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thread: tea
Mar. 3rd, 2023 05:40 pm[ It's been two days since Claude's... revelation. It feels like a much too simple word for something so complex but then, on the other hand, what else is it? There used to be one reality in which Obi-Wan killed Anakin - failed him, not once but many, many times over. He's lived within that reality for two years, trying to navigate his own guilt-infested waters and it's been exhausting, like dragging your limbs through dense, unyielding dredge. All the same, he's kept walking. There'd been people worth fighting for, still, and with them, the promises of a different world on the other side of everything, even if he wouldn't necessarily be there to see it. If nothing else, once dead, he'd be... they'd be at peace. All of them. The Jedi, lost in the Temple or throughout the galaxy during Order 66. Anakin, lost much earlier than that. And Obi-Wan, who'd somehow managed to survive but lost enough of himself to very nearly match them, regardless.
Yes, he'd been prepared to soldier through and then, die.
Within this new reality, however, he's lost all certainty.
He's busy now, setting up the small table in the lounge area in his room, dusting sand off the surface though he shouldn't rightly bother - it's a fact of life out here, the sand. He doesn't hate it, not the way Anakin used to do - does, perhaps, if he still - well. In any case, he doesn't but then again, he wasn't born to deal with it. He simply adapts, the way he's done for years and years now, and sets the table for two, his old teapot and two ceramic cups adorning the table along with a small bowl of nutty biscuits that Padmé sent along with the latest courier. An apology, he thinks, of a sort. To his face, she'd merely told him that she'd had to protect her assets and the mere idea that she'd considered Obi-Wan a risk factor...
His lips tighten. Of course she had.
Looking the table over critically, despite the fact that he's got absolutely nothing more of any value to add, he waits for his guest to join him. ]
Yes, he'd been prepared to soldier through and then, die.
Within this new reality, however, he's lost all certainty.
He's busy now, setting up the small table in the lounge area in his room, dusting sand off the surface though he shouldn't rightly bother - it's a fact of life out here, the sand. He doesn't hate it, not the way Anakin used to do - does, perhaps, if he still - well. In any case, he doesn't but then again, he wasn't born to deal with it. He simply adapts, the way he's done for years and years now, and sets the table for two, his old teapot and two ceramic cups adorning the table along with a small bowl of nutty biscuits that Padmé sent along with the latest courier. An apology, he thinks, of a sort. To his face, she'd merely told him that she'd had to protect her assets and the mere idea that she'd considered Obi-Wan a risk factor...
His lips tighten. Of course she had.
Looking the table over critically, despite the fact that he's got absolutely nothing more of any value to add, he waits for his guest to join him. ]
