Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
obi_wanmanshow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2016-03-12 03:02 pm
obi_wanmanshow) wrote in faderift2016-03-12 03:02 pm
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
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.
no subject
The chair, he doesn't yet rise out of, content for now to project his interest across the space, until the need for closer examination will ultimately win out.
"What is it, pray?"
no subject
Obi-Wan pointed out each part in turn, the cracked casing, worn and blackened shielding around the power source, and all the rest. Small things, but when added up led to no kind of function.
"I've been trying to research the materials available. I should be able to fix this, if I can find what I need. But I might only have one chance; I have to be sure, before I act. Some of these parts won't survive a secondary overload like the one it got. coming through that Rift."
no subject
"We've codices regarding the magical properties of minerals-- other organic materials, woods, and so on, if you'd like me to dig them up for you. I understand magic to have other wholly altered systems and frameworks across multiple worlds, so you likely have your work cut out for you, but--"
But. Perhaps it isn't impossible.
"What does it look like, when it's not in pieces?"
no subject
And, so it truly does. But Obi-Wan is an old hand at this trick; when he was young, it took a real effort, nearly a meditative trance to pull it off. That was then, and for a long time now, he's been able to do it with no more preparation than this.
He sits back in his chair, comfortably, and for a moment moves not all. All at once, the pieces rise into the air over the table, maneuvering with smooth, silent precision into place. Screws wind themselves into their sockets, pieces slot together with soft clicks and the crystal fits precisely where it belongs, the whole of the assembly closing around it with all the balletic grace of a blossom closing for the night. Obi-Wan holds out his hand, for all the world as if to a friend, and the lightsaber settles into it, obedient as a trusted hound.
"There, like that," Then he turns it to show the damage from the outside, "Ordinarily, I might be content just to patch the casing, but I don't like the way it splits along the emitter like that. It's too risky, a failure there and I might lose an arm."
no subject
Dorian doesn't startle, but his head tips in keen interest as he watches the device come together magically. It reminds him a little of the fine-work exercises taking up arduous hours of his own apprenticeships, but even more intricate and considered, much finer than floating pebbles, ripples in water, or even piecing together glass shards. (In the same way he isn't much of a healer, his hand has always been too heavy to master these intricacies.)
And then, once it's put together-- while, honestly, it doesn't look very remarkable, but it does look distinctly alien. Emitter puts in to mind emission, a producer of something, similar terminology to some of the ways one might consider the way a particularly sophisticated staff is engineered.
On the topic of that; "Sounds a little like what happens when you allow a hair-line split to linger in one's staff. One moment, you're merrily blasting fire in the face of whatever demon's sprung from a rift, and whoops, you didn't plan for yourself to be immolated, did you?"
no subject
Nobody's that kinky. Probably. Hopefully.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Jedi Order-- ah, just Obi-Wan is fine."