the sea but she does know that the suffering would break her heart, that Araceli and the other five of her elite guards would never be still for a moment, they would always be off on missions until they and their queen collapsed.

Dropping her voice, she smiles sadly, remembering her arrival and how Cassandra had looked at her towards the end of the interrogation.

"Those of us that came here first when the rift opened over the ruins of Haven? That was when they finally found their Herald's body, the word came just as we all wandered through the gates for the first time. There was unpleasantness after the funeral, the mages and the Templars argued and I think it came to blows at times too, a Knight-Commander that has since departed suspected all of us rifters as demons at first. Refugees don't really have a choice in where they go, and that's what the rifts have made of us. I believe her when she says she wants to keep the people safe but people don't agree on safe. And some people are more equal than others."

This just in Stannis Baratheon, confirmed to be a prick.

Coping Methods | Open

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