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trans_92009-08-30 12:58 pm
restoresbalance.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-08-30 12:58 pm
Entry tags:
[oo3; daydreaming]
The mists swirled in his mind, hazy figures reaching out to him and being buffeted away by the wind of his passing. Luke was in the tan and brown of the Jedi Grandmaster, his cloak whipping back and forth behind him. Leaning into the wind, a hand on his lightsaber, Luke walked through this dream world of shadows and phantoms. It was what often comprised his dreams. Sixty years of memories, battles, deaths and regrets; it all blended together after a while.
But then he paused.
In the little sleeping cubby he'd crawled into earlier after carefully reviewing the information from the trial, Luke's brow furrowed in his sleep. If Mara had been sleeping there beside him, she'd have likely awoken and smoothed his hair back, calming him from the nightmares that sometimes cropped up. War did that to people, made corpses of them all, even those who survived.
A distinct figure appeared in the fog, a face he knew and didn't know. Obi-Wan looked younger than Luke remembered, his eyes less sad, his robes less careworn. He was wearing armor that reminded Luke of a stormtrooper's molded plastoid armor, commanding stormtroopers with a silent, shouted command. His lightsaber hummed blue in his hand.
Luke reached for Obi-Wan, shouting, Ben! But the man didn't hear him, and a strong pull of the Force yanked Luke backwards, through the shadowy figures of those whom he loved and still did love, back through the swirling tunnel of fog, and back to his body.
Luke awoke with a start, and slithered out of the cubby so he could slide to sitting on the warm, squishy floor. The air was too humid, and didn't cool his sweaty body at all. He felt the suit sucking up the moisture though, and ran a finger over the pulsating, membranous thing, silently thanking it. Suit though it was, it still had the pulse of life in it, and he would show it courtesy as he would a tree or a sentient being. After all, it was part of how he got his power.
He would have to endure that face-sucking thing in the bathroom though, and possibly get stabbed by the hydrating needle--but he probably needed it. Force-given dreams didn't come to him often--the last time they had, they'd been foretelling Caedus' rise and Jacen's fall, and had haunted him with a shadow-cloaked figure that resonated evil. But why would the Force have him dream of Obi-Wan now? Obi-Wan had died on the first Death Star, slashed through by his father's lightsaber, and his body had become one with the Force. Luke hadn't even seen Obi-Wan's Force-ghost since they liberated Coruscant from the Yuuzhan Vong.
Shaking his head, Luke got his feet under him and made his way into the bathroom, mentally steeling himself for the experience. The Force would make its will clear in time, and he'd learned better than to question it.
But then he paused.
In the little sleeping cubby he'd crawled into earlier after carefully reviewing the information from the trial, Luke's brow furrowed in his sleep. If Mara had been sleeping there beside him, she'd have likely awoken and smoothed his hair back, calming him from the nightmares that sometimes cropped up. War did that to people, made corpses of them all, even those who survived.
A distinct figure appeared in the fog, a face he knew and didn't know. Obi-Wan looked younger than Luke remembered, his eyes less sad, his robes less careworn. He was wearing armor that reminded Luke of a stormtrooper's molded plastoid armor, commanding stormtroopers with a silent, shouted command. His lightsaber hummed blue in his hand.
Luke reached for Obi-Wan, shouting, Ben! But the man didn't hear him, and a strong pull of the Force yanked Luke backwards, through the shadowy figures of those whom he loved and still did love, back through the swirling tunnel of fog, and back to his body.
Luke awoke with a start, and slithered out of the cubby so he could slide to sitting on the warm, squishy floor. The air was too humid, and didn't cool his sweaty body at all. He felt the suit sucking up the moisture though, and ran a finger over the pulsating, membranous thing, silently thanking it. Suit though it was, it still had the pulse of life in it, and he would show it courtesy as he would a tree or a sentient being. After all, it was part of how he got his power.
He would have to endure that face-sucking thing in the bathroom though, and possibly get stabbed by the hydrating needle--but he probably needed it. Force-given dreams didn't come to him often--the last time they had, they'd been foretelling Caedus' rise and Jacen's fall, and had haunted him with a shadow-cloaked figure that resonated evil. But why would the Force have him dream of Obi-Wan now? Obi-Wan had died on the first Death Star, slashed through by his father's lightsaber, and his body had become one with the Force. Luke hadn't even seen Obi-Wan's Force-ghost since they liberated Coruscant from the Yuuzhan Vong.
Shaking his head, Luke got his feet under him and made his way into the bathroom, mentally steeling himself for the experience. The Force would make its will clear in time, and he'd learned better than to question it.