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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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knowledgequeenabc · 4 years

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you belong to me, my snow white queen, there’s nowhere to run

I’ve been so dead inside I never posted my NNQ fics but, happy belated tenth, Ninjago! the fandom has been wonderful and I’ve made so many friends, seen so much beautiful work, made it through so much because of this silly little plastic ninja show. <3 This fic’s title comes from “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence (yeah I know don’t @ me), if you wanna. set the mood for this one. We’re gonna be following Nya after Skybound for a bit and it won’t be pretty.

Nya remembers it all.

It never happened, of course. That was the condition of Jay’s last wish: that none of it had ever happened in the first place.

Yet she remembers.

It’s good that she does, honestly. She’ll recognize the threat if it ever presents itself again. Plus, the others don’t remember, so they can’t worry themselves about it.

Jay wanted to tell them. “No more secrets,” he said. She’s proud of him, she really is, at least he’s learned from dragging them through hell and back …

But she can’t do it.

She remembers Jay’s eyes, glinting bright and worried in a dim room, as he asks if she’s sure about this; Nya remembers her voice hardening to keep vulnerability from bleeding through as she nods. She’s well aware it’s unwise to keep a secret this heavy, thank you, but they’re both heart-wrenchingly familiar with secrets. What’s one more?

Getting angry at Jay for keeping secrets and then turning around and asking to keep this one … it’s hypocritical. She sees the recognition of the fact in his eyes, but there’s understanding mixed with it; it’s his secret, too. It’s their burden to shoulder behind closed doors, afraid to face their family. After losing Zane and getting him back, after Chen and Garmadon, after Morro, peace feels fraught, like walking a tightrope over another storm. How would the others react to knowing they’d broken again? She doesn’t want to deal with the answer to that question.

So Nya does what she does best. She squares her shoulders and marches through each day, reminding herself with each skip of her heart, each flash of her life before her eyes, each time the world blurs that it’s over now. It spits in the face of every lesson life’s beaten into her bones, reverting to stubbornness and pride and the kind of independence that would rather see her amputate an injured limb than get help for it, but it’s a twisted kind of easier to wrestle her pain in silence. The sky pirates made it clear that she needs to stop being afraid to rely on her team, and with a distant sense of guilt it occurs to her that applies to her emotions about this situation, too, but ...

But that fight’s over. And Nya honestly wants nothing more than to take the lesson to heart and put the rest behind her. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all.

Slight problem with that plan: she’s beginning to get the feeling they don’t want to stay asleep. Nya’s good at compartmentalizing, and has been ever since she was an orphan child balancing school and keeping the forge afloat, but the neat dividers are starting to give.

All she can do is watch as the cracks spider out like the Tiger Widow’s web.

~~~~

Lloyd sits on the edge of the ship’s deck at night, sometimes.

Who knows what he’s thinking. Nya knows her little brother would rather sort through his feelings behind curtains, and they’re all working on helping him open up, but sometimes there’s nothing to do but be there with someone while they watch the world turn.

Tonight, thoughts zipping through her head with manic intensity and no distraction to stop them, she joins him, letting her legs hang over the edge of the Bounty. He acknowledges her with a smile and inches closer, then turns back to face the clouds, eyes searching the scene like there’s a cosmic answer somewhere in the moonlight poking through the blanket of grey. The sky roils in dark, angry sheets, air thick enough to slice with a knife. Nya remembers another storm out at churning sea, splinters from a shipwreck, a missing friend and her bubbling fury in the aftermath, and shudders.

Lloyd doesn’t speak, but he’s gripping a photo of his father with white knuckles and a pinched face. And she understands.

Never once has Lloyd gotten to choose his path. His only crime was wanting Garmadon in his life, and the gift he received in return for it was becoming fated to finish his father off, once, then twice. It’s a painful game, to be destiny’s plaything.

Self-centered as it is, Nya wants to think she gets it. Rarely does she get to choose, either. Being folded into the fate of Ninjago via kidnapping from blacksmith shop had been exciting until she was relegated to damsel in distress and left on the wayside. Then when she’d forged her own path as Samurai X, she had to give it up and be the water ninja instead. Water ninja. Kai’s sister. Jay’s love interest. The girl. Nadakhan’s prize.

Never a thought for what Nya wants to be. Just roles and labels to live up to whether she likes it or not, forced upon her like a wedding dress sewn for someone else.

And the one choice she could make ended up …

Her chest tightens until she’s dizzy.

Once the world sharpens back into focus, Nya casts Lloyd a sympathetic glance and quietly traces the feathery outlines of the clouds with her eyes. It’s a good night for commiserating, and she’s not feeling talkative, either.

She wonders what she is now, and her throat tightens.

~~~~

Nya catches, out of the corner of her eye, the breathless headline on the tabloid lining the rack at the grocery store—“DEVASTATING FACTS ABOUT THE GIRL NINJA!!” —and bites back the urge to scream herself hoarse.

The public eye is an unforgiving one, she knows that, she’s long since resigned herself to it. But sometimes it grates, the way everyone seems to presume they can weigh in on Nya.

The people out there don’t know anything about her. All they care about is that she’s the girl, and there’s drama behind her they can gobble up like starved mutts.

She doesn’t let on about it much, because being imperfect is kind of one of her worst nightmares, but she knows she’s made mistakes in the past. She was prideful, even haughty. She strung Jay and Cole along for way too long because the attention got to her head, and the paparazzi will never let her forget it. Nya should have been the bigger person and cut it short, instead of letting Cole keep going with it because he was mad Jay didn’t trust him, or letting Jay’s jealousy fester as long as it did. Bit late for that, though.

It’s hardly like her faults stop there. Being hunted by Nadakhan and upset by Jay’s refusal to understand her “no” meant no, on top of the fact that her independence would only ever be conditional sinking in from becoming the water ninja … it was a perfect storm of stress, and it made her nasty. Jay keeping secrets and endangering them all was the last straw. She blew up, lashed out, furious that she couldn’t trust anything to go right.

She still regrets it. The bruises on his skin after his rescue are still imprinted on her eyelids when she wakes up, sometimes.

So she’s not perfect, by a long shot. But …

(Greedy eyes following her every movement, wanting her as she runs. Blinking to find another family member gone. Fighting for her life as the pirates capture her. Being wrestled into someone else’s gown. Pushing desperately against Dilara’s spirit snatching away her autonomy. Venom seeping into her gown, frigid then BURNING, the ability to think slipping—)

Nya loosens the death grip she has on her basket. Takes a deep breath in, then out.

They don’t know anything about her. Tabloids and TV hosts and publicists can gossip all they want about Nya’s mistakes; they’ll never convince her she deserved to die for them.

~~~~

Kai is many things, and stupid is definitely one of them, sometimes. But he isn’t stupid when it comes to how Nya’s doing, and she knows this. If anything, she’s the idiot for thinking she could keep herself under wraps from him for long. Kai must have noticed the tough veneer she’s painted over herself, and how secretive she’s being with them, because Kai knows she doesn’t like to be open about feeling unwell, and Nya knows that it worries him.

Ironically enough, that worry is why she knows she can’t ever tell Kai what happened. Ever since she revealed herself as Samurai X, he’d learned not to hover, and Nya’s endlessly grateful that he’s understanding enough to trust in her strength. Nowadays, Kai’s concern manifests in significant glances, questioning hands on her shoulder, hugs a little tighter and lingering longer than normal, discreetly asking if there’s anything she wants to tell him.

He’s taken to all that behavior in hyperdrive, of course, because there is no way Nya’s snippiness and constant tension and nights in the kitchen making tea after nightmares slipped his notice.

But that’s fine. Nya would rather deal with the quiet apprehension radiating off him now than the full-blown panic she’s bound to have on her hands if Kai ever found out that she’d lost her life and he’d been helpless to do anything but watch.

She has an idea what it’ll look like, too. He’d taken Lloyd’s possession hard enough—Nya had caught him pummeling punching bags in the training room until his knuckles bled, noticed the heaviness in his eyes when he looked at their little brother, or at Cole, and no matter how much she insisted that he hadn’t failed, Kai refused to let himself believe it. Uttering a word about the Sky Pirates to her older brother, Kai who had practically raised them both, Kai who had only ever become a ninja to save her, Kai who had blamed himself so ruthlessly for Zane and Lloyd and Cole?

It would break him.

She just can’t do that to him. She’ll stitch her lips shut if that’s what it takes to make sure he never finds out.

So when Kai fixes them both mugs of chamomile tea at 2 in the morning, and casually remarks on the strange amount of repairs she’s been doing on the perfectly intact Bounty, Nya just smiles tiredly at him and fires off some sarcastic retort that’s sure to rile him up.

She loves her older brother, which is why she made the decision to take this secret to her grave.

~~~~

Nya notices while brushing her hair, one day, that she’s neglected to pay attention to it; the sleek black strands are almost to her shoulder, rather than brushing against her chin like she’s used to. Once she’s teased out every last snarl, she goes to cut her hair, but hesitates right before the scissors snip.

When she looks in the mirror, sometimes it’s Dilara’s face flashing before her eyes, not her own. She has to look for the minutiae, the details that count, like the flinty sharpness in her own eyes, the scar near her chin, the odd mark forming on her cheek, obsessively contrasting them to wide, sweet eyes on a deceptively cherubic face.

Nya wishes—no, not wishes, look where wishing had gotten them all—that Nadakhan had cared to see the differences. Maybe that way, she wouldn’t have felt the eyes on her back, always following her, waiting for her to fall into his grasp. Maybe she could have avoided the desperate game of cat-and-mouse. And just maybe, she wouldn’t have been grappled into a suffocating gown, or had her agency ripped from her as Dilara took her face, or died—

Right, that had happened. How Cole and Zane go about their days knowing they’ve walked through the doors of death, she can't begin to fathom. Nya wonders when she’ll stop feeling like she has to hide in her own home from eyes that are no longer watching, wonders when she’ll stop feeling the white-hot burn of venom leaching into her blood, and it’s Dilara’s face that brought it upon her.

Nya sets the scissors down, and tries not to flinch at the way they klink against the counter. She doesn’t want Dilara’s face anymore.

Maybe she’ll let it grow out.

~~~~~

It wasn’t even that rough of a touch, Nya despairs later. Cole, even in spars, always knew his strength, and he barely glanced her sternum with a ghostly hand as she knocked him off balance.

Apparently, on a bad day, that chilly touch was enough to send the phantom shock of Tiger Widow venom racing through her system; Nya forgot how to breathe for a second, and the next she broke her stance and pushed. Already off-kilter, Cole stumbled, his back hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In the instant before the others could be alarmed, they locked eyes, concerned meeting terrified. She forced her voice to stay even as she said, “I think that’s enough training for today.” Then she ran.

Now, here she is, her door slammed shut and locked, and her back’s pressed against it as she tries to remember what it feels like not to buzz like an entire hornet’s nest. She’s fine, she repeats to herself. The mantra is soothing simply in its repetitiveness; it gets her mind off of the sensation that won’t leave her alone ever since she lived it. She’s fine, she’s alive, and she’s not losing her grip on consciousness because all her organs are shutting down. Nya is fine, not actually feeling the venom seep into her skin through the coarse fabric of the wedding dress, cold for just a millisecond before erupting into white-hot pain across her skin. If her vision is off, it’s because of the tears welling up despite her stubborn efforts to blink them away, not the spots that danced across her world as Flintlocke’s fatal accident slowly claimed her life-

Her breath catches in a sob. Nya furiously muffles it behind her hand.

It didn’t even happen. She’s been through so much, she’s been in danger so many times, and this is the one that sticks? So it killed her, yeah, admittedly that’s a big step above the other times, but it hadn’t happened to anyone else except her, and Jay, and she can’t, won’t, make those words leave her lips. Every other problem in her life, she’d risen above, she’d fixed and wrestled back into her control, and then she’d gotten to square her shoulders and quip to the boys how easy it had been.

How does she fix something that’s only broken in her memories?

~~~~~

Nya remembers it all.

She almost wishes she didn’t.

#ninjago #nnq zine #nya ninjago #nya smith #n1njag0 #happy tenth anniversary ninjago #abc writes

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thezodiaczone · 6 years

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November Forecast for Virgo

Here, there and everywhere! With the Sun in Scorpio and your social third house, you’re a multitasking maven and a whirling dervish of energy. Your calendar will be packed to the seams with events, meetings, parties and more. Vibrant conversations are what you live for, Virgo, and you can expect to have plenty of them this month. At the November 7 Scorpio new moon, one of those talks could plant the seeds for an exciting collaboration in the coming weeks, so keep your antennae up for kindred spirits today!

You’ll be glad to have a supportive, like-minded crew since this month’s cosmic activity is (once again) intense. Three planets will go in and out of retrograde while two make major zodiac sign changes. It will be hard to know where to put your energy because as soon as you move in one direction, the whole game changes. Good thing you’re one of the zodiac’s four “mutable” signs, which means you’re adaptable and open to change—in spite of Virgo’s reputation as being the consummate planner.

It all begins on November 6, when revolutionizer Uranus, who’s been retrograde since August 7, backs into Aries and your intimate eighth house for a four-month last hurrah. Uranus was in Aries from March 2011 to May 2018, bringing radical shifts to your finances and emotional and sexual affairs. You may have experienced some sweeping, if not seismic, shifts in these areas with disruptor Uranus shaking up the status quo.

Mid-May, Uranus moved into Taurus and your worldly, adventurous ninth house—a much easier placement that’s sparked up nomadic and entrepreneurial urges. But you’ll need to press pause and handle some unfinished “inner work” until March 6. After that, Uranus will leave Aries, not to return in this lifetime. Since the eighth house rules property and shared assets, some Virgos may finalize a divorce or “business breakup,” sell a home or sit down with a financial planner for a rigorous review. While the Uranian fluctuations aren’t comfortable, know that any last wobbles are designed to make sure you’re investing your time, money and energy in things that are authentically you.

The headline news arrives on November 8, when expansive Jupiter makes its once-a-year zodiac sign change, settling into Sagittarius and your domestic fourth house until December 2, 2019. Ready to put down some roots or add a new member to your household? With abundant Jupiter here, your adventures for the next year will be happening close to home…if not under your own roof! You could buy a home, move to a bigger place or turn your current abode into a bustling hub for inspiring guests, salon-style gatherings or maybe even rental income.

You’ve been quite the drifter for the past 13 months, because since October 2017, Jupiter’s been cruising through Scorpio and your third house of neighborhoods and community. This has sparked some exciting friendships and, if you’re looking for a place to settle, introduced you to some fun new cities or districts worth considering. But it’s been nearly impossible to “weigh anchor” for many Virgos. The very nature of the third house is to crave variety, and with globetrotting Jupiter here, you’ve had a veritable buffet of options and ideas. But a lot of them have probably fizzled out or just didn’t move from talk to action.

Are you feeling a little overwhelmed by it all? Good news: Jupiter’s move will help you snap out of “analysis paralysis” and shift into a more serene state. With the red-spotted giant in your security-seeking fourth house, the next 13 months are all about planting deep roots instead of just breezing through town. You could get deeply interested in your ancestry or, since Jupiter rules travel and study, take a field trip to a place connected to your heritage, documenting it for posterity.

Supersizer Jupiter is also shifting from your intellectual third house to your emotional fourth house, getting you out of your head and into your heart. You can anticipate some expansive feelings in the coming year as well as plenty of opportunities to connect with your intuition and creativity. Warning: Your moods can swing from high to low at moments, so make time for sufficient self-care and support.

The fourth house rules women, children and nurturing in astrology and, without resorting to gender stereotypes, this “yin” energy could become a big part of your world. An inspiring woman or female-identified person might play a huge role in your personal growth. This could be a healing year with your mom or a mother figure, though you may go through a couple of painful moments as you evolve your bond or reach for a new level of honesty. At the end of it all, you’ll feel a deep sense of inner connection—and as an anxiety-prone Virgo, you can’t go wrong when you “know thyself” and feel at home in the wider world.

But moving from nomad to nester won’t be an instantly easy process because from November 16 to December 6, your celestial ruler, Mercury—the planet of communication, technology and travel—will turn retrograde, spending the bulk of its backspin in Sagittarius. Think twice before offering the pull-out sofa bed to relatives over the early holiday season, and read every customer review before renting a hotel or Airbnb. Watch for misunderstandings with relatives and roommates, and be sure to safety-proof your home electronics and appliances. Load up on the surge protectors and back up all your personal files, especially digital photos.

On the upside, harmonious Venus will end a six-week retrograde on November 16, which has disrupted friendships and romance for everyone since October 5. The planetary peacekeeper has been backing through Libra and your money house since October 31, so the first couple weeks of the month could raise tension with colleagues and clients or drive up money stress.

Whew! Home is a haven AND a hotbed this month, that’s for sure. On November 22, the Sun begins its monthlong visit through Sagittarius and your cozy fourth house, joining Jupiter and Mercury. Now you’re ready to start hanging the holiday decorations, piping your painstakingly curated seasonal playlists through wireless speakers and just pausing.

But one specific day must be reserved for stepping into “power broker” mode. On November 23, the year’s only Gemini full moon beams into your tenth house of ambition and success, and you won’t want to squander this moment. Everything you’ve been working toward professionally for the past six months could reach a turning point or major manifestation moment. Some Virgos might step into a leadership role, land a new gig or score a promotion. For business owners, this is also Black Friday, and your sales numbers could get a lunar-powered lift. Ready to switch paths? This transitional full moon could give you the courage to leave an unsatisfying gig for a new one.

Make sure you’re polished, prepared and positioned to put your best foot forward today. Even if you’re just attending a gathering, you never know who you’ll meet. The tenth house rules fathers and men, so if you’re celebrating Thanksgiving weekend, you could have a huge air-clearing conversation with an important guy in your life.

For so many people, family gatherings have turned into polarizing political meltdowns for the past couple years. With a full moon in fast-talking Gemini, the stage is set for another round of that. So if you don’t want to “go there” (and we recommend you don’t), set some clear ground rules with your clan and be rigorous about respecting them!

If you’ve been struggling to get a clear read on a relationship, that will get easier starting November 24, when hazy Neptune ends a five-month retrograde backspin in Pisces and your seventh house of partnerships. Since June 18, it’s been tough to assess anyone’s intentions or figure out which direction to take an important alliance in. With empathic Neptune retrograde, your usually spot-on intuition about people might not have been a reliable GPS. Now Neptune’s forward motion helps you reconnect, heal any rifts and get back in sync with your inner circle.

The best day for bonding arrives on November 26, when the Sun and Jupiter make their once-a-year meetup, joining forces in Sagittarius and your caring fourth house. Hello, heart-opening moments! Many astrologers consider this the luckiest day of the year: when the revitalizing Sun and auspicious Jupiter blend their superpowers. If you’ve been hoping to move, expand your family or get in some quality “me time,” book it today, while your heart is open wide and you’re at your most emotionally receptive. Awww!

Love & Romance

Sense and sensuality? The love planets, Venus and Mars, are spending time in the most analytical and practical parts of your chart. Romantic Venus is camped out in Libra and your security-seeking second house, and it’s retrograde here until November 16, making you especially reflective and ready to do any needed repair work. Meantime, Mars is wrapping up a tour of Aquarius that began back on September 10, and will heat up your detail-minded sixth house until November 15.

While Venus retrograde can be a little dicey—people tend to be snippy and oversensitive…and not particularly compassionate or kind—you’ll be able to step back from your emotions and view things from a more grounded place. This is especially true on November 9, when Venus and Mars make their third of 2018’s three harmonious trines. If you need to talk about money or other mundane matters with your mate, these “administrative” conversations can actually bring you closer together. And hey, Virgo, what’s hotter than an innovative person who can life-hack and plan like a pro? To you, that’s sexiness personified!

Relationships heat up—and speed up—starting November 15, when sizzling Mars moves into Pisces and your partnership house for the rest of the year. Things could get hot over the holidays, but with combative Mars here, tension can also flare. Single Virgos might feel pressure to pair up during this sentimental season, but don’t let that cloud your vision. Take your time to make sure someone is long-term material before rushing into anything serious. For couples, be careful not to take out your stress on each other.

Key Dates

November 30: Venus-Uranus Opposition Love is a journey, not a movie whose script is already written. Stay open to the surprises that come from being intimately involved with another person. And don’t try to hide your vulnerable, messy side. It’s what keeps your partnership authentic and your loving bond alive.

Money & Career

Keep a handle on those funds! From November 6, 2018, to March 6, 2019, impulsive Uranus will be retrograde in Aries and your eighth house of long-term finances and investments. This final hurrah through your merging sector could make you second-guess a partnership, especially if it’s started to be a little confining. Do you feel like your voice is being heard and respected enough? Can you really grow in this venture? You might get an out-of-the-blue expense—but you could also score an unexpected windfall. This could be one of those times that you tap into your rainy-day savings or free yourself of any possessions and expenses that have been weighing you down.

Your stress levels may need some managing during the first half of the month since anxious Mars is in Aquarius and your sixth house of administrative affairs. You might feel overwhelmed by a project and need a few extra hands to meet a deadline. Don’t try to push through and DIY—send out a call for help. With Mercury turning retrograde from November 16 to December 3, you’ll want to make sure you have the proper support before things get chaotic.

On November 15, Mars will move into Pisces and your partnership house for the rest of the year, which could bring some dynamic people into your orbit. An exciting contract or offer might come your way. But with rash Mars here, you’ll want to take your time. Don’t rush into anything without conducting due diligence, but if everything checks out, then take a leap of faith.

Key Dates

November 23: Gemini Full Moon This activating full moon in your professional tenth house helps you pursue your career ambitions without fear. With la luna in spontaneous Gemini, you may get a wild hair to quit your job or leave your field altogether and try something brand spanking new. At your current gig, corporate restructuring or rebranding could present you with a brilliant opportunity to advance. Seize it!

Love Days: 16, 20 Money Days: 27, 8 Luck Days: 24, 29 Off Days: 23, 31, 18

#virgo #monthly horoscope #horoscope #horoscopes #astrology #virgo monthly

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lindoig1 · 6 years

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For some reason, my title didn’t appear. It was supposed to say ‘The end of the line for this time!’

Thursday Day 99

We started our Big Red Bus tour and completed the Red line in the morning. It was a big loop around the city and the commentary was excellent. It took a bit over two hours and we got off at the second last stop so we could have lunch in Temple Bar – the food and entertainment area in the centre of the city. (We decided not to take the bus to the last stop because that was right near our hotel – but we did that later in the day.)

We used the bus trip to orient ourselves a bit and to prompt us as to the best places to go back to. We had lunch in Boxty using a 2-for-1 deal for Red Bus ticketholders and then walked to Trinity College a few hundred metres away. Heather was interested in seeing it and it was quite interesting. She couldn’t see all the things she wanted to, but apart from soaking up a bit of campus atmosphere, we saw a really fascinating display in the Geography Department. It was mainly about the geology of the area but had several related topics, including palaeontology, most interesting. I wanted to have a look at Merrion Square, described on the bus as an area scrupulously preserved in its original Georgian condition – but I was disappointed. I am not sure that there would have been a kids fun park in Georgian times, but it was mainly trees and lawns with lots of people having picnics. I saw a few birds – and perhaps the biggest rattus rattus I have ever seen – just a bit smaller than a kangaroo. It was stalking some song thrushes, but it never caught them while I was watching.

We then hopped back on the Blue line bus to take us back to our hotel, traversing much of the same route we took on the Red line – at least the second half of it. Unfortunately, the commentary on that was really poor, often contradicting the commentary we heard in the morning. The guy identified the Irish Bank headquarters as the Houses of Parliament and when we got off, I mentioned it to him and he got a bit snaky, claiming to have said the building was the original Houses of Parliament, something I still don’t quite believe.

Back at our hotel, we went across the road and bought a pizza for dinner – claimed to be the best pizzas in Ireland. If so, some of the rest of Ireland’s pizzas must be pretty ordinary, but it was the first pizza we had eaten for at least 4 months so we didn’t complain too much.

Friday – Day 100

Day 100 – a milestone, but our last day before heading for home.

We headed out to catch the Blue line on the Big Red Bus, but had to wait a while so went into the nearby Writers Museum for a while. It was starting to rain, but we were interested in the Museum anyway. It was pretty expensive and we felt we didn’t have time to do it justice anyway so we just had a long discussion with the woman on the desk instead. Ireland has many famous authors and poets and the Museum honours quite a lot of them. It hopes to double in size over the next year so if we ever go back, we might invest in the new bigger and better museum, but not this time.

We caught the Blue line and the first half of the tour went to quite different places than the Red line. It started with the cemetery and a surprising number of people alighted to tour the grounds, visiting the final resting places of many of the more famous residents. We didn’t and went on through some of the older residential areas and past their main stadium, stated in the commentary to be the third largest in the world. (It isn’t, even the MCG which is rated 10th is twice its size!)

We got off the bus in the centre of the city and had lunch at Madigans, a pub in O’Connell Street. Back on the Red line to take us to their Dead Zoo – the natural history/animal museum where we spent an hour or so on the ground floor looking at Irish flora and fauna. It had a large display of birds, but I though most were poorly curated and didn’t look much like the ones we saw in our real life travels. There was another floor upstairs that I had a very quick walk through while Heather rested her sore foot. I only spent 10 minutes there but noted that Aussie animals appeared to be well over-represented – a fairly comprehensive selection compared with specimens from other areas of the world.

We had intended going to another archaeological museum next door, but we were just too tired so went back to the river where we had our drink yesterday – and did it all again. We then had a VERY long wait for the next bus to take us back to our hotel. They advertise a 15 minute service, but we waited 40 minutes and when we mentioned this to the driver, he got a bit snippy and said it was a 30 minute service. There were numerous other misrepresentations in their advertising about live v recorded commentary, multi-lingual access and do on so I eventually emailed the company and drew attention to the discrepancies. I haven’t heard back from them, but given that the Irish service is managed from Denver in the US, it is not surprising.

Back in the hotel, we did our final packing to come home and ate dinner in the hotel.

Saturday/Sunday Days 101 and 102 – the trip home

Up early to get our 8:30 cab to the airport and check in. We had decided to come home on Premium Economy tickets and that proved a good decision. We were able to jump the queue and had a lot more legroom and perhaps better cabin service. I have always liked Cathay Pacific and this was no different. I found the configuration of the seat a bit uncomfortable on the first leg to Hong Kong, but once we deciphered how the controls worked, it was better. We were treated royally on the flight and had a couple of hours to kill in Hong Kong before boarding the other leg for home. Hong Kong is a huge airport and we had some trouble finding out way around. We had to catch the train to another terminal to go through yet another security check and then a train back to the gate where we caught the plane home. There was another detailed check where we had to open and display all our carry-on stuff in the airbridge before boarding but it was then all go to get home. Again, being Premium Economy passengers, we had no queues at Immigration and were soon awaiting our baggage and heading out through Customs to meet our driver to bring us home. We had picked up 14 hours on the way home and it was a little after midnight here when we got home – a very welcome sight despite some serious jetlag.

I may post some pics and some overall impressions at a later date, but we are still assimilating some of our experiences and have hit the ground running with lots of things to do at home. Already planning our next big excursion for about this time next year so summarising any key impressions from this trip may need to wait for a couple more weeks.

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autodiscothings · 7 years

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LI Asks

Wanted to do this without being asked, so did it! For my Surly Boy and his Socialite, since I need to get a handle on them before they turn into angst muffins. I know some who follow are interested in the “ship” side of things, so I’ll share here too. Tiny bit spoilerish.

For the couple:

1. What drew your character to their LI and vice versa?

They were both bystanders standing in the shadows of literal heroes, and had a shared secret history neither could talk about before without the other person completely understanding everything.

2. What was the first moment that they knew they were in love with their LI?

Kolyat fell in love first believe it or not. She was talking about genetics and how they mean shit, that nurture rules over nature; he stopped seeing the alien and saw the person. That, and her butt looked nice in her wiggle dress.

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it?

Avoid the other and distant themselves. Distract with work.

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

He likes her eyes and her thighs and her voice. The Lawson genetically perfect booty is top tier too, obviously.

She likes his shoulders and his scales and yes, that chin. His eyes amuse her now, whereas before they unnerved.

5. How do they comfort each other when they are sad?

Ori is more demonstrative with affection and touching. Kolyat likes it to a point. He’ll make her tea and leaves it next to her, and will hold her hand awkwardly and try to talk through her problems like it’s a case to solve.

6. Who is the big spoon?

Oriana. Kolyat doesn’t like hair in his face when he’s hugging her.

7. Favorite date activity?

The only thing they can tolerate together is ballet (of all things) and vids. Food is tricky; Kolyat is a man who will eat over the sink if he has to, but likes to indulge in fried trash which Oriana is okay with.

She has dragged him to fancy sushi joints, to which he secretly enjoyed but bitched about the money. “400 credits for three pieces? Honestly Oriana, that’s my entire food budget for the month.”

8. What are their most prominent memories of each other?

It’s the same:

“I’ll remember her looking over her shoulder at me, always one step ahead. She is always smiling, always.”

“He was scowling at other passengers, waiting for me at the docks. And when he saw me he smiled. I laughed at the time, couldn’t help it. He asked me what was funny, and was annoyed I couldn’t explain why.”

9. How open are they with their feelings?

They’re getting better but Kolyat is still a bottler. Oriana gets upset to the point of tears and is angry that she’s crying, but wants to explain why she’s upset in precise words.

10. Do they have pet names for each other?

‘Ori’ is a nonsense syllable word in Kolyat’s mothertongue, so he has plenty. Oriden. Ma’tori. Tunorien. Orishen is his favourite- it means fish dumpling. White, wobbly balls usually eaten on sticks. He pats her tits and calls them that. (Such a romantic.)

He’s just Kol to her. If she’s being snippy he gets called “darling” or “sweetheart.”

11. Do they have any inside jokes?

Plenty. Fish the Cat has an entire backstory written by them both, where she helps solve crime as a caped crusader, and is in fact Blasto’s secret love child.

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

No. And this is what worries me as their writer. Oriana is getting fed up of Citadel life and probably will only last a few more years before she wants to see stars in the sky and breathe in fresh air. Kolyat loves his damn Ward and job too much.

13. How do they react at being away from each other?

He misses her terribly and will say this to her, but usually in an inept way. She’s never far from his thoughts; in Disconnect he uses memories of Oriana as mental treats to get him through the day.

She will sleep in an old shirt of his, and send him more emails than usual.

14. Is their anything they associate with each other?

Kolyat on Ori: music, violins, make up, tea, tulips, expensive shoes, piles of mess. Pale skinned humans will sometimes trigger a memory. Blue skies.

Oriana on Kol: cats, trivia vids, C-Sec, smell of leather, smell of his scale cleaner.

15. How do they think each other sees the other, and is this different from their own view of themselves?

Oriana understands C-Sec is important, but thinks he’s more than just a cop. Kolyat can see through the smiling “darling-” air kiss “-thank you for coming your donation is so important” falsities Oriana puts on.

16. Jealous at all?

Oddly, no. Kolyat knows Oriana can handle herself and will come back to him. In fact you know what? He finds it hilarious when humans are disgusted he’s with her; he’s happy to lean against the bar and have the place watch her saunter.

On the other hand Oriana’s had worse experiences with jealousy from others, which Kolyat feels a bit guilty over. Aliens with drell have a certain wild child “party” reputation thanks to the after effects of venom, especially humans.

Drell in general don’t think too kindly to those dating outside their own kind- something you do in your youth, but you best settle down with your own sort young man, and soon. There’s only half a million of us, you know.

17. Their ways of expressing their love.

Kolyat is practical, but he will buy the occasional “saw this thought of you” gift. Oriana’s is also gift based, but she is more quick to tell him she loves him.

18. Is their any way they disappoint each other?

His bottling of emotions. Choosing work over her. Oriana’s occasional slip into rich girl privilege annoys him- money can’t solve everything, and not every problem can be patched over.

19. Describe how they communicate

Badly. Better in person than in email/vid form, though. There are no distractions facing each other.

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

Yes. Both are less selfish.

For the creator

21. Personally, do you think they are a good couple?

Yes and no. He loves her, but he also loves work. She loves him, but also wants a life off the Citadel.

She’s also human- Oriana will live longer than him, probably twice as long thanks to her fancy genetics. They’re both in their 20s now, but are approaching four years together; the subject of building a life somewhere has to come up soon.

22. From the outside looking in, what is their dynamic like?

Oriana is straight up told by Kolyat’s friends (aka his work colleagues) regularly how in the universe did he end up with her, he is punching well above his weight there. Oriana’s friends see the devotion Kolyat has, but find him odd; he’ll drop by her office for lunch sometimes, but he’s seen as polite but distant.

23. Did you tailor your OC for the other in the romance?

Nah it just kind of happened. I based my Oriana on 50s Hollywood glamour icons, where dames were feisty and their lipstick never smeared. I’m still not sure how that happened, let’s blame the detective noir feel of Disconnect.

24. Is their any moment that happens between them that you know happens and just makes you melt?

He holds her and hums ‘you are my sunshine’ sometimes. She has a little creepy musicbox on her shelf that plays it, and one day Kol touches it- it plays, Oriana breaks down, explaining the significance of sunshine (Oriana means golden dawn.) So he hums it to her -albeit badly- when she’s feeling sad.

25. Share any headcanons about their relationship.

Since I know someone is probably thinking it: yes they do and often, (oh hi Mark) and neither will go beyond the silk tie stage of kink. Kolyat’s venom is countered with meds, though at this point Oriana is immune thanks to good ol’ human adaptability and self-induced Mithridatism.

She’ll still get the occasional mild rash, usually on her chest. Gone after a hot shower and expensive cream she had made (because the pharmacy one smelt disgusting.)

26. How important is the romance in your their overall story?

It’s Kolyat’s first real relationship and the first woman he loved outside of his mother- so very. It’s Oriana’s first ‘proper’ boyfriend too, the one where she is considering getting a place with.

Essentially both are that First Serious Relationship most people have in their 20s, the first person you live with, etc.

27. What makes you excited about their relationship?

Seeing what I can throw at them and how far they can bend. Looking forward to writing them in the same room at some point, rather than memories.

28. Is their any similarities to your character’s relationship to one you have had IRL?

Kolyat’s somewhat practical approach to romance is from my Swedish beau. “Do you really want a Christmas present? If we wait until the sales I can get you something bigger.”

How they met I based on a girl I fell in love with in my 20s. The first day we met we walked all from Waterloo to Shoreditch, just talking.

29. What are your favorite moments that happen between them?

How they met, which I know and you don’t.

30. How does their love change as they get older?

My mind goes … when I plan their relationship beyond three years of where they are now, so who knows.

31. Share anything you would like about the couple

I want them to stay together, but unsure if they will.

…christ this is depressing. I should go do Dixon/Cam now to cheer myself up.

#Kolyat Krios #asks and prompts #oriana Lawson #Disconnect

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chwrpg · 8 years

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GENEVIEVE YOUNG. college senior; twenty one. leyna bloom. TAKEN.

and, as gina once said:

"Well, Sinead O'Rebellion. Shock me, shock me, shock me with that deviant behavior."

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Genevieve didn't have it terribly hard growing up, truth be told. Sure, she didn't have a dad, but she didn't really have time to miss him. She had the vaguest memories of him, and of a sibling, but they were gone now, and that was all there was to it. Her mother was certainly overcompensating, trying her absolute best to play both roles in her life. It never seemed like enough for Genevieve, though she never tried to show such a hard front; there was just so much going on inside of her head that she never quite found the time to thank her mother for being so present. In fact, she felt suffocated, and then felt guilty for it.

Regardless, her mother got the idea that she wouldn't acclimate well to dealing with other kids on a daily basis, so she went for another superhero move - getting trained to homeschool her. Genevieve was never the best student, but she tried hard, though her head was cloudy with a truth she didn't necessarily understand at such a young age. Perhaps it was best that she and her mother had time to become thick as thieves. It made it that much easier for her to go along with what Genevieve knew all along when the truth came out.

She had always looked at her mother as if she were the center of the universe, but part of that was because she held something inside her that Genevieve knew was in her too — it was just that no one else could see it. In the middle of an algebra lesson, she blurted it out, and the tightness in her chest alleviated. "I'm not a boy." Finally, someone else knew. And someone could help. She couldn't be what she'd been born into anymore.

To her mother's credit, she didn't fight it. In some roundabout way, she said that deep down she knew all along. By the time everything was said and done and Genevieve was who she wanted to be, she had one more request. One that her mother didn't take to as kindly. She wanted to go out and see the world. She wanted to go to high school, with other kids her age, and fit in. Now that she felt comfortable in her skin, there was nothing holding her back.

"They'll be mean," her mother warned her. "Meaner than you can ever imagine."

Genevieve only smiled, a phoenix having risen within her. "Who said they had to know?"

When Rosewood Academy enrolled Genevieve Young, she came with no past and no pretense. She was charismatic and gregarious. She was well liked. She was on the cheerleading squad. She was lovely. If there was anything she had been desperate for, it was friends. And once she had friends — Cassandra, who had a pearl necklace wound so tightly around her neck, and the rest of the TRAX gang, with whom she shared her husky, sultry voice as she danced about the store aisles — she wanted something else. She wanted to feel special, validated.

There are tales varying as to how Genevieve became the Rosewood Academy bicycle, but they all pretty much end the same — everyone wants her, so everyone takes a turn. She was no siren by any means, but she was beautiful, and she was comforted by the fact that other people knew it. It was then that her adolescence made its biggest sacrifice — her relationship with her mother. Her mother had always understood who Genevieve had been, but now, she was an intangible concept. A mystery. Someone who sought the attention of others at any cost. As if sex took her soul.

To Genevieve, that couldn't have been further from the truth. Sex gave her everything — her confidence, and her drive. Cassandra turned her nose up to it as time went by, and the jokes from the others came. They were light-hearted, sure, but she'd never felt so judged. All she had gotten was the chance to be happy, and they were all ruining it. Cassandra called her names, got snippy. Leland ruffled her hair, having been around the block with her once or twice, and just resumed their cycle whenever they both came around to it — he called it par for the course, assuming she thought little of it because that's what you tell everyone, right? Adrian and Malcolm were mostly quiet, but their brows etched in concern from time to time.

She was a good person, she knew. She just liked being wanted. What was wrong with that? Cassandra was judging her so harshly, but Genevieve was a careful watcher, and she knew she had her own trouble to deal with — something bigger than anything Genevieve had ever gotten trapped in.

As angry as she was, she knew she had to intervene. She had to fix it. So she told, and she shattered the pretty little picture Cassandra had painted of herself for everyone else to see. Anyone else would have thought her vindictive, but Genevieve honestly believed that it was out of whatever love she had left for Cassandra, regardless of how she had treated her.

As soon as she had the opportunity to consider how much Cassandra would hate her, crucify her — there was a new problem. Dove — angry, insular Dove — who Genevieve did not recognize when she met her. Dove, and her father — who she did remember. Dove, who had been her brother. She'd blurted out that fact rather inelegantly, and so the crash landing began. She had her own maze to get through now.

DURING THE PARTY;

She hated Dove, she was sure. She made it a point not to hate anyone, but how could she not hate her sister? The girl was all dark and twisty and, well, hateful right back.

The time spent under their roof together was laced with pure paranoia for Gen, who was convinced that Dove was going to spill the truth about her at any moment. There was no way such a snappy girl would keep such a huge secret to herself, she was sure. So she threatened to tell her friends — her friends, not Dove's, no matter how much she weaseled her way into the group — about her in return.

But Dove left to do it herself. And left Gen in a huff, because she knew her sister wasn't bluffing.

Fuck the party, she thought. She wasn't in the party mood anymore. One fact flashed in her mind — today, Cass would be back from rehab. She could cool down — think about some other drama — and visit.

So she did. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and Gen said next to nothing — save for the hope that she would turn out okay — but Cass was in one piece and seemingly calmed down. She seemed different.

There was so much brokenness between them. Gen wasn't entirely sure that could be swept under the rug. But she needed something to work out now that she was on such a rocky precipice.

She needed Cass. The old Cass.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#roleplay #rp #rpg #bio rp #empire records #genevieve young #gina #transphobia cw #takenf #leyna bloom

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fireflyfish · 6 years

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Somewhere between sleep and waking, Ahsoka and the 501st swept across the flat, dusty plain toward the small cluster of Republic tanks where Master Obi-Wan and Ghost Company were trying to hold off another wave of Separatist attacks.

As they charged across the plain, Ahsoka could feel Obi-Wan’s fear and anxiety, distant but there in the back of her mind. She wondered what would be waiting for her and Torrent Company when they made it to the circle of AAT’s huddled together protectively against the onslaught.

Please don’t let us be too late. I’m coming, Obi-Wan. Just hold on a little longer!

Ahsoka had almost forgotten how chaotic and disorienting a full scale battle could be. High-pitched blaster fire screamed through her montrals in a painful staccato pattern. The low, bass hum of cannons shook the air before their recoil shivered through the ground.

Shouting out commands with a confidence she could barely remember having, Ahsoka led the 501st forward, sending Fives and Echo off with Rancor and Wampa Companies to flank Point Rain, while Rex would bring up the rear with the rest of Torrent Company.

In her mind’s eye Ahsoka pictured the battle on a map, the blue wave of her master’s legion pushing back the wash of Separatist red from the small dot of Master Obi-Wan’s 212th battalion. Overhead, fashionably late, Squad Seven flew past them, taking out the distant sandstone pillars and choking off the Geonosian assault.

“Towers are down! I repeat, towers are down!” Oddball radioed, his voice triumphant over the com. “Give ‘em hell, Master Tano!”

#Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #obi wan kenobi #Captain Rex #T&K! Qui-Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Mace Windu #Master Yoda #Bigger than life and twice as Snippy #Someone you don't want to mess with #I PROMISE CHAPTER 40 IS COMING TOMORROW.#I SWEAR #Chapter 40 is going to be called #The Burning Man Who Does Not Die #Please enjoy this penultimate chapter!#*runs away to hide*

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fireflyfish · 6 years

Note

for the director's cut: T&K the Ahsoka vs The Glacier show down?

Hello Nony! How’s your Sunday treating you? Thanks for stopping by and asking a question!

So... the Duel for Obi-Wan Kenobi a.k.a. That Thing Qui-Gon Really Needs to Talk to a Therapist About.

I listened to Duel of the Fates and Battle of the Heroes SOOOO MUCH as I was writing that scene. SOOO MUCH. I think I’m still kind of burnt out on those songs. I try to find songs that put me in the right mood or songs that spark the image I need to start writing and so I figured, why mess with a good thing? I also listened to Hope from the Rogue One soundtrack too. I needed all the help from the lightsaber gods I could get. XD

I didn’t start Tano and Kenobi out with the intention of contrasting Ahsoka and Qui-Gon but try as I might, the plot and his own actions demanded that he take more of a central position that I intended. I really intended for him to just vanish into the background, no doubt dying heroically in a mission in a throwaway sentence later.

Sadly, Qui-Gon refused to do what I told him to and now he’s waxing poetic about how put-upon he is and having visions of his impending doom and interpreting them incorrectly. THE RED AND BLACK MAN IS BAD QUI-GON. HAVING VISIONS OF HIM IS NOT A THING TO BE HAPPY ABOUT.

As for the duel itself, I wanted to make sure I didn’t shortchange either duelist and I was torn over who would really win. On one hand, Ahsoka’s younger, probably faster and certainly more creative in her combat style. She’s been trained by Yoda, Anakin and Obi-Wan and she’s also been on her own for a long time. The novelty of her fighting style should throw Qui-Gon for a loop and Anakin and Obi-Wan were no slouches in the training department.

On the other hand, while Qui-Gon is older and a bit slower than Ahsoka, Qui-Gon is HUGE and it’s the sheer size of him gives him an advantage in strength, reach and the absolute surprise of seeing a giant of a man flipping around with help from the Force. He’s probably at the height of his skill and prowess and it’s been a long time since Ahsoka has had to face someone who’s a true master of lightsaber combat.

But the thing I really wanted to show was that Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are already a team. Even if it’s Ahsoka doing the fighting, Obi-Wan has her back. They want to be together. Mace and Yoda want them to be together. The Force wants them to be together. It isn’t so much that Ahsoka beat Qui-Gon as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan beat Qui-Gon because without Obi-Wan pointing out the forgotten saber on the edge of the dueling ground, Ahsoka wasn’t going to last much longer.

So that’s my commentary track for Ahsoka and Qui-Gon duel in Season One. Thank you for visiting Nony!

From this Ask Meme | Ask Auntie Fishy

#Tano and Kenobi #Ask Auntie Fishy #Tano and Kenobi FAQ #Ahsoka Tano #Qui-Gon Jinn #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #The Most Problematic Glacier in the Galaxy #Anonymous

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fireflyfish · 6 years

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Somewhere between waking and sleep, Ahsoka and Torrent Company were making their way through a ravine that promised to lead them out onto the flat plains that surrounded Point Rain. As she recalled, her masters and Ki-Adi-Mundi had chosen the location for a rendevouz spot precisely because it was a large and open space which would make landing their ships and massing their troops easier.

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea that left Master Obi-Wan and the 212 exposed to take the full brunt of the Geonosian forces for hours.

The losses to Ghost Company alone were catastrophic.

But then again, the plan probably would have worked if they hadn’t told Chancellor Sith Lord about it beforehand.

“I really hate that guy,” Ahsoka muttered to herself as she and Rex waited for Echo and Fives to return from scouting. “I just… really want to punch him in the face.”

“Spoken like Skywalker’s padawan,” Rex chuckled, checking the charge on his twin blasters before spinning them around his fingers and slotting them neatly into their holsters. “You might have to wait in line, sir. I’m sure General Kenobi will want first dibs.”

#Tano and Kenobi #obi wan kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #captain Rex #qui-gon jinn #ct-7567 #ct-5555 #ct-echo #Someone you don't want to mess with #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #The Most Problematic Glacier in the Galaxy #we said we’d all go down together #I just want you all to know that I cried like a dozen times trying to write this damn chapter #And then spent the rest face palming at SOMEONE'S stupidity and arrogance #Also I wrote somewhere in the notes of this chapter #*Mama Shaak Ti did not come to play*

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fireflyfish · 7 years

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Obi-Wan woke as he went to bed, cold and alone.

The suite of rooms he shared with Ahsoka was still and silent. There was no warmth or life coming from the other side of the central living area, no cheerful “Good Morning!” to start his day with a smile.

When he woke up, there was no pot of hot water waiting for his tea, no Ahsoka sitting at the table scanning through one of her datapads, wordlessly pushing the honeypot toward her padawan as she nursed her own mug of tea, the two of them waiting to wake up.

There was just silence and the cool grey light of early morning, turning the shadows indigo and remote.

Obi-Wan quietly walked over to the sink and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the hot plate. He opened the cabinet overhead and pulled out a mug. Slowly, robotically, he went about his usual morning routine. A quick hop into the shower and then changing into his habit and boots before returning to the kitchen, where the kettle should have been just about to ready to let out a hiss of warning but wasn’t.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Obi-Wan looked down at the on switch and realized he had forgotten to turn on the heating element.

“Well, that’s karking perfect,” Obi-Wan muttered and left the kettle on the plate, deciding to forgo his morning tea. He walked over to the small table tucked up against the window that overlooked the Senate and collapsed into his seat, frowning at the honeypot.

“Obi-Wan would like his tea with one small spoonful of honey.”

“How did you know that, Master?” Obi-Wan asked the honeypot, a garishly colored item Ahsoka had picked out for him during a field trip to Corellia because it was decorated in tropical fruits, most noticeably mangos.

#Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #obi wan kenobi #plo koon #qui-gon jinn #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #someone you don't want to mess with #Everyone's Favorite Foster Space Dad #the most problematic glacier in the galaxy #Please direct all screaming to Qui-Gon Jinn at www.wtfqui-gon.com

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fireflyfish · 6 years

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Maerai Prime, fifteen days ago…

There wasn’t a great deal to recommend Maerai Prime to the casual traveller or citizen of the Galactic Republic. It was a cold, rocky planet with a salt water ocean and a thin band along the equator of the planet that marked the “habitable” zone. This belt of civilization had been developed over and over again, not unlike the surface of Coruscant or Denon and the silvery grey stripe across the planet glittered like fabric embroidered with light. The rest of the planet was covered in either monumental glaciers or jagged mountains, thrusting up through the crust of the planet like the spines on the back of a ridgeback, menacing and unfriendly.

“Why can’t we ever go to nice planets full of green trees and lakes?” Obi-Wan groaned, turning to look at Ahsoka with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Naboo was nice. Can we go back to Naboo?”

Ahsoka quirked a smile at Obi-Wan, thinking, Oh we’ll be there soon enough, Padawan mine. You, me, and a Sith Lord named Maul.

“Naboo is peaceful,” Ahsoka said instead, running through final diagnostics before their descent into the planet’s atmosphere. “And Jedi don’t get sent to peaceful planets.”

#Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #obi wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #Someone you don't want to mess with #The Most Problematic Glacier in the Galaxy #It's done guys #i'm so tired #I think I'm heading to bed #And now you know what happened

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fireflyfish · 7 years

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With ahsoka pratically confirmed to be the new Daughter after the last trailer showing Mortis and the convor, are you going to bring up her conection with Ashla in Tano and Kenobi? If you don't mind me asking of course.

That is a good question. And I never mind people asking me questions! I love talking about Star Wars and I’m just thrilled to pieces that other people want to talk to me about my stories. That’s why I write, why I want to be a full-time author one day. I want to tell stories that people love, that give everyone some temporary relief from reality.

My inbox is always open! I can’t promise I will answer them all because I am awkward, introverted and have a full time job but I will read them and squeal over them.

But to answer your question, since that’s why you came here and not to listen to me babble on about my inbox, will Tano and Kenobi cover Ahsoka’s connection to the Daughter?

As far as Tano and Kenobi is concerned, while Ahsoka is connected to the Daughter, she is not the Daughter reborn. Ahsoka is not a vergence in the Force like Anakin or the family on Mortis.

When Qui-Gon has his vision of the future Ahsoka came from, he has a brief glimpse of the Daughter’s spirit or essence, for lack of a better word.

And now that Qui-Gon was thinking about it, there was something strange about Knight Tano, about the way she carried herself and the way she stood between Obi-Wan and anyone she deemed to be a threat. She walked with the fluid grace of a warrior, someone who had seen more than their fair share of battle and she gazed out at the world with intense, watchful eyes.

Even in the Force she seemed different and threatening to Qui-Gon. With every glance his impression of Tano seemed to change, from a simple Jedi with more than average gifts to a crowned being escorted by a large and ferocious beast of light and sacrifice to a final vision that was so bizarre and confusing as to be little more than nonsense.

One could argue, if one was so inclined, that Ahsoka’s contact with the Daughter and the sharing of her energy allowed our Perfect Space Daughter to survive the travel back through time and space. That seems a solid theory to me but might also imply that a good deal of that extra Force power was used up ensuring she arrived back in time relatively unharmed.

Either way, Ahsoka now exists in a time where the Daughter is alive and out there somewhere balancing the Force with her Father, Gandalf the Blue, and her Brother, Goth Crashdown. Her connection is not something that Ahsoka is concerned about.

Thanks for the ask!

#Ask Auntie Fishy #Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #I can't wait until we get to see more in Qui-Gon's head #That Problematic Hippie is going to have some crazy as hell visions #Lay off the weed Qui-Gon my dude #raventrigonsdaughter

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fireflyfish · 7 years

Text

Tano and Kenobi: Tatooine

Previously on Tano and Kenobi...

Desperately fleeing the relentless pursuit of the bounty hunters sent by Culling Blade, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi have fled with the Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze, across the Outer Rim. Out of time and with nowhere else to run, Ahsoka makes a bold decision to trade their starship for passage on a freighter.

A freighter bound for the desert planet of Tatooine.

First | Previous | Next | AO3

Melausta on the Outer Rim.

A Republic cruiser flew through the atmosphere, smoothly gliding over the spaceport of the planet’s capital city.

Hovering in place for a moment as the landing gear deployed, the vermillion ship slowly sank down into its assigned landing bay. White, billowing clouds of steam jetted out of the ship’s exhaust vents, nearly obscuring the boarding ramp that was quickly lowered.

A humanoid figure strode out, hard-soled boots ringing against the duracrete walls of the landing bay. He stepped into the warm midday sunlight and pulled off the voluminous hood that covered his brown hair and blunt features. Taking out his personal communications device, the man keyed in a frequency. “This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and I have landed on Melausta.”

There were several minutes of silence as the message bounced through the express relays of the holonet system before the reply came back.

“Understood, Master Jinn,” Mace Windu’s voice crackled over the com, low and serious. “Please inform the Temple when you have located the Duchess of Mandalore, Knight Tano, and Padawan Kenobi. May the Force be with you. Windu out.”

The line went dead and Qui-Gon tucked his com back into his belt and took off into the bustling city with one thing on his mind.

I’m coming, Obi-Wan.

Three days later it became clear that while Obi-Wan, Knight Tano, and the Duchess had been in the capital city of Melausta, they were no longer there and most likely hadn’t been there for two weeks, maybe more. The local magistrate helpfully explained that there had been a bit of a scuffle with some Mandalorian bounty hunters about three weeks back but no one had been able to charge them with anything more onerous than disturbing the peace.

“Some of those boys work for Jabba and the Hutt Syndicate,” the magistrate explained, showing Qui-Gon the footage of the fracas in the market district. “So there wasn’t a lot of push from the judiciary to indict them. And nobody’s seen a Jedi on Melausta in years! Truth be told, the Hutts are the law out here, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon frowned at the holo footage with his arms folded over his chest. “The citizens of this planet are content to let known criminals and bounty hunters walk free on their streets?”

“You’re mighty far away from Coruscant, Master Jedi,” the magistrate shrugged, pulling out a data stick and handing it over to Qui-Gon. “People here are just glad they won’t be kidnapped and sold into slavery on Nar Shaddaa. I’m sorry we can’t be of more help to you.”

Qui-Gon took the data stick with a brusque gesture and thanked the local law enforcement officer for his help before marching out of the building and back to his ship.

He would use the onboard computer to process the data stick in the hopes of finding some clue to Obi-Wan’s whereabouts. The footage was the only real lead he had, what with the Force silent and still on the subject of the boy. No matter how deeply he meditated, nothing seemed to spark in his awareness and there was a growing, cold dread in his heart that he would find him too late.

I knew Tano would lead you into danger, Obi-Wan. I only hope I can find you before she carelessly gets you hurt.

Two days later, he still had not found anything that would help.

“And you’re positive there’s nothing?” Qui-Gon frowned at the hologram of Master Jocasta Nu hovering above his ship’s onboard holoprojector. “Nothing at all?”

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon,” Master Nu shook her head, frowning. “I have been over the footage twice myself, as have Masters Plo and Windu. Knight Tano and Padawan Kenobi are nowhere to be found. The droid analysis reports the same finding.”

“But there has to be something there!” Qui-Gon insisted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “They couldn’t have just vanished!”

“All we can do is trust in the Force and wait for them to contact us,” Master Windu said, his face appearing in the flickering blue light of the projector. “I understand your concerns, Qui-Gon, but the Senate has an assignment for you and I cannot put it off any longer. You must return to Coruscant. Another Jedi will take over the search for Knight Tano and Padawan Kenobi.”

Qui-Gon grit his teeth and bowed his head to Master Windu, the Master of the Order. “Yes, Master Windu. I understand. Who will be taking over the search in my absence?”

“Master Tinn is on his way as we speak,” Mace said, hoping that the mention of a sitting member of the Council being dispatched to find two lost Jedi would sooth Jinn’s hackles. “We are all worried about Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, but you are needed here, Qui-Gon. Once we have located them and assured the Duchess’s safety, you will be the first person I call.”

Nodding, Qui-Gon bowed to the hologram. “Thank you, Master Windu. I will depart shortly.”

And with that he cut off the feed to the Temple and let out a particularly florid curse in Bacchi. He rested his hands on the communications console in his ship, unable to help calling out into the Force. Where are you, Obi-Wan?

To say that Tatooine was hot would not do it proper justice.

Obi-Wan couldn’t really think of a word that could do the desert planet on the Outer Rim justice but “hot” just didn’t seem up to the task. He liked “blistering” or “scorching” but they didn’t quite encompass the blinding, searing light of the twin suns of Tatoo 1 and Tatoo 2. While the length of the day was similar to that of Coruscant with only a few extra hours of sunlight added, those hours seemed brutally exhausting and cruel to Obi-Wan, who just wanted some peace from the heat and the stark brightness overhead.

And that didn’t even begin to cover what all this sun and ultraviolet radiation was doing to his skin. If he got out of this mess without third degree burns, he told himself, he would consider it a miracle.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your robe, Ben,” Satine murmured from where she stood next to him as they waited for Ahsoka to emerge from the cantina she had stepped into looking for information. If there was any consolation to Obi-Wan’s suffering on Tatooine, it was that he had spared Satine further misery, like a true Jedi Knight.

“You are more than welcome, S-Satine.” Obi-Wan stumbled over the Duchess’ given name, feeling scandalously informal. They had decided on the flight to Tatooine that it would be dangerous to refer to Satine by her titles and Obi-Wan had spent most of the flight stammering over her name and feeling even more like an idiot than he usually did.

Ahsoka finally had to step in and suggest with a smile, “You could always call her ‘my lady’. Then you’re still being respectful but a stranger might simply think you’re being extra romantic with your girlfriend.”

Satine had been in the refresher at the time and so Obi-Wan felt free to hiss at his master. “The Duchess is not my girlfriend, Master! I am a Jedi and she is the leader of the Mandalorian people! A relationship between us is impossible and against the Jedi Code!”

Ahsoka nodded solemnly at her padawan’s observation. “I agree. Those are all very good reasons why Satine should not be your girlfriend.”

Obi-Wan watched Ahsoka out of the corner of his narrowed eyes. “I sense a ‘but’ is coming, Master, and I do not think I am going to like it.”

“But if you do decide to make a go of it, I support you,” Ahsoka grinned, pulling out some ration bars and offering one to Obi-Wan who refused in a mortified huff. “Satine is a lovely young woman and I don’t think you could do better than the ruler of a planet.”

“Master!” Obi-Wan groaned, covering his hands and wishing they were on a planet so he could beg the Force to open up a bottomless pit and swallow him whole.

In the end, Obi-Wan chose to stumble his way through Satine’s name in the interest of her safety and also because a small part of him was secretly thrilled at the prospect at being allowed to cast aside his propriety for the mission.

But only for the mission. Once they were safely back on Coruscant, Obi-Wan was fully prepared to go back to using the proper and more respectful “Your Grace”.

Still, it is nice to call her by her name, Obi-Wan thought.

“Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to colonize this hellish planet?” Satine grumbled, pulling the hood of Obi-Wan’s robes further down to give herself more shade. “And why haven’t they built any kind of protection from the suns? Mandalore is a desert now but we don’t live exposed to elements like this. It’s barbaric!”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly and rummaged around in his go bag lying slung over one shoulder. He pulled out a small metal canister filled with cool water that Ahsoka had given him earlier that morning.

They each had one and he knew for a fact that Satine had already gone through hers. “Thirsty?”

Satine let out a gasp of delight and took the canister and was unscrewing the cap when she stopped and turned to look at Obi-Wan, her brows furrowed and her expression worried. “Were you just going to let me drink all your water without saying anything?”

Obi-Wan flushed, which was hard to see under his sunburn, and looked away. “I… thought something cool might take your mind off this sandy hellscape we find ourselves in.”

“Ben Kenobi!” Satine said, looking horrified as she reached out to give Obi-Wan a good swat on the arm. “You… you… stupid boy! Take your water back! I will not be responsible for your death by dehydration.”

Obi-Wan took the drink canister back from Satine and tucked it back into his bag with a guilty relief. “Thank you, Satine. I shall endeavor not to expire today.”

Satine nodded, mollified. “Good. I should hate to have to explain that to Master Ahsoka.”

“Explain what to me?” Ahsoka asked as she emerged from the cantina, a smile on her face as she tucked a handful of credits into a pouch on her hip. “What did I miss?”

Obi-Wan was going to explain his chivalrous actions but Satine got to them first. “Ben was going to gallantly give me the last of his water because I was childishly complaining about this accursed heat,” Satine announced, her head high. “And I made him take it back as I do not relish the idea of him dying from dehydration or the having to explain his untimely demise.”

Ahsoka blinked in confusion, her gaze jumping from Obi-Wan to Satine and back again as she arched one brow. “Right. Well, the good news is, I’ve got enough money for an early dinner. Bad news is, there’s a big podrace coming up and there’s no place to stay.”

Pulling her hood up over her montrals, Ahsoka moved forward into the busy central thoroughfare of Mos Espa with Obi-Wan and Satine at her side. Since it was the main artery of traffic and business in the city, the street was lined by stalls and shops, each one selling something different and the merchants calling out in a wide variety of languages but predominantly in Huttese.

Satine stayed close to Obi-Wan’s side as they walked, asking softly what different sellers were saying, and he happily translated for her. They passed a stand selling exotic food from as far away as Corellia and one stand that offered what it was calling traditional Mandalorian “Fire Food” once Obi-Wan translated it back into Basic.

“Oh! It’s trac’lo’ras!” Satine smiled as she drifted over to the stall. “It smells heavenly.”

Ahsoka followed Obi-Wan over to Satine and the Jedi agreed that the skewers of spiced meat looked and smelled divine. She fished out the credits necessary for two skewers and handed them over to the seller, who bowed his head in thanks and said something in a language she wasn’t very familiar with.

Continuing on their way, Satine let out a happy sigh at the little piece of home. “Oh this is delicious! When I was younger and my mother would take me to the market, she would always buy one and share it with me.”

“Master, would you like the rest of mine?” Obi-Wan offered, having eaten about a third of his skewer and unwilling to let Ahsoka starve if he could help it. “It’s quite good but I’m not sure I should put so much on my stomach with all this heat.”

Smiling back at her padawan, Ahsoka took the offered food. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

You won’t be too hungry? she thought as they stepped out of the way of an oncoming landspeeder. And why is Satine wearing your robe?

Obi-Wan glanced up at Ahsoka and bit his lower lip. I… I wanted to protect her from the sun.

Obi-Wan! Ahsoka shook her head and pulled off her robe, with a swirl and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “There. That’s better.”

“But what about you?” Obi-Wan protested but allowed his master to pull the hood up and hide him in its shadows anyway. She could sense his relief in the Force, cool and sweet.

“I’ll be fine,” Ahsoka promised as they came to a stop at the corner of another street, watching the ambling, colorful crowd of Outer Rim civilization pass them by.

Ducking under a nearby awning, it was startling to see how much a difference simple shade made in the omnipresent heat and blinding haze of the Tatooine sunlight. Ahsoka hadn’t really understood her master’s hatred of his home planet, but she was starting to get an inkling.

The three of them paused under the protective shade of a droid merchant’s shop as they watched the chaotic swirl of Mos Espa pass them by. Beings from all corners of the galaxy were there but it was easy to tell the natives from the visitors.

People from off-planet had a faint pink softness about them as their bodies began to adjust to the relentless heat and dryness. They were the ones throwing back expensive canisters of water and dousing themselves or their necks in an attempt to beat the heat at its own game and they left far too much delicate skin bared to the elements.

The natives were the ones covered up in the light colors of sand and dunes, their skin dark, faces sharp and in some, prematurely aged. They stuck to the shade as much as they could, their loose robes flowing and allowing what breeze there was to help stave off the heat.

The Force seemed particularly riotous on Tatooine, as if the sheer variety of people and purposes gave a new dimension to it that Ahsoka had rarely experienced and Obi-Wan had never felt before.

“Are you gonna buy something or just take up space?” the owner of the stall muttered as he stepped out from the cool shadows of his shop. “I’m not running an inn!”

Ahsoka held up her hands and gestured for Obi-Wan and Satine to move on ahead of her. “My apologies, friend. We’ll be on our way.”

“Lazy off-worlders,” the man grumbled, shuffling back inside. “Bunch of no-goods and gamblers making everything a mess for the Boonta.”

Frowning, Ahsoka hurried to catch up to Satine and Obi-Wan, who were now standing on the side of the road watching something up ahead.

When she stepped up next to her padawan she saw what had frozen the two teens in place.

A Nikto and a Weequay were laughing loudly as they stood on either side of a young human woman who was holding a package close to her chest and trying to get away from them. There was a growing circle of space around the trio as people backed away from the scene of the young woman and her harassers, who were picking at the braids in her hair and the protective cloak she was wearing.

“Sarela! Did you boss give you the day off?” The Weequay grinned as he leaned in closer. “You should come spend it with me! I’ll take real good care of you.”

“Don’t listen to that chuta!” The Nikto sneered, wrapping an arm around the girl as he tried to guide her away from the front of the large shop she was trying to purchase goods in. “Everybody knows Trazz is all talk and no meat if you catch my drift!”

“Let go of me!” the girl shouted, trying to break free. “Get your hands off of me!”

There were mutters from the crowd around Ahsoka, whispers about how “Someone should do something,” and then replies of “Won’t matter. They’re Gardulla’s men. Nobody messes with Gardulla.” Anger, frustration, and defeated resignation colored the Force around them.

Obi-Wan seethed at the sight and Ahsoka found it hard to disagree with him. He looked up at his master, his expression pleading for permission to go break a few bones to protect the young woman being accosted.

Minutely shaking her head, Ahsoka reluctantly tried to lead Obi-Wan and Satine past the thickest part of the crowd.

We can’t put Satine in danger like that. If we act, her identity might be revealed and I really don’t like our chances on Tatooine of all places, Ahsoka explained to Obi-Wan, who bristled with outrage as he followed his master, his jaw clenched.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan managed to grind out, trying to guide the Duchess through the crowd. “We’re going, Satine.”

“We can’t!” Satine hissed, keeping her voice low as they struggled through the crowd mesmerized by the ongoing scene. “We can’t let those brutes hurt that poor woman!”

“Master says we cannot risk the danger of exposing you,” Obi-Wan explained, even as he struggled to accept his master’s logic. While he knew it made the most sense and would keep the three of them out of danger, it went against the very fiber of his being, of the Jedi Code and his own morals and what made it even worse was that he could sense his master hating her decision just as much as he did.

“But.. but that’s wrong,” Satine said, looking back at the poor girl. “What if something happens to her?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. That it was more important to keep Satine and Obi-Wan safe.

“Maybe we’re just not being convincing enough,” the Nikto sneered as he patted the blaster on his hip as his friend snickered at his side. “Now why don’t you come with us, Sarela. Me and Trazz just wanna show you a good time. What’s wrong with that?”

“Be a good girl and we won’t tell Gardulla that your folks are behind on their water taxes,” the other thug said, picking up on his buddy’s odious suggestion. “If you’re really nice to us, we’ll forget all about ‘em for a while.”

“No! Please! Let me go!” Sarela pleaded, as the crowd started to disperse, already knowing the endgame of this little overt display of bullying. Things like this happened every day in Mos Espa and all over Tatooine and sometimes it was just better to turn your head and accept it than hope for something more. Something better.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I can’t let this go.

“You know, I don’t think she wants to go anywhere with you,” she called out, the crowd quickly pulling away like the tide rolling out. “In fact, I think you two should leave the girl alone and go about your business.”

The thugs turned slowly to stare at Ahsoka in a kind of dumb-struck, bug-eyed shock. “What did you say?” the Nikto asked.

“I said, you should leave her alone,” Ahsoka replied, striding out toward the men, her head held high, her gaze calm and level and her hands loose at her side. She could feel Obi-Wan’s fierce pride radiating in the Force and Satine’s relief, weaker but still there. She was glad to know that they were all agreed that there were just some things they couldn’t ignore.

“And who the hell are you?” the Nikto spat, jabbing a finger at Ahsoka’s chest.

Ahsoka canted her head ever so slightly and smiled. “A concerned citizen. Now I suggest you and your friend leave... Sarela? It’s Sarela, right?”

The girl nodded, her eyes round in surprise.

“Good,” Ahsoka’s gaze never left the two thugs. “I suggest you and your friend leave Sarela alone.”

“Are you gonna make us?” the other man sneered, arms folded over his chest. “Sarela’s a real good friend of ours, aren’t ya?”

“I d-don’t want any t-trouble,” the girl stammered, looking frantically from Ahsoka to Gardulla’s men. “P-please! I just… I just want… to go home.”

Ahsoka glanced at Sarela, at the panic taking over her spirit, and her lips pulled into a thin line. “You heard her, gentlemen. Let Sarela go home.”

“Kark you, you headtailed bitch!” The Nikto snarled and lashed out with a fist, no doubt hoping to catch Ahsoka by surprise. The crowd, drawn back by Ahsoka’s actions, let out a gasp.

“What the hell?” The Weequay stammered as Ahsoka stood there, as solid as the rocky bluffs of the wastes, her blue eyes bright with anger and the Nikto’s fist caught neatly in her hand. “No way! There’s no karking way!”

The Nikto let out another curse as Ahsoka used his fist and his arm to unbalance him and fling him to the ground. “My arm! That bitch broke my arm!” he howled in pain.

“You’ll live,” Ahsoka sniffed and looked at the Weequay still standing in front of her.

She could feel Obi-Wan’s spirit shifting through the Force to whisper to Sarela, telling her without words to slip into the crowd and run away back to her family, which she did.

“Do you want to try your luck too, friend?” she asked the Weequay.

Enraged this strange woman was making a mockery of him and his buddy, the Weequay pulled out a knife and lashed out at Ahsoka in a wide arc.

She dodged it easily, hopping backwards as the thug advanced. His eyes were wide as he stared at her, caught somewhere between fury and fear. She could tell that he didn’t really want to be in this fight but he couldn’t let the challenge to him and his friend stand. Not when Ahsoka had humiliated them in public like that.

No one would ever respect them again if word got out about this.

He advanced with wild swings, once, twice, and then a third before Ahsoka blocked his right arm with her left, twisted it over and around, pinning it against her side.

The Weequay cried out in pain and dropped his knife.

With her opponent’s torso exposed, Ahsoka pummeled him with a few hits to the guts before she gave him a proper upper cut and let him fall over backward to lie gasping on the ground as he spat red blood into the dust.

Ahsoka stared down at the thugs, her blue eyes brighter than the sky overhead. “Go back to your boss. And never bother that girl again. Do you understand me?”

Compulsion was laced thick through her words, and the Nikto and the Weequay slowly shambled upright and stumbled back into the crowd, muttering to themselves as the curious onlookers dispersed and normalcy resumed.

Ahsoka let the crowd surge up around and past her, letting it carry Obi-Wan and Satine over to her side. She looked at them and gave them a half smile at Obi-Wan’s approving nod and Satine’s relieved and proud grin.

“That was truly amazing, Master Tano,” Satine said as she followed Ahsoka and Obi-Wan back to the edge of the street and the fringes of the crowd. “Those ruffians will certainly think twice about accosting any more innocent people after that.”

“I just hope Sarela is alright,” Ahsoka said as she slid past a large Ithorian arguing with a Rodian about a speeder part as if the entire encounter hadn’t even happened.

Every one had short memories on Tatooine.

“And I think it would be a good idea if we could find a place to stay for the night. Especially after what just happened. I don’t want those idiots to come back looking for us with more friends and even more weapons.”

“But where can we stay?” Obi-Wan asked, following his master and keeping Satine close to his side. “We haven’t enough credits for an inn and we don’t have a ship anymore.”

Ahsoka let out a sigh and came to a stop between two shops, one selling off-world fruits and vegetables and the other selling a variety of alcohol from all around the Outer Rim. She pulled Obi-Wan and Satine close as they started to discuss what they were going to do about lodgings.

“I’m sure there’s some place we can stay,” Ahsoka assured her padawan and the Duchess. “Mos Espa is big enough to have a place that we can afford somewhere and then tomorrow we can see about earning some credits to get us off this planet.”

“Perhaps we could try one of the inns near the spaceport?” Satine suggested. “I thought one of them said the nightly rent was ten credits for a room. I would be happy to sleep on the floor if it would save us money.”

“You don’t want to do that,” an accented, feminine voice interrupted their conversation, carried on the faintest breeze. “That’s where the night flowers work.”

Ahsoka looked back over her shoulder at the owner of the voice, a petite woman with dark hair coiled into a thick braid at the base of her neck. She was inside the produce stall, picking out some brightly colored sunset fruits from Corellia and setting them into a basket that was covered with a bright green cloth.

Reaching out to the Force on instinct, Ahsoka found it was silent but warm and reassuring to her senses. “Thank you, my friend. If you don’t mind me asking, is there a place you would recommend we stay?”

“What’s a night flower?” Satine asked Obi-Wan, who leaned over and whispered the explanation in her ear. She let out a gasp and turned bright red, slapping a hand over her mouth.

The woman smiled at the fruit in her hand and looked up at Ahsoka, her expression exhausted but her dark eyes kind. “Not if you’re considering the Night Flower Garden. Do you have no money?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No. We… we didn’t plan on coming to Tatooine.”

The woman nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Most people don’t. What is your name?”

“Ahsoka. This is Obi-Wan and her name is Satine.”

Obi-Wan bowed and Satine gave a little curtsey as they chorused, “Hello.”

“Are they… your children?” the woman asked, her brows puzzled as she put the last of her shopping in the basket. She pulled a tan scarf up over her head and tossed the loose edge over her shoulder, the warmth in the Force leaving with her as she moved away.

“I protect them,” Ahsoka explained, watching the other woman as she walked up to the shop keeper and pulled back the cloth that was covering the food, handing over a few credits after he gave her the total.

“Give Gardulla my best,” the merchant said as the woman stepped out onto the street and gave Ahsoka a long look before beckoning her to follow.

They moved down the street, the woman a few feet ahead of them, weaving in and out of the crowd, gliding past clutches of people. She came to the end of the busier section of the main road and waited for Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Satine to catch up.

“I saw what you did for Sarela,” the woman said, holding a hand up by her mouth, her words soft. “I saw you stand up to Gardulla’s thugs. I haven’t seen anyone stand up to my master’s men in a long time.”

“Your master?” Satine echoed, her eyes growing wide with a dawning realization. “Oh no!”

The woman glanced at Satine but did not reply as she moved ahead, looking Ahsoka up and down. “You are right. You will need to stay out of sight. You are very distinctive, even for a mercenary.”

“My master’s not a mercenary,” Obi-Wan tried to explain, reaching for his lightsabers when Ahsoka stopped him.

Mercenary works for now, Obi-Wan. Let’s not blow our cover just yet.

“Well, whatever she is, she needs to hide and you do too,” the woman explained, giving Obi-Wan and Satine a look as she folded her arms over her chest. “Your accents make you exotic here and exotic things do not stay free for long on Tatooine. You may stay with me and my son. It is the least I can do after what you did for Sarela.”

“We couldn’t,” Ahsoka said, sensing the anxiety and tension coming off of the woman in heavy, swamping waves. What she was offering was clearly going to put her and her son at risk and Ahsoka didn’t want to put anymore lives in danger than she absolutely had to. “I’m sure we’ll find some other place to stay.”

“You won’t,” the woman insisted, shaking her head. “We don’t get many Togruta off-worlders, let alone females capable of taking down two of Gardulla’s men. Word will get around fast. You’ll be safer in the slave quarters.”

“The slave quarters?” Ahsoka echoed, the Force louder now in the back of her mind, urging her to follow the woman, to accept her offer. “You’re a slave?”

“Yes,” the woman explained and stepped out into the sunlight. “Gardulla is my master. My name is Shmi.”

Shmi. Her name is Shmi and she has a son.

“My mother’s name was Shmi,” Anakin said one night of a long forgotten siege as they had stared up at the stars overhead. “And I know she would have liked you, Snips.”

Ahsoka froze, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest as Obi-Wan and Satine almost ran into her.

Her mind went blank.

She struggled for something to say, what to think about this sudden revelation that Anakin’s mother was there, right in front of her. That their long, hard flight from Mandalore had taken them to right where they needed to be.

“Master?” Obi-Wan murmured, reaching out to touch the back of Ahsoka’s arm, his spirit brushing hers, warm and golden with concern. “Are you alright?”

Shmi came to a stop in the middle of the road and looked back at them, confused. “Ahsoka? Are you coming?”

You coming or not, Snips? A warm memory of a voice thought long lost broke through the stunned white noise of Ahsoka’s mind, bringing with it a wave of joy, relief, and the sudden terrified realization that she was about to change the future irrevocably.

There was no going back.

Everything was going to change and it was going to be her responsibility to see that it was for the better.

Why are you here, if not to change things? The Presence whispered in the back of Ahsoka’s mind. Don’t be afraid. You won’t be alone. Obi-Wan is with you. This is as much his destiny as it is yours.

Ahsoka looked down at Obi-Wan, his furrowed brows and his worry radiating out into the Force, that was swirling around them both like a river about to burst over its banks. He had no idea what was about to happen, who they were about to meet, and how his life was going to change. Ahsoka wanted to pull him into a hug right then and there and shout, “It’s him! We found him! Your padawan and my master. We found Anakin! And we’ll save him this time. We won’t lose him.”

And then it felt like a knife in her heart that she couldn’t tell him, that she couldn’t share just how important and momentous this was.

“Master Tano?” Satine murmured, stepping up next to Obi-Wan. “Mother Skywalker is telling us to follow her.”

Ahsoka shook herself out of her thoughts and looked up at Shmi, whose dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “I’m sorry. I think the sun is getting to me.”

Shmi shook her head and continued on. “Then we need to get you inside. Come on.”

Shmi told Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Satine to wait in an alleyway around the corner from Gardulla’s palace on the edge of Mos Espa. She had to drop off the shopping she had done for the Hutt’s kitchen before she went home for the day.

“You don’t stay in the palace?” Satine asked, puzzled because while her family’s servants and retainers stayed within the Kryze compound, she couldn’t imagine a Hutt allowing their slaves to wander free.

Shmi shook her head with the studied patience of one who had explained this many times before. “No. I have a tracker chip embedded within me so I couldn’t run away even if I stole a ship. The minute I try to leave the atmosphere, the chip detonates, opening an artery or injecting a poison. I don’t know which. The ones who are poisoned, they call them ‘dancers’ because of the seizures the poison causes.”

Satine let out a horrified gasp. “That’s barbaric.”

“That is how it is out here,” Shmi explained, her eyes soft as she reached out to squeeze the young girl’s shoulder. “There is no slavery on your world, is there? This must be hard for you to hear.”

Satine shook her head fiercely. “There should not be slavery anywhere.”

Shmi chuckled softly. “You will get no argument out of me on that topic. Stay here while I take this to the cook. I should be back shortly.”

Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Satine watched her go, waiting for her to pass out of sight before speaking again, voices quiet and hushed.

“We have to save her,” Satine insisted, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “This is wrong! Putting an explosive chip in someone and violating their civil liberties! It’s abhorrent.”

“But we haven’t any credits,” Obi-Wan said, his arms folded over his chest and one hand in front of his mouth as he chewed on his thumbnail. “And we still need to find a way off this planet and back to Coruscant.”

“Perhaps we could barter for something,” Satine suggested as Ahsoka leaned back up against the wall and stared off into the distance, her mind whirling with thoughts and possibilities, different futures unspooling before her like bolts of fabric flung out into a river to wash downstream with the current. “Do we have anything we could sell?”

“Nothing that will free Shmi and get all four of us back to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said, peering at the bag he had been carrying all day. “It’s mostly Master’s datapads and a few emergency rations and a medkit. Nothing that will fetch us any decent money.”

Satine groaned, rubbing her temples. “If only I could contact my uncle. If he’s found the informant, we could have the money wired here and leave in two days’ time.”

“That is a lovely thought, Satine, but we can’t risk it,” Obi-Wan said, his voice kind but brooking no argument. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Don’t you agree, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s words startled Ahsoka out of her meditations and she turned to look at the two teenagers next to her. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. And there’s five of us. Shmi has a son, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I forgot about him. How old is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Ahsoka shrugged as the Force alerted her to Shmi’s return. “Here she comes!”

Shmi came around the corner and walked down the alleyway to them, pulling her scarf up over her hair. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long. The taskmaster didn’t want to let me leave early.”

“Did we get you in trouble?” Ahsoka asked as they fell in line behind Shmi, who led them across another wide road before heading into a alleyway between two older buildings.

“No, no!” Shmi said, waving her concerns off. “He understands that I have a young son at home and sometimes he needs me. It’s part of the reason I stay in the slave quarters and not in Gardulla’s palace. They can’t stand to hear him cry.”

“Oh. How old is he?”

“Almost two in a few months,” Shmi answered with a happy smile. “He is my whole world. He has been the best thing to happen to me since I entered into this life.”

As they spoke they crossed over a smaller street and into a part of Mos Espa that had seen better days. The mud brick buildings were built one on top of the other, like a warren or a beehive.

The doors to the different homes were open to allow in the breeze and groups of children ran around, laughing and calling out to each other as they played a complicated game of tag. A quartet of women were sitting in the long shadow of a row of houses, gathered around a battered and dusty table. They were shelling beans as they talked and watched the the neighborhood children.

The youngest of the group, clearly pregnant, was the one who saw them first. “Shmi! You’re back early! Is something wrong? Who are these people?”

“These are my friends, Abarrane,” Shmi answered, gesturing to Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Satine. “They protected Sarela from Trazz and Drez.”

“I heard about that!” one of the older woman gasped, peering up at Ahsoka with watery eyes the color of old jade. “Of course, I heard it was a Twi’lek! Thought it was maybe Nalea. Thought she’d finally had enough of those brutes bothering her girlfriend. Well, good job, young one. It couldn’t have happened to a rougher pair of bullies.”

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said, bowing her head. “I just wanted to help.”

“Not enough people in the galaxy like you,” the old woman observed before she caught sight of one of the children up to something dangerous. “Oi! Greedo! Get down from there! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“How is he?” Shmi asked Abarrane, trading a loaf of bread and some dried figs from the shop for her own bowl of shucked legumes and a package wrapped in waxed flimsi. “Did he give you any trouble?”

“Of course not,” Abarrane replied with a wide smile. “He was an angel. He’s been napping for about an hour.”

“Oh good,” Shmi sighed, and her relief flooded through the Force.

Ahsoka thought it was strange that someone who did not possess Force sensitivity could have such a direct effect on the Force around her. But whatever that meant, she would have to think about it later, she decided as Shmi invited them into her home. “Please come in. It’s a little small but we can make it work.”

Satine and Obi-Wan entered, followed by Ahsoka, and all three happy to find the temperature dropping once they were out of the sun and protected from the oppressive heat by the stone walls around them.

Shmi came in last and closed the door, activating a small circulation system as she directed her guests into the main living area. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m just going to check up on my son.”

Satine took a seat on a plasticrete chair while Obi-Wan sat down on a wooden bench. He offered it to his master but Ahsoka shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I’d rather stand.”

“I’m surprised at how cool it is,” Satine murmured her eyes taking in the details of construction and the small little decorations Shmi had added, from a colorful, if faded, wall hanging made of knotwork and beading to a thin but well-maintained blanket which was folded carefully over the one upholstered chair in the room that all three had left empty for their host.

“Mud-brick buildings are used in hot and arid climates because the bricks serve as insulation,” Obi-Wan explained to Satine. “It keeps the homes cool in the day and warm at night. The desert can be deadly cold at times.”

“I am aware of what a desert can be like,” Satine replied with a wry grin. “I do come from one, you know.”

Obi-Wan turned red. “I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to imply… Of course you would be well aware of the dangers of such an environment!”

Satine let out a giggle and shook her head as Ahsoka smiled. “I was teasing, Obi-Wan.”

“Ah, well, yes,” Obi-Wan blushed even more and looked away before he searched for a topic to hide his embarrassment. “Did we ever catch Shmi’s son’s name?”

“It’s Anakin,” Shmi said, standing in the hallway that opened onto the room where her guests were sitting, her son tucked up against her side. The little boy let out a soft yawn and tried to bury his face in his mother’s shoulder, clearly wanting to go back to his nap. Shmi shifted him around and gently kissed his forehead, whispering to him that they had guests.

It’s him. It has to be him, Ahsoka thought in amazement. After all this time.

“These are friends, Ani,” Shmi whispered to her son, rubbing her hand down his back as he slowly woke up and took in the people around him. “This is… Satine, right?”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, wiggling her fingers in greeting. “Hello, Anakin!”

The small boy blinked at her, his little face wrinkled with confusion before his mother turned toward Ahsoka, who stepped away from the wall to walk over to Shmi and Anakin and smile down at the young boy. “This is Ahsoka and she is a Togruta. Can you say ‘Togruta’, Ani?”

Anakin could not say Togruta but he did let out a delighted giggle as he reached for one of Ahsoka’s lekku, his chubby fist grasping in the air. His face lit up, as did the Force around him, filling the room with such a pure, radiant happiness it almost made Ahsoka cry for joy.

Ahsoka gently stroked Anakin’s cheek as Shmi told him it was very rude to pull on someone’s lekku. “Hello, Little One.”

Hello, Skyguy. I found you.

And finally, Shmi introduced the last guest. “This young man is Obi-Wan. Say ‘hello’ to Obi-Wan, Ani!”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a wide grin and bowed his head, meeting the boy’s gaze with his own. “Hello, Anakin. It’s a pleasure to meet… you,” he said, trailing off in wonder and awe at the boy’s brilliant presence in the Force.

Anakin just smiled and shyly mumbled, “Hello.”

#Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Qui-Gon Jinn #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #Someone you don't want to mess with #You burn in your own flames #The Most Problematic Glacier in the Galaxy #HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!#BABY ANAKIN IS HERE!#LET'S BREAK OUT THE CHAMPAGNE AND HAVE A PARTY!#WOOOOHOOOOO!#OUR FAVORITE TINY SPACE BEAN IS HERE AND HE'S ADORABLE!#We'll see more of Obi-Wan's reactions in the next chapter #BUT ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS HERE!!!!!#WOOHOOOOO!#*eyebrow wiggles*

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fireflyfish · 7 years

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Tano and Kenobi: Curiosity

Previously on Tano and Kenobi…

Two years into a successful apprenticeship with Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano, Padawan Learner Obi-Wan Kenobi is filled with both excitement and anxiety at promise of his very first mission with his master. But before they jet off to Raxus on the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan needs to do some researching in the Jedi Archives.

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The sun had set by the time Ahsoka and Obi-Wan arrived back at the Jedi Temple, the five spires lit up as a beacon to one and all, the great seat of light and hope in the galaxy.

This was the home of the Jedi.

This was the heart of the Order.

Obi-Wan had exhausted his questions about their upcoming assignment and was trailing after Ahsoka, observing the people on the streets as they passed them. The Temple District was quieter than the Senate District but there was always something to see. Sentients from every corner of the galaxy could be found in the district, from academics and scholars who wanted to do research on the Jedi and their history to those who came seeking a chance to work within the Temple grounds to those who simply saw the Temple as a tourist spot, a place one simply had to see when they got a chance to visit Coruscant.

Security at the Temple during Ahsoka’s childhood had been far more rigorous than it was now. She was still surprised to see the occasional tour group put together by a senatorial friend of the High Council or a wide-eyed clutch of invited sentients following after whatever Jedi Master had been roped into giving the tour this time. Ahsoka had once tagged along with one of these groups during her first year back in the past, following Master Diaz and a crop of new senators from the Mid Rim through the halls as she tried to re-learn where everything was supposed to be.

“Master?” Obi-Wan’s voice broke into Ahsoka’s thoughts as they entered the Temple. “Master? I… may I confess something?”

They had just passed through the massive main entrance of the Temple, moving past the towering bronzium statues that represented great masters from the ancient days of the Order. Ahsoka glanced at Obi-Wan and nodded, gesturing for him to follow her over to a private corner.

Safely tucked away where no one could hear them, Ahsoka turned to her padawan. “What is it, Obi-Wan? Is something wrong?”

“No, well, I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan frowned at the floor as he scratched at the back of his neck, his expression one of deep thought. “It’s… well, you see, Master. I… I am very excited about this new assignment we’ve been given. It’s only… I…”

Ahsoka canted her head to the side, brows raised as she waited for Obi-Wan to work through how he was feeling. She had an inkling of what the boy might confess to but she wanted to give him as much time as he needed to voice his concerns and worries.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, Obi-Wan plunged ahead. “You told me to be honest about my feelings, Master, and… and… I am very nervous, Master. This is our first mission and… and I think I have changed my mind. I don’t want it to be pirates.”

Nodding, her face relaxing into a warm, comforting smile. “You’re a little scared, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan flushed crimson all the way up to his ears but he agreed. “Yes, Master. A little. Is that bad? We don’t even know what it is yet.”

“No, it’s not bad and you’re right,” Ahsoka said, leaning down to place both hands on his shoulders. “We don’t know what our assignment is. For all we know, it’s some boring bodyguard job for a diplomat. It could be a three-day assignment like that and then we’re back at the Temple.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze still focused on his boots. “I’m sorry, Master. I should trust the Force to guide us.”

Ahsoka sighed and gently pulled Obi-Wan into her arms for a hug. “Don’t apologize for being honest about how you feel. If I don’t know you’re upset, how can I help make it better?”

Obi-Wan leaned into her shoulder, mumbling. “I just… all these thoughts came tumbling into my head of what could go wrong, or all the things I don’t know yet and haven’t studied. I still can’t fully repair a hyperdrive and my Bacchi is terrible and I don’t want to let you down! And what if I do? What if I fail somehow and you get hurt or you die?! Would they send me to the Corps? What if Master Jinn tried to claim me as his padawan learner?”

“Woah! Woah!” Ahsoka interrupted Obi-Wan’s litany of worries and fears, leaning back out of their hug to examine the young boy’s face. “No one is sending you anywhere, Obi-Wan. No one. Okay? You are my padawan and no one is going to separate us.”

Obi-Wan’s blue eyes were round with worry. “Truly, Master?”

“Truly,” Ahsoka reached out to ruffle her padawan’s short, soft fringe of hair. “C’mon. We’re going to be late and we wouldn’t want to be late for our first mission briefing, do we?”

Shaking his head “no”, Obi-Wan stepped back and collected himself, straightening his robes and taking a breath before looking up at Ahsoka. “I think I’m ready now, Master.”

“That’s my padawan,” Ahsoka chuckled and wrapped an arm around him for a quick hug. “Let’s go. We can’t keep Master Windu waiting.”

As it turned out, they were not being sent to investigate pirates, which left Obi-Wan both relieved and disappointed as they stood together in the Council room. Relieved that they weren’t going to be in any real danger, but disappointed that he wouldn’t be the first padawan in his age group to face down a brigand.

And their “mission” wasn’t really a “mission”, if one were technical about it. Knight Tano and Padawan Kenobi had been assigned to accompany Master Plo Koon to facilitate a peaceful resolution between a Core World and one of its colonies that was in rebellion. The negotiations and peace treaty were going to be held on Raxus and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice his master flinch at the mention of the planet. He wondered if that meant Ahsoka and Master Skywalker had traveled to the planet when she was a padawan, and hoped if that were the case this new assignment wouldn’t bring back painful memories for her.

There were times, when his master thought he wasn’t paying attention, that Ahsoka would go silent and somber, her eyes lost out a window as she wrapped her arms around herself. When those moods would strike her, Obi-Wan would wait patiently, too shy and respectful of his master’s history to directly intervene until they passed.

Even so, he would make sure to move around their shared living space louder to make sure he wouldn’t startle her, and often prepared Ahsoka’s favorite tea while he waited for her to come back.

His master’s dark moods never lasted for very long but they were always mournful. There was something about whatever those memories contained that tore at his master and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to prevent another episode from ever happening again if he could.

He knew he couldn’t but that didn’t stop him from trying, from working harder and trying to live up to his mental image of Master Skywalker, his eternally bright, strong and charismatic grandmaster who had been taken from Ahsoka far too soon.

“So our mandate is to learn and observe?” Ahsoka asked the Council for clarification, glancing at Obi-Wan, who nodded in agreement.

“Yes,” Master Windu answered, gesturing to Obi-Wan. “Padawan Kenobi is still a bit young to be involved in more... aggressive missions and, as we have discussed in the past, there are still some on the Council who have concerns about your skills as peacemaker, Knight Tano.”

Obi-Wan wanted to bristle at the perceived insult to his master, but Ahsoka sent a soothing wave through the Force that told him he shouldn’t be angry and Obi-Wan bowed his head. How the Council could not see how amazing Master Ahsoka was continued to baffle him but if she was not angry then it would be wrong for him to be angry as well and he focused on acknowledging his anger and letting it float away like smoke caught in a breeze. He found the visualization helpful when dealing with his stronger emotions.

“I understand,” Ahsoka told the assembled masters, her voice clear and professional. “Padawan Kenobi and I look forward to working with Master Plo Koon and I’m sure we will learn a great deal on our assignment.”

“Our ship will not leave for Raxus until tomorrow afternoon,” Plo Koon rumbled as he rose from his seat in the circle of the Council members. “That should give us plenty of time to prepare for our trip.”

“Is there anything in particular you would like us to do before hand?” Ahsoka asked as she accepted a datapad with the mission briefing and dossier. She briefly scanned it before handing it to Obi-Wan, who accepted it as if being handed a priceless holocron. He held it tight to his chest and straightened up, pulling his shoulders back and trying to be every inch the part of a mature and capable padawan learner.

“If Padawan Kenobi could do some research on history of Acronae and her colony of Acromino before we leave, I would appreciate the extra information,” Master Plo requested, gazing down at the padawan who had stayed silent through the entire meeting, watching everything with round eyes. “Master Nu speaks highly of his abilities as a researcher.”

Obi-Wan felt proud to have received a compliment in front of the Council but he kept the rest of his happiness behind his shields, laminating another layer of protection between his mind and the overwhelming light of the Council.

“I’m sure Obi-Wan would be happy to take on that task,” Ahsoka said, reaching out to pat her padawan on the back. “You think you can manage that, Padawan Kenobi?”

Grinning up at his master, Obi-Wan decided he was never going to tire of hearing Padawan Kenobi said aloud. “Yes, Masters. I am looking forward to it.”

“If there’s nothing else?” Master Windu stood up. “You are dismissed. Good luck and may the Force be with you.”

“And with you, as well,” Ahsoka and Obi-Wan replied in unison, bowing at the same time. Master Plo Koon bowed to the assembled Council members and left with the pair.

Once they were outside of the Council room and walking to the lift, Ahsoka let out a breath, shaking her head ruefully. “One day I’ll get used to being in the Council Room without my master.”

Obi-Wan frowned and moved a little closer to his master, hoping to comfort her with his nearness. Ahsoka noticed this and reached down to squeeze his shoulder in silent thanks.

“It is not something that happens overnight,” Master Plo replied with affection in his modulated voice. “I must confess, there are days when I long to be a Padawan again, to have someone else take on the responsibilities of my day.”

“Glad to hear I’m in good company then,” Ahsoka laughed. “How are the peace proceedings going on Raxus?”

“As well as can be expected,” Master Plo sighed. “Acromino has a wealth of natural resources that her parent system is loathe to lose free access to but public opinion has turned against the ruling majority and with the Senate threatening action against them, Acronae has been forced to acquiesce to peace talks.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful,” Ahsoka observed, meeting Obi-Wan’s eye and arching her brows in surprise. “Does the Senate suspect peace talks will break down and that’s why they’re sending us?”

“I would not be surprised if that was the case,” Plo Koon replied as the lift chimed open and he stepped out, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan following him. “Our ship will leave at 1500 hours but I would like to meet beforehand to make sure you are adequately prepared for our mission. Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master?”

“I have notified Master Nu to give you access to the full Archive should you discover something of worth during your researching,” Plo Koon explained. “I look forward to your analysis of the situation, Padawan.”

“Thank you, Master!” Obi-Wan answered, positively glowing with pride. “I shall do my best.”

“We won’t let you down,” Ahsoka promised, bowing to the Kel Dor master as he bid them good night.

Once they were alone, Ahsoka turned to her padawan. “So… still nervous?”

Chewing on his thumb nail, Obi-Wan glanced up at his master. “Not as much but I’m still glad it’s not pirates.”

Ahsoka laughed. “You know what? I am too.”

Sleep was elusive that night and Ahsoka found herself sitting on the meditation cushions that faced their window overlooking the jeweled nightscape of Coruscant. She had tried meditating but found mental stillness elusive so she took out her datapad and began to write as she always did when the ghosts in her heart were too loud to ignore.

About six months after her arrival, and three datapads full of notes, Ahsoka realized she was going to need a central database to keep track of everything and quietly requisitioned one from the central archives. Master Jocasta Nu had eventually agreed to the request and once the space within the Archive system was created for her, Ahsoka set about tagging and cross referencing her notes.

She opened the entry for her first mission with her master, during the early part of the Clone Wars, when she had flown across the galaxy to take her place at Anakin Skywalker’s side. Like Obi-Wan, she had been both scared and excited, unsure of what to expect from the Chosen One. There had been rumors about him flying around the Temple since Ahsoka was a youngling but she never paid much attention to them. Anakin had been little more than a myth to her younger mind, the former slave who became a padawan learner to the Sith Slayer.

Ahsoka wondered what her padawan would think of that.

He would probably die of embarrassment and those cute ears of his would turn so red!

A soft chuckle escaped her and Ahsoka scrolled down to the passage where she had written out her thoughts.

I remember being so nervous, afraid of making a mistake and getting someone killed. Not myself, because I still didn’t believe I could die, but someone else. Like one of the clones or maybe the enlisted pilots who were flying me down to the surface. Christophis was so pretty from orbit and as we flew in closer, it wasn’t until I could make out the tanks that I noticed the destruction everywhere.

Anakin was so confused. I still don’t know if Master Obi-Wan requested me for Anakin or if it was an honest mix-up on the Temple’s part. Knowing what I know now, I would lay odds on it being Master Yoda’s doing, attempting to help Anakin learn how to let go of his attachments.

I don’t think I helped much in that regard.

Ahsoka’s fingers trailed over the text there, noting Asajj Ventress’s unexpected arrival and the betrayal of a trooper named Slick. By going through her memories she was able to get a general idea of the movements of Ventress and Count Dooku through the war. In hindsight, laid out like a historical tome, it was clear that the Separatists were getting some kind of inside information on the Republic’s movements. There were simply too many engagements that should have gone the their way if not for the chance intervention of Dooku or Grievous or someone else who was supposed to be on the other side of the galaxy.

Shaking her head, Ahsoka wondered how they didn’t catch it beforehand.

We were just run so ragged. There were never enough Jedi, never enough time to stop and think about what we were doing. I still remember when Master overdosed on stims and me, Rex and Jesse had to pin him to the ground so that Kix could sedate him.

And this was what she was training Obi-Wan for? Taking an innocent child and teaching him the arts of war and combat so that another innocent child wouldn’t suffer? Who was she to decide who had to carry the heavier burden in the future?

How could the Temple have asked that of her?

How could she ask that of Obi-Wan?

“Master?”

Startled, Ahsoka looked up from her dark thoughts, not at all surprised to see Obi-Wan holding a cup of tea out to her. She tried to smile and took it from him, setting her datapad aside. “Was I thinking too loud again?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, sitting down on the cushion next to her, his hands wrapped around his own mug of tea. “What happened on Christophis?”

Ahsoka grimaced, chastising herself for not keeping her thoughts behind a better shield. “That was where I had my first mission with my master. It’s where we met actually.”

Brows furrowed, Obi-Wan nodded as he took a sip of tea. “Not here at the Temple?”

“No, I… I was assigned to Master Skywalker,” Ahsoka said, watching the steam drift up from her mug. “There was a situation on Christophis and I was sent out afterwards. We thought everything was taken care of but it turned out it wasn’t. But I saved Master Skywalker’s life and he seemed to like me.”

“You’re reckless, little one,” Anakin sighed, gazing at the ground in front of him. “You never would have made it as Obi-Wan’s padawan. But you might make it as mine.”

Tears stung at her eyes and Ahsoka took a long drink of tea to hide them from her padawan.

I miss you so much, Master.

Obi-Wan was quiet while his master grieved, her pain and anguish clear to him in the Force. This dark mood seemed to be particularly bad and he weighed his options before setting his mug down on the ground. He shuffled over to Ahsoka’s cushion and carefully perched himself on the edge, reaching out with his wiry arms to pull his master in for a hug, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his bounds as a padawan learner.

Ahsoka let out a watery sigh and let her padawan comfort her, let the young boy she had chosen to shepherd to manhood support her in this moment of memory and loss. She wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan and murmured softly, “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan turned his head so that his cheek rested on Ahsoka’s shoulder. He wanted to tell her that he was strong and he could help her through anything, that it was his job to take care of his master as she took care of him. He wanted to tell her that he missed Master Skywalker too, even though he had never met him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to say that but it felt true, deep in his bones. He missed Master Skywalker and wished he was there for Ahsoka.

But all of that seemed terribly forward of him, so Obi-Wan answered honestly enough, “It always makes me feel better when you hug me so I thought I might return the favor, Master?”

A weak chuckle floated up from their hug and Obi-Wan nodded to himself, deciding that he had not in fact overstepped his bounds and that his master appreciated the gesture. Ahsoka squeezed her padawan closer, “You know what, Obi-Wan? There are days when I wonder how such a young kid can be so wise already.”

Pursing his lips in thought, Obi-Wan replied. “I think it’s because I read a lot of books, Master. And I listen to you. Quinlan Vos has a hard time sitting still long enough to hear the full assignment in class and that’s why his marks are so low.”

“Is that so?” Ahsoka sat back up, rubbing away the tears she hadn’t been able to stop. “Is that why he’s always stopping by, to see your notes from class?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “No. He just wants to come visit. You’ve quite the reputation in my class.”

Ahsoka arched her brows at that. “What are you telling them about me, Obi-Wan?”

“Only the truth, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, looking slightly offended. “That you are a former Shadow, raised entirely outside of the Order and that you and Master Skywalker roamed the Outer Rim doing good and… ehm… breaking up organized crime rings. I might have also told them you fought some pirates as well.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Ahsoka’s jaw dropped. “You make us sound like holo stars!”

“Well… your stories sound like they come from holovids!” the padawan harrumphed, folding his arms over his chest. “You cannot accuse me of exaggerating when you, yourself, told me last week that Master Skywalker once bargained with a Hutt for your freedom!”

I knew I shouldn’t have told him about that. Ahsoka let out a long sigh and shook her head, amusement on her face. “You have a point, my young Padawan. Although maybe you should be a little more discreet when talking about my… adventures with Master Skywalker. Some of that stuff is still… top secret.”

Yeah. That should work for now, she thought with a bit of guilt.

Obi-Wan nodded, retreating back to his cushion. “Yes, of course, Master. I simply… I forget that not everyone’s master was as deeply embedded in the criminal underworld as you were. It’s hard when the other padawans are bragging about everything their masters did before taking them on.”

“Oh, trust me!” Ahsoka laughed, standing up and holding out a hand to help Obi-Wan up. “I remember that from when I was a padawan, I mean, an initiate. The only people who gossip more than students are their masters.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan yawned, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing through the bond. “What about?”

“Oh things like whose padawan is doing better in what class,” Ahsoka explained, covering her mouth as her own yawn rose up from the pit of her stomach. “Which team has what assignment and other boring things like that.”

As another wave racked Obi-Wan small frame, he stretched his arms up and up, blinking a few times to focus on Ahsoka. “Sounds terribly boring, Master. Do you mind if I go to bed now? I am very tired all of a sudden.”

“Nope,” Ahsoka replied, reaching over to ruffled Obi-Wan’s hair and giggling at his weak protest. “Good night, Padawan.”

“Good night, Master.”

Obi-Wan was already gone from the suite by the time Ahsoka woke up, a note tapped into his datapad left on the breakfast table.

I have ordered breakfast, Master. It should arrive at 0730 and I made sure it included your favorites. I will eat in the dining hall before I go to the Archives. I should be back at 1000 hours.

Obi-Wan

Smiling, Ahsoka put the datapad back in Obi-Wan’s room, on top of the little stack pushed up against the corner his desk was tucked into. She was not at all surprised to see a go bag half packed and sitting on the foot of his bed as well as his favorite pair of tactical boots resting on the floor. It was clear her padawan was trying to prepare for anything that could possibly happen if the little field kit poking out from the opening of the bag was anything to go by.

“No wonder you were so successful in battle, Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka murmured as a chime at the door alerted her to the arrival of breakfast, right on time as her padawan had promised.

Obi-Wan quietly chewed on a meal bar as he scoured the Archives for information on Acronae and Acromino and the rebellion that had been going on for the past few years. The relationship between the two seemed not unlike a family dispute, with the Acronae leaving its daughter colony to manage its own affairs until they started unduly increasing the taxes on the population of the colony. The details of internecine squabble might have seemed boring to Quinlan but it fascinated Obi-Wan that it took so little to destroy what had been such a close and effective partnership.

“How did it come to this?” Obi-Wan mumbled around his mouthful, adding the document to his traveling datapad. “Why couldn’t they just sit down and talk out their troubles?”

“Compromise is difficult, Padawan Kenobi.”

The familiar voice of Qui-Gon Jinn startled Obi-Wan out of his rumination and he nearly choked on his breakfast as he jumped in his chair. Gazing up from his seat, he could see the Jedi Master smiling at him from the other side of the long row of desks, his hands resting on his hips. “That is why the Jedi Order is so important. We provide an impartial voice that, when guided by the Living Force, can help both parties reach a truce that benefits everyone.”

Obi-Wan blinked and nodded, still too startled to speak. According to the Temple rumor mill, Master Jinn wasn’t expected back for another few days but clearly he had managed to sneak out of the deification ceremony on Ranbeth. That struck Obi-Wan as poorly done but who was he to speak against a master?

“Good morning, Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan said, pushing himself up out of his seat to bow respectfully. “How did your mission on Ranbeth go? Well I hope?”

“Well enough,” Master Jinn replied with a half smile. “What brings you to the Archives so early this morning? Shouldn’t you be in a class with your agemates?”

Standing a little bit taller, Obi-Wan raised his chin as he answered proudly. “Master Tano and I have been assigned to accompany Master Plo Koon to oversee peace talks between Acronae and Acromino. Master Plo Koon gave me permission to do some research before we depart on the history of the two planets.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon nodded, his expression warm. “You must be very excited. It’s a great honor to be sent on a mission at such a young age.”

Obi-Wan flushed and glanced off to the side, inhaling sharply before replying. “Well… we’ve really only been assigned to observe Master Plo Koon’s work. But it is still an honor to given this assignment. I am the first in my class to receive such a task.”

“Of course,” the Jedi Master nodded, mirth dancing in his eyes and Obi-Wan couldn’t decide if Master Jinn was laughing at him or just being friendly. “Jedi Knight Tano must be very proud of your progress. How goes your saber studies? Are you still focusing mainly on jar’kai?”

“Yes, Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan answered. “Master Tano says I am progressing well and my age group will begin an intensive study of Ataru at the start of the next cycle.”

“Oh really?” Qui-Gon mused, smoothing a hand over his beard as he nodded a greeting to a passing master. “Ataru is my specialty, you know. If you ever find yourself stuck on a difficult form I would be happy to offer what wisdom I have. You need only ask, Padawan Kenobi.”

“Thank you for your kind offer, Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan bowed again, his eyes focused on the table in front of him. “I will be sure to mention it to my master.”

“Excellent,” Qui-Gon said and gave Obi-Wan a crisp bowing nod of his head. “If you’ll excuse me, Padawan Kenobi, I must be going. I wish you the best of luck on your mission and may the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you as well, Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan replied, bowing one last time as the towering Jedi master walked away from the desk, giving him the chance to slump back into his seat, nerves making him weak in the knees as adrenaline drained away.

Sighing, Obi-Wan picked up his datapad and slowly fell back into researching the customs and cultures of the people of Acronae and Acromino.

After another hour of reading, note-taking and downloading documents onto his datapad, Obi-Wan stood up for a stretch and a walk up and down the stacks. He passed by a bronzium bust of one of the Lost Masters, frowning up at the Rodian who had chosen to leave the Order in the later half of her life. He wondered what could make a Jedi Master leave the Order, what strange twists and turns of fate could convince someone to cast off their entire life and embrace another, more dangerous and chaotic path.

Who would Obi-Wan Kenobi be without the Jedi Order? Where would he go? What would he do?

He marveled at how Master Ahsoka had lived on her own for so long on the Outer Rim, never falling to the dark side or even being tempted. He liked to think that if something similar happened to him that he would be as strong as his master but he highly doubted that. Obi-Wan’s temper was far too short and he felt things with such intensity that at times it could overwhelm him. It was only through time and practice that he had managed anything resembling calm and even then, it took very little to get his back up. Master Ahsoka said it was charming but Master Yoda disagreed and Master Windu said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan and moved on.

Obi-Wan supposed Master Ahsoka found his temper charming because she said it reminded her of Master Skywalker. He found it hard to believe that Master Skywalker would have a problem with anything, let alone an explosive and short fuse, but he knew his master would never lie to him. He prayed that with enough practice he would one day be able to rein in his emotions and approach the galaxy with the serene confidence that his mental image of Master Skywalker possessed. Obi-Wan was confident that if he could attain such perfection then he would not only make Master Ahsoka proud but he would show those who had doubted him just how wrong they had been about him.

“I bet Master Skywalker didn’t have to beg someone to take him on as a Padawan Learner,” Obi-Wan muttered to his datapad, trying to ignore the sudden flare up of anger in his gut. “I bet his master took him on as soon as he could.”

Obi-Wan would have given anything to know more about his grandmaster and his great-grandmaster but such things were barred to a padawan learner like himself. And with Master Ahsoka being a former Shadow, it was highly likely that whatever information the Archives had on his lineage would be hidden buried under so many layers of encryption it would take a professional slicer a month to get through it all. Most likely only a Council member would be able to access the files and…

Wait.

Obi-Wan did have Master Plo Koon’s permission to access the entire Archive and Master Nu had shown him how to search the entire database to find the articles, entries and data sets he needed for his research.

And no one was paying Obi-Wan the slightest bit of attention this early in the morning.

If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them that I thought I saw Master Skywalker’s name in one of my articles, Obi-Wan told himself as he pulled up the search screen and typed in the name Skywalker under the Master category.

He frowned when the search algorithm asked him for a first name. He had never bothered to ask Master Ahsoka what her master’s first name was and he wondered if his people were from a culture that only had one name, like Master Yoda. He had heard of human cultures like that, where one only had a given name and every other name indicated one’s relationship to the speaker, the listener or their place within their community. It sounded complicated and fascinating but it would make it all the more difficult for Obi-Wan to track down Master Skywalker if that was his only name.

Obi-Wan skipped the first name entry and activated the search, finishing off his protein bar as he watched the search engine chew through the millions of petabytes of data contained within the Archives. According to Master Nu, there were files held within the great vault of knowledge that were older than the physical temple itself, having been transferred from older temples now lost to time. There were files written in languages and code that only the Temple archivists could translate, the species and people who had given birth to them long since died out. There was such an immense feeling of age and history in the Archives and Obi-Wan found it comforting, to be surrounded by so much wisdom. If the Jedi were great it was partially due to the breadth and depth of their knowledge housed on Coruscant.

The terminal before Obi-Wan chimed and he peered down to see the results of his search, trying to temper his curiosity with the knowledge that he most likely wasn’t going to find anything.

Search query string: Family Name, Skywalker. Species, Human/Near-Human. Gender, Male.

Results: None.

Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh. “I thought not.”

He was about to pull up the recent history of Christophis, to see if he could find any oblique references to Master Ahsoka and Skywalker’s activities on the planet when his chronometer alarm went off. He reluctantly closed out of the terminal, following the instructions given to him by Master Nu, and pushed himself back from the table and returned his chair to its previous position.

Tucking his datapad under his arm, Obi-Wan hurried out of the Archive and loped off to his meeting with Masters Ahsoka and Plo Koon, his master’s first mission to Christophis forgotten for the time being.

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