trans_9 | Mediation, Meditation, Inspiration for Itineration [Open]

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Mediation, Meditation, Inspiration for Itineration [Open]

Obi-Wan had done as he ought, he'd done what he could and then retired from the field. Too many hands for that pot, and not a one of them with as little sense. Still he was weary from his injury and his healing, and after a strange dream-addled sleep, what was needed most was perspective. The church was crowded, the city was an uncertain mess, and there was little enough peace to be had in the barracks— the Jedi had retired to the oft-praised sensoriums to look for a place of quiet. And he'd found in his choice of setting nothing less than what was unmistakably a Jedi Temple.

Oh, it wasn't the Temple, but the architectural style, the general layout were similar, all rounded, organics shapes an living stone. It resonated with him and so he found a cushion and a comfortable, bright lace where little but warm moist breezes and quiet birdsong reached him and began the quiet, measured breaths that were a prelude to the less combat-oriented meditation styles. Comforting quite, peacegiving pulse of the living Force in his very veins...if introspection were not so disquieting, they would have given greater balance. Obi-Wan sighed and began again. Anakin and Luke would know where to find him, when they were ready— and at least one of them deserved the lecture he'd be getting, and knew it.

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It was like a bright light in the ether, a star shining through a nebula. Stirred out of a contemplative mood, Luke unfolded himself from the squishy adipose couch and followed its glow, letting the Force tug him along until he stood before a Sensorium door. After only a moment's hesitation, the Skywalker stepped through, into a place full of peace.

He smiled, wandering the corridors for a bit. After everything that had happened lately, a little inner tranquility helped Luke find his center again, let the Force run through him freely rather than sticking in its flow.

And then he came across Obi-Wan.

The master looked calm, meditating in the warm light with the sweet scent of plants and life around them both. Not wanting to disturb his concentration, but knowing he'd been guided here for a reason, Luke hovered back a short distance, waiting for the other to call him forward.

A slight tick in his concentration, the pressure of a springwell of power in the force. It wouldn't even have disturbed him, if it weren't that it was a change, however slight, in the directional flow. Luke Skywalker was very strong in the Force, and to anyone trained in it's arts, he'd never be a subtle presence.

For a few quiet moments, Obi-Wan maintained his relaxed, straight-backed pose, hands folded peacefully in his lap, and considered simply letting it go. But no, there was no point in dithering, and the other master had been standing there for nearly five minutes, already. Obi-Wan decided not to lean on subtlety, for now.

"He's your father, isn't he." Obi-Wan asked, softly, without opening his eyes. It wasn't a question.

Anakin didn't really go to meditate. He had just found a spot to pace back and forth for awhile as he tried to think of what he could do. He still lacked answers, and he would need to talk to Luke again. But first he needed to find out exactly what it was Obi-Wan knew. If he could find that out he could better formulate stories and information around what he wanted his master to know and thus keep his secret safe.

However, there was a part of him who just wanted to get it all out. The part that stopped caring. That was disgusted by hiding the truth.

He would, however, keep that part at bay.

Seeking out Obi-Wan, he knew the Force would lead him to his former master. But he was almost hesitant to approach. But Anakin was not one to ever show fear, so he walked in. He shoved his emotions aside for now and tried to focus on his task at hand.

"Master...?"

At first his voice was softer, but as he approached he forced himself to smirk a little bit. If he fell back into the game, so would Obi-Wan, at least he hoped. "I should have known you would be here. You're always meditating." It didn't seem to matter to Anakin if he was disturbing him or not. He was known to just interrupt things when he wanted to, so this was far from a first for him.

He shifted his gaze to the surroundings for a moment as he took the whole area in.

"Are you feeling better?" He finally asked as his eyes shot back to Obi-Wan. It was best to start out with pleasantries, just as nothing was wrong.

Arha moved, slipping quietly along the corridors, her fingertips trailing against the wall for the minutest of support, until she wound up where she was supposed to be, though weary and shaky at best. She had risen because she was restless.

She had risen because someone else could not settle.

And she arrived as Obi-Wan let out a sigh.

Some part of him had been expecting this question. It was very difficult for Jedi to keep secrets from each other for very long (although his father had proved rather well that it was possible) and when they'd all been so open to each other during Arha's healing of Obi-Wan, it wasn't exactly a long stretch to think that that little tidbit had washed out with the wave.

He turned, the sound of his feet shuffling muffled slightly, and looked at the man who would be his first master. Or was. Or had been. Whichever.

"He is," Luke said simply. It felt good to speak of this with Obi-Wan. "What gave it away, beyond the last name?"

Obi-Wan was not in the mood for games, not today. He could feel the turmoil in Anakin from the entire distance of the ship— and might have been able to do so from Coruscant, for all he knew. It wouldn't be the first time. Nor would this, the cheeky way his former padawan interrupted his quiet meditation as if he hadn't a care in the world. He knew better than that.

"I noticed something, recently," he began, wishing almost that he could simply laugh it off, then frowned and shook his head. Obi-Wan began again, this time with open eyes, and he turned to pin Anakin where he stood with a piercing stare, "It was Padmé, wasn't it?"

Quiet acceptance...why was it that this Skywalker was so very different from the other? Ben would have liked to train Luke. He had a way about him, a surety that this was his right path in life. Every padawan has their challenges, but Obi-Wan was generally a good judge of character, and he thought that Luke must have been a pleasure to teach.

"You resemble each other very strongly," Obi-Wan replied without moving, "And come to think of it, your mother as well. I'm not sure why I didn't see it, before."

Anakin was expecting a lecture about him running off in anger. He was not, however, expecting that. He literally froze for a mere few seconds, his gaze locked upon Obi-Wan's own. His thoughts twisted and turned, quickly trying to formulate an answer, an excuse, something.

"What? You're not making any sense, Master." He began, his outer expression was nothing but calm, though inwardly it was a raging storm. "The senator isn't even here. I don't know why you would bring her up, or even what you are talking about."

He causally broke off their locked stare and started to move around the room. He didn't even bother looking at Obi-Wan anymore. It was taking all of his will power to stop himself from radiating a fit of simple panic.

"Look, I know you're going to lecture me for my actions earlier. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I just -- I let things go to my head. I wasn't thinking straight. It was reckless, I know. And I'll try to do better." If all else fails, change the subject.

Obi-Wan sighed. He'd expected Anakin and Luke, but Arha? Unless he missed his mark in recognizing her life-signature— and how could he, after that experience— it was Arha. Did her curiosity know no bounds? For a handful of breaths he considered speaking, but decided it would be more pertinent to stay silent. If she had something to say, she'd say it. If she had nothing to say, she would either act, or she wouldn't.

"I know," Obi-Wan acknowledged his apology with a deceptive mildness, "You do always try, and for that you are not given enough credit. To be honest, Anakin, I don't know what's gotten into you, lately. You should have been down there with me, not off arguing about— I don't even care what. Your actions have been erratic, driven by anger and frustration, poorly thought out— even by your own standards."

He paused, this wasn't what he wanted to talk about. This wasn't the topic at hand, this was tangential— a symptom, if not of Anakin's attachment, then of the stress it brought on him. Obi-Wan took a deep breath to calm himself down and recentered, "Now, I always knew you and Padmé were attracted to each other, but I didn't know how far it had gotten. And don't you dare deny it!"

With decisive hand-motion he cut off whatever Anakin had been about to say. Quietly, Ben continued, "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, I've trained you since you were nine, and I know you, Anakin Skywalker. We're...we're practically brothers, why did you feel the need to hide this from me?"

Luke smiled, padding the rest of the way over near-silently to drop into a meditative pose next to him. "Probably because we weren't in the same place in front of you before," he said simply. "From what I understand, Father kept it very secret."

And it had been his downfall. Luke thought of all the Jedi at home who now had spouses, families. It might not always be the best choice, but keeping secrets like that had only led to turmoil and bloodshed and the near eradication of the Order. Luke wouldn't let it happen again, despite that family disagreements within the Skywalker-Solo clan of Jedi tended to lead to interplanetary disputes.

"Leia--my twin sister--resembles our mother more," he said. "In appearance and the fact that she's twice the diplomat of anyone in the Galactic Alliance now."

"Obi-Wan," she said quietly. "What troubles you the most?" She ducked to peer at him in a position that ought to have been awkward, but for her, was not. "Is it that Anakin possesses a child? Or is it something else?"

She was not teasing him in the least, not now and her blue-within-blue eyes were very serious. Arha considered everything that had transpired and made a soft sound.

"I will go if you wish me to do so," she offered.

"Mmmh," Obi-Wan agreed mildly, brow furrowed. What could he say or a woman he'd never met? Luke's voice was warm, speaking of her, and if she was anything like Padmé...

...well, maybe that wasn't fair. Recent revelations were proving that Obi-Wan knew much less than he ought about the good senator. That didn't negate their years of association, and he wouldn't let this poison those kind memories...it was a puzzle. Obi-Wan let it go. Unimportant dross that could do him no good and much harm.

"I always knew they were...attracted," Obi-Wan's voice was quite soft; intimate in their proximity and the emotion— the regret and worry in his voice, "I never thought it would go as far as it's obviously gone. I suppose I was simply hoping the problem would go away if I didn't say anything."

Anakin turned sharply. Obi-Wan had struck a nerve. Couldn't Obi-Wan understand why he needed to hide it? Why he couldn't tell anyone? It was in that moment that something snapped inside Anakin. His expression grew dark. If Obi-Wan wanted to hear the truth, so be it.

"Why? You dare ask me why?" He approached slightly. "You would have gone to them. You would have had me thrown out of the order. You pretend to care about my feelings, but you don't. All the lectures, all the the times you knocked me down, never once have you simply tried to understand me!"

He broke off his movement and paced to the side.

"You didn't have a family, you didn't know what it was like to lose mine."

It was clear that his anger was rising with every word he spoke.

"You know what? I don't care anymore. So what if I love her. Love isn't something that should be shunned. It should be celebrated! She is the only thing in my life that makes me happy. And you would take that from me. You wouldn't care, you would do what you thought was in your duty."

He paused for a moment, his eyes were almost ablaze.

"And I will not let you or anyone else tell me its wrong. You will not take her from me." And as Anakin paused to stare at his former master, it was clear that his words were very much a threat.

"When did my father ever let anything go?" Luke asked, looking over with a little grin. "We both inherited his stubbornness too, though we use it in somewhat more productive ways."

Luke turned his gaze back out over the little garden, letting the quiet stretch on. Obi-Wan was less troubled by this than Anakin had seemed to be, which felt backwards to him. Why should his own father feel unease, panic, and fear when Obi-Wan did not?

Things were sure different than they'd been when Vader had identified his children.

"It's not uncommon for a healthy Jedi to father a child," Obi-Wan replied, and if he was a little stiff over it, it was because this was not something you spoke of. It was simply something that happened. Jedi were people, not saints, and a night of weakness could be forgiven, even if it resulted in illegitimate children. More often those same children grew strong in the force and became excellent Jedi in their own right, "But what Anakin has done is...it clouds his judgement, and if there is anything Anakin Skywalker does not need it is more things that will make him act irrationally."

And that was true. But it wasn't what bothered Obi-Wan the most. Obi-Wan trusted Anakin with his life...more than that, Obi-Wan had trusted Anakin with his own career. Anakin had been there, when Siri Tachi had died. He'd Seen Obi-Wan's weakness. A word to the council of how very close Obi-Wan had come, and—

No, what bothered Obi-Wan was that he trusted Anakin implicitly, and as he had discovered: that trust was not returned.

"You may stay, if you like, Arha," He continued more softly, "If it is turmoil the Force sends me rather than peace, then so be it."

Obi-Wan, very slowly, rose to his feet, and met Anakin's glare with his own. Here was the slow rage of Master Kenobi, the oft-quelled and always hidden dedication that had once driven him in heat and hatred to the very brink of the Dark Side. His fists trembled as he spoke, but his voice was calm and even, kept to a low speaking volume that contrasted sharply with Anakin's tirade, "I had a family. And I had someone I loved very much. You were there when I failed and for my failure, watched her die. You have known me for nearly thirteen years, Anakin, and in all that time I have trusted you."

He let that quietly sit between them, like a loaded gun.

"I knew there was something between you," He continued, in that same, restrained, quiet fashion, "And because it made you happy, I never said a word. You are losing control, and that is why I am telling you now; get ahold of yourself."

"One can only hope," Obi-Wan replied softly. He was not smiling, subdued and quiet. This was more like the weary, world-worn Ben Kenobi Luke had once known, sitting crosslegged beside with his arms folded over his chest in deep introspection. Somewhere, a bird chirped cheerfully, bright counterpoint to his own gray thoughts, "Is he still stubborn then, in his old age?"

Arha hrmphed softly. The little angry Jed-Eye had done well in provoking. That was the obvious thing. She was not Bene Gesserit for nothing and she caught the way the issue swirled about him. The Force itself revealed the way it tugged at him so. She had see this in another face, in another dream.

This was not to be so and she did not approve. Her eyes flicked to Obi-Wan's and she cupped his cheeks gently, pinning him with a frank, searching look as her palms warmed. Perhaps she was too close, but it mattered not.

"I am not here to cause you turmoil," Arha whispered very softly, her voice pitched soothingly. The energy, that of the desert, warm like the sands brushed out, mixing with the calm of the Force. There was only the subtlest hints of the Voice, a quiet prodding, the suggestion of complete freedom. "Let it go. This will not do. Anakin with his anger, Luke with his pain, you with your own pain. You forget. It is not supposed to be pain. That is death and sorrow and darkness."

She blinked up at him, her touch light against his cheeks.

"One day, you will let what cannot be changed go."

Anakin always wondered if Obi-Wan suspected anything, but he tried not to think about it. It was better that they pretended nothing was going on and let it stay like that.

But this was treading on dangerous ground. Anakin knew it, and Obi-Wan probably knew it as well. But the young Jedi didn't seem to care.

"You think this is me out of control? No, I am perfectly in control of myself."

He shifted in his stance lightly.

"You never trusted me. No one trusts me. I can feel their fear. They're afraid of my power. Maybe you are too, which is why you always held me back. You didn't want me to become better than you."

It was irrational, and inwardly Anakin was trying to justify everything. Even the little things he could not.

"Padmé and I are married. You didn't know that, did you? I kept that a secret this entire time. And there are other things you don't know. Things I couldn't tell you. I could never confide in you, Master, all it would earn me is a lecture. A statement telling me I was wrong. But you have no idea how deep my scars run, do you?"

Something in Luke closed up; they were right back to where they'd just been, but with a different flavor this time. Did he want to tell Obi-Wan the full truth and make things incredibly awkward among them, when their own skills at negotiation and conflict resolution (well, his father's skills at those were somewhat dubious but the idea was there) may be needed in concert?

"He never made it to old age," Luke said softly. "He died after a brutal battle."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to disagree, took the breath he'd need to speak, and instead exhaled, low and smooth. She was right. She was right, and Anakin was still so young. What was wrong with him, getting so hurt over something that could only cause such trouble? He'd never had any trouble keeping his silence on the subject before. A bubble of amusement at his own idiocy bloomed in Obi-Wan's heart.

"Next we shall have to present you to the council," Obi-Wan replied after a quite minute of thought, his tone lightly teasing, "As a replacement for Master Yoda. Thank you."

In automatic response, Obi-Wan's own stance shifted, ever so slightly. His head came back, shoulders a little off-center. For a very long time he simply stared at Anakin as one might stare at a stranger on the street, trying to find in them the resemblance to someone you once knew, searching for the memory of their name from your own past.

"Perhaps I do not," He replied, anger once again gone from voice and body— or hidden, "But I am not your master, not any longer. And if, by now, you do not know the lessons I gave you, then that is my failing, not yours. I have failed you, Anakin, and for that I am sorry. I have no wish to fight you."

"Mmn," she murmured, her smile easy. "You do not have the little green, big eared man with you, the least I can do," Arha brushed his cheek with a thumb, her eyes crinkling at the corners with humor, "is see where reason lies when all his chaos. Those who are closest to us will often try our patience and bring our ire to boil."

Wryness pulled at her expression.

"The boy is young and filled with choices, some a rooted darkly. It is anger and fear he must master and it is those two, fear provoking the other, that leads him to where he is." Her fingertips slipped away from his face as she tilted her chin up to catch the light.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain," she murmured, then fell silent for a few beats.

"This you should all learn," she said. "This controls the fear that leads to anger that leads to confusion that leads to rage that leads to death."

A heavy sigh, the weight of the world settling on the thin shoulders of a very tired soldier. Obi-Wan's reply was toneless, "Ah. That makes sense, I suppose."

And it did. Anakin was always fighting something. Fighting a battle, fighting society, fighting— well, everything and everyone. That he should die in battle came as no great surprise. It was a shame, for Obi-Wan loved him, and would have liked to entertain for a little longer the pleasant lie of a happy Anakin, nicknaming his grandchildren 'snips,' and imparting Obi-Wan's lessons in his twilight years.

He knew without asking that Obi-Wan himself died alone. That seemed to be his fate, after all; to be alone. Perhaps it was best this way, the Force only knew how.

"If you don't mind, Master Luke, I would very dearly enjoy letting the rest of the future to come as a surprise."

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Mediation, Meditation, Inspiration for Itineration [Open]

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