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trans_92009-09-06 02:09 am
jedimacguyver.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-09-06 02:09 am
Cityscape Meditations [Open]
Breathe, inhale, count again.
It had taken Obi-Wan hours to find a place flat and open enough to do this in. He'd originally wanted a clearing or courtyard, but in the end the only thing that had turned up was a flat rooftop near what he'd dubbed the "North" end of the strange city in this insane place.
Step, turn back, begin again. Third form, faster now; breathe, inhale, and lift—
Comforting basics, he'd run this form a thousand times or more. He'd mastered it. There were no fancy moves, nor clever flourishes in this calm ballet. The Lightsaber hilt was warm and comforting in his hand; familiar design, familiar grip, the hum a constant stream of nostalgia near his ear as Obi-Wan whirled it again into the third stance, then the fourth.
Start again, faster, faster, the blade became and arc of light, blinding quick in time with hurried, open-mouthed breaths, less meditation than workout, now. One arm extended in a lunge— that was a touch of form two, unneeded. Calmer, slower, hold and block, it was like shadowboxing as the Jedi ran through the exercise, imagining with eyes closed a barrage of enemies and blaster-fire against a lone man and a beam of trapped power. The mock-fight cusped and faded, and in the wake left peace. This was the will of the Force glowing bright within him, re-centered and ready to face whatever this experience threw at him. If he wasn't meant to be here, then he wouldn't. Whatever else may be happening, he must be able to do some good in this place. That was his duty, as a Jedi Master, as a tool and expression of the Force within him.
And he opened his eyes, look up and smiled as the hissing crackle of a deactivating Lightsaber punctuated his meditational exercise, "Well, hello. Come for a lesson, have we?"
It had taken Obi-Wan hours to find a place flat and open enough to do this in. He'd originally wanted a clearing or courtyard, but in the end the only thing that had turned up was a flat rooftop near what he'd dubbed the "North" end of the strange city in this insane place.
Step, turn back, begin again. Third form, faster now; breathe, inhale, and lift—
Comforting basics, he'd run this form a thousand times or more. He'd mastered it. There were no fancy moves, nor clever flourishes in this calm ballet. The Lightsaber hilt was warm and comforting in his hand; familiar design, familiar grip, the hum a constant stream of nostalgia near his ear as Obi-Wan whirled it again into the third stance, then the fourth.
Start again, faster, faster, the blade became and arc of light, blinding quick in time with hurried, open-mouthed breaths, less meditation than workout, now. One arm extended in a lunge— that was a touch of form two, unneeded. Calmer, slower, hold and block, it was like shadowboxing as the Jedi ran through the exercise, imagining with eyes closed a barrage of enemies and blaster-fire against a lone man and a beam of trapped power. The mock-fight cusped and faded, and in the wake left peace. This was the will of the Force glowing bright within him, re-centered and ready to face whatever this experience threw at him. If he wasn't meant to be here, then he wouldn't. Whatever else may be happening, he must be able to do some good in this place. That was his duty, as a Jedi Master, as a tool and expression of the Force within him.
And he opened his eyes, look up and smiled as the hissing crackle of a deactivating Lightsaber punctuated his meditational exercise, "Well, hello. Come for a lesson, have we?"
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