trans_9 | Rain, Rain, Go Away

Current Mood: uncomfortable

Entry tags:

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Arha had been standing in the same spot for a very long time, staring into the the rainsoaked world she had asked he Sensorium to create. She had done much research before she had begun to pull the world into her mind--many hours in the library looking at all sorts of worlds with rain--and now that the world was actually created, she couldn't make herself go inside. It wasn't as if Arrakis hadn't had its rainy days while she'd been there; the open puddles on the streets of Arrakeen proved that, but on those days Arha had stayed in her cave and waited it out, burrowed down like Shai-Hulud in the depths of the sand.

And she still wanted to do that, epecially now that she was staring at her fear.

She was a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother and she was not supposed to be scared witless of water. But here she was, her fingers digging into the opening of the Sensorium, trying to control the way her flesh crawled at the jungle and the way the wind slanted the water that fell from the sky. Double moons hung in the sky along with a larger gas planet, barely visible between the tangled trees and lust glowing undergrowth. There was a skittering of claws as a birdlike creature ran past and a loud rasping call; Stacy, obviously had decided to take the inhabitants into her own creative design as Arha hadn't specified.

Breathe.

"It is just water," she said. Somewhere deep within that jungle, Arha could hear crashing waves--a thing called an ocean. "Lots of water." Get a hold of yourself, child! Face your fear. If this ship ever lets you off, how will you do what is needed if the world is wet? Move!

"Thallamaka al-lahu wa-natharaka," Arha snarled under her breath. The knowledge of many lifetimes--some that had seen water-soaked worlds, which should have been enough to ease her fear--and she was being scolded by a wrinkled old woman would would have slapped her with a stick across her rear for being such a child. The curse was appropriate, though God could not split a dead woman, nor scatter her. And how she wished for such at this moment. But it was a true thing and she was being such an idiot about it.

Arha stiffened and forced herself to walk into the rain.

She was soaked in a second, cursing, and in the most un-Bene Gesserit way, flailing in panic, as she reeled straight out of the Sensorium.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sharp Tongue jumps back with an alarmed hiss as Arha comes dashing along, nearly colliding with the raptor.

"Watch where you walk!" she snarls.

Arha jerked herself out of the way and slammed herself up against the nearest wall, wiping at the water on her face and dripping as she stared up at the raptor. It took her a moment to force the fear down and she swallowed hard.

"Normally," she snapped, "I would, Sharp Tongue."

"Then why did you not just now?" she huffs. "And why are you dripping? I had thought there was no water on this ship in quantity. I had in part blamed the lack of life here upon it."

"I was attempting a simulation," Arha said, thumbing at the Sensorium doorway. "It's wet. Very wet." And quite obviously, from the lingering hints of terror lurking in her face (which Arha was working extremely hard to push down), she was not a fan of wet places.

It didn't exactly answer the question.

"I have never been to a place so wet," she said, pitching her voice so it came out mild instead of the squeak it might have been. "It is not at all like my desert."

Sharp Tongue shakes her head and snorts. "You run from rain?" Translation: Scravis, you humans are weird!

"I was shelled on the plains but I have traveled far and seen many strange places. A rainy land is no greater danger. Why fear it?"

She can smell it on Arha and see the small traces of the shock in her expression. It just flatly makes no sense to the raptor.

"It is an inborn, irrational fear," Arha said, content with pressing her back into the solid wall. Somehow, it gave her the strength she was lacking. "One that I haven't yet figured out the root cause for. I have never truly been in a place with so much water, but then, it may be a side effect from killing a great sandworm with the unique talent I seem to have. I have absorbed a great deal of it. To that beast, water was poison."

Sharp Tongue thinks about the creature she saw with Sheeana down in the city, and how it was supposed to grow very, very large.

"Did you kill it alone?" she asks. Raptor priorities are a bit different from human ones.

"I did," Arha murmured. "But he asked me to, there was no fight. He was dying. All I did was end his pain."

"How did you kill something so many times larger than yourself?"

Sharp Tongue is a shaman, not a warrior, but she's covetous of knowledge in general and if she thinks it's something that she could teach her tribe to put to use against, say, a tyrannosaur, that would be very awesome. And worth quite a bit of status.

"I have no real answer for that," Arha said thoughtfully. "It is something that I was born with, a gene mutation of some sort--such is speculation, of course. I am a healer," she held up her hands, "that power lies within touch. But what can heal can kill. Normally, I concentrate on cell growth, bodily regeneration much as I do with my own body as a Bene Gesserit. Conversely, cell degeneration produces death. I put my hands on the worm's hide, focused for a very long time and killed him thusly. It was a great cost to myself as I nearly killed myself doing it."

Arha blinked, then shook her head.

"Every force has an opposite," she murmured almost absently. "And every healer can use their tools to kill."

Red Snout had been lazily making hsi way to the Sensoriums, intending to come up with something he could chase and kill, if only for the exercise. Then the human had come barreling out of the Sensoriums right into his path. He came up short, giving the human a perturbed look. Strange creatures, humans.

"Did you create something too frightening for your human mind to face?" He quipped, turning an eye on the Sensorium doors.

"I am not accustomed to rainfall," Arha snapped, jamming herself up against the nearest wall as she locked her fear away. Out of respect for Sharp Tongue, who Sheeana was training, she refrained from verbally (or physically) assaulting the creature--and honestly, it was not something Obi-Wan would have taken kindly with. The Jed-Eye (most of them) seemed to prefer not inciting violence.

She wondered if the raptor would be able to catch her.

"If you want to hunt, that place has things in it."

Red Snout snorted. Then he snorted again, chuffing raptor laughter escaping him. That was amazing. A human, afraid of rain of all things. It's too much!

"Rain? Really? You are afraid of rain?"

"Most people are afraid of what is alien to them," Arha said simply, ignoring his tone. "Imagine living for most of your life without ever seeing a drop of rain. Perhaps you've been told about this thing that comes from the sky, perhaps not. But it is not natural to your world. I have never seen what the call a sea, much less a full rain such as that. Humans are afraid of much less things than falling water."

Her tone turned wry.

"Some people are afraid of everything. And I shall not be afraid of rain for much longer. This is why I have created this place, so that I shall face my fear."

"It is good that you will face it. That is the way to defeat fear. But one should not completely eradicate it. Fear gives one an edge in battle, lets one know when things may be too risky. The trick is in learning to face and control your fear." He nodded sagely.

"Never will I be completely unafraid of it," Arha said quietly. "There will always be a part of me that will be wary. I am a warrior in my own right and I have been trained since I was young to let my senses guide me. Fear is primal, useful, and needed. Extreme fear of water is not. I keep the good and sift the bad."

Obi-Wan had been watching for a full ten minutes as she steeled herself to go in, and then fled in horror from the deluge. He was ready for it, of course, and caught her up in his arms as Arha fled blindly from the artificial weather.

"Easy! Easy now, relax," He cautioned the girl gently, "Deep breaths. It's not going to hurt you."

Obi-Wan.

Acting like a wali was the stupidest thing she'd ever done in his presence. It was just water. Just. It wasn't boiling, it wasn't acidic, it was just double bonded hydrogen and oxygen. Telling herself that didn't help. Arha realized she was attempting to bury herself into him and forced herself to be still, letting the momentary terror of the rain subside.

"Thought," she said tightly, "I could do it. I thought I could."

His first instinct was to suggest a warm blanket and hot tea, but the look on her face changed her mind. This was a test, a trial.

"Take a deep breath," He instructed her, "And center yourself. You can do this. I'll go with you."

I can do this. It's just water. Water. That's all. And it's just fear. Arha drew a breath in and let it out slowly, pulling on the Force just a little even as she pulled on her training as a Bene Gesserit. She would be calm and she would face this.

She opened her eyes and fixed them on his, her gaze sharp and her jaw tight enough that she could feel her teeth creak.

"I will do this," she said in a low, steeled voice. "Do not let me back out." Her fingers cupped his face and her eyes blazed with determination. "It is only fear, yes? Just fear."

"I will make no such promise," Obi-Wan cautioned, "But I will not leave, without you."

Taking her hand from his face, he deliberately held it between his own, offering support. For a long moment, Ben seemed to study her expression, then nodded, decisively, "You can overcome this. But you must remain calm. Patience; use the force."

Arha nodded once and curled her fingers around his hand before briefly squeezing it. There was no sense in being afraid of this water falling from the sky. She had no trauma from it. It is the sandworm.

Arha half pushed herself away from him and glowered at the doorway. She had faced the gom jabbar, the desert sandstorms, the great Shai-Hulud, she had faced a terrible darkness when Kalim and the entire hieghliner was destroyed. What did it say if she couldn't face rain? She was Fremen and she was Bene Gesserit.

If the two together were not enough, she would be Jed-Eye. It was to the Force that Arha turned and she opened her mind to it, let it settle within her, armored herself in it.

"I am calm," she said quietly, and her voice was steady.

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan took a step forward, then another, moving in time with Arha's feet. The rain washed over his shoulders oppressively, and without thinking he blew, clearing the wet from his moustache enough to breath. He knew it made him look like a walrus, but didn't care. Wet. Wet-wet-wet. Oh, well, it was still better than Kamino, and he'd had to fight in that.

Wet, wet, wet, it was wet, it was horribly we-- Arha pushed the panic away and clung to the Force (and perhaps to Obi-Wan's arm)as the hard rain slammed through the trees. She fought the impulse to run and then Obi-Wan distracted her.

She bit down on her bottom lip, but knew he'd sense her amusement anyway.

And it was just wet, sheets and sheets of wet falling from an unfamiliar sky. Her heart was still attempting to roar in her ears but she fix that and forced her body to be calm. It was as much a physical thing as it was a mental thing. She let her senses expand slightly instead of compressing them down. It wasn't cold rain.

It was warm.

The colors weren't murky at all, in fact, all around them was brilliance despite the rain itself. And even that was starting to let up. Not a great deal, but enough that the huge leaves were starting to block it out.

Arha steadied herself against Obi-Wan, her expression as determined as ever, but not quite as terrified.

"There, now," He gentled her grip with a patting hand. Obi-Wan turned to look at her, questioningly, "Alright?"

"I have not died," Arha said and the bite in her voice was definitely not geared towards him. "It is," she swallowed hard, "...acceptable."

Her fingers loosened a little more until they were just resting against his arm and she let out a breath. Still alive. It was unpleasant and made her skin crawl, but she was not dead.

And there they stood, like two idiots, soaking to the bone in a rainstorm of their own making. Obi-Wan stoically let the water drip through his beard for a few minutes, listening to the half-musical cacophony of raindrops on leaves around them, then sighed.

"Enough?" He asked, teasing Arha with mild sarcasm, "Or shall we stand here until we catch cold? Even a Gungan would get out of this mess."

"It is never enough," she muttered and flashed a smile. "But for now, I'm sure it will have to do." The world was saved for later recall and they were left standing in a great white emptiness that was the default room setting. Arha's hair was plastered to her face haphazardly and she closed her eyes, warm rain or not, it was starting to chill her. She raised her body temperature to stop the shivering.

Obi-Wan noticed the sudden warmth in once-frigid fingers, and frowned, "Oh, surely not...you're cheating!"

Of course, he would say that, hair stuck flat, beard saturated, and with his Master's cloak clinging to his plantsuit's shoulders and chest as if painted there. Obi-Wan rolle dhis eyes longsufferingly and sighed. The thing ones does for one's friends.

"Is it?" she murmured innocently, her chin tilted as a drying unit and a pile of blankets appeared along with a couch. Cups of hot tea, as well sat, steaming, on a low table. "Give," Arha said, tugging at his robe authoritatively.

Prudishly, Obi-Wan clung to his robe a moment, then let it go with as much grace as he could muster, allowing the weatherworn garment to be taken from him. Presently, he found himself ensconced comfortably on the couch, sipping tea and warming up in comfort. It had an odd taste, like desert spices and bitter cinnamon, strangely familiar, somehow. Obi-Wan considered the cup thoughtfully, and nearly let it go, but for a lack of else to talk of, he asked, "What is this tea? It's wonderful, but I've never tasted anything quite like it."

"Spice," Arha murmured after tucking his robe into the dryer. "Not real Spice for you, but the taste of it, I see, is one Stacy has elected to let you have. My cup will have my daily allotment of Spice in it. It is very much that bitter cinnamon taste."

She crossed the space to the couch and curled into the plush cushions after retrieving her own cup. Arha curled into Obi-Wan, letting her heat augment that of the tea and blanket as she nudged up her temperature a little more.

Well, wasn't this intimate?

Obi-Wan thought for a moment of how good it felt, just to be touched by another human being. It was odd, how easy it was to stand aloof...when was the last time someone had so much as clasped his hand? Every waking moment, and a great deal of sleeping ones, spent in war and worry and wariness. Obi-Wan thought about Anakin, and all the times— no. He thought of Luke and Mara, of being pushed aside, of that drop in his gut that made him realize he could die and be of no less use. Of how happy they all seemed to make each other.

Obi-Wan decided that he needed more tea, and that standing was necessary to get it. This involved extracting himself from Arha, but that was a relief, in it's own way: it was so tempting to enjoy it.

"Spice? Just Spice?" he commented, though his voice seemed to come from someone else, who could act self-assured at a time like this, "It's interesting."

"Spice and black tea," she murmured, shifting back against the couch with a soft sigh as she tucked her feet under the blanket. She watched him carefully for a few moments, then dropped her gaze to her tea. "On Arrakis, the tea plants soak up the Spice in the air and when the leaves are dried for tea, Spice is infused into the beverage."

She wondered if he was going to remain standing the entire time, now. Arha pulled her temperature back down to what it would have been if she hadn't been laying around with her internal control. It left her distinctly chilled and she clutched her tea.

"It is a calming beverage for me."

He realized how awkward he looked, and gave a wane smile to cover it as he turned with refilled cup and settled on her other side, leaving the warm place where he'd sat previously for her consideration.

"I can hardly remember life before the Temple...no such distinctive foods for a youngling to cling to," If his voice was strained, Ben could not hear it. Was lying so natural for a diplomatic man, or was it that he had convinced himself it was nothing, "We ate very plainly back then."

"The desert gave us spices and Spice," Arha said quietly, "so that, in such a barren land, we would have something to sing about." It was not her own saying, but one that had come from a market woman peddling her spices. She could see the woman's Fremen eyes crinkle with laughter still, but she, like so many others were the victims of war and chaos. Her words, however lived on.

Arha took a sip of tea, letting wash through her in a wave of heat that dimmed almost immediately. She debated curling back into him, but didn't as it had made him obviously uncomfortable moments ago. Instead, she tucked herself in and (miserably of her own account, now) worked on her tea.

"The good thing about new foods," she said, working at keeping her voice steady, "is that they are always there to be tried no matter your age."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rain, Rain, Go Away

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject