#Jedi Mastery

[fogaminghub]

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[redjennies]

Kreia's warning about not trusting Visas Marr would be a lot more meaningful if it wasn't possible to max out her influence and light side points in literally your first two conversations with her entirely on accident. like you don't even have to leave the ship, and Visas is already like: "Friendship Ended with The Sith. The Exile is My Best Friend Now."

[roselightfairy]

becoming a Master is Jedi tenure. discuss.

[ebitenpura]

Sort of turning over thoughts in my head (and you've all seen enough of me yelling about swords lately) but even without the Inquisitor story, Eight and Talos already go way back -- before Talos ever meets the Inquisitor, Eight was often pirated from Intelligence to be Talos' bodyguard whenever he stumbled across dangerous knowledge or artifacts that would put a target on a humble archaeologist like him. they're good partners and good friends, and at first, Eight was not happy about being pulled into nonsense work for other branches, but as Talos tends to get wrapped up in situationsTM while gleefully chasing that spark of knowledge, things got rather...exciting and he found himself conscripted more and more on his expeditions (which he himself ended up liking and fostering his own fascination with the world which Talos studied). It's but one of the reasons why he expresses less derision towards Force-users compared to his other agent siblings.

This dynamic doesn't stop even when Eight is assigned to spy on Lord Zash (as my way of justifying him in the Inquisitor story) and even further beyond, where reuniting in the Alliance if the PC recruits both of them at the same time triggers a little cutscene where they happily point each other out, sort of like SCORPIO and Kaliyo.

I've also decided that whether in his own timeline of KOTFE/ET or a different Commander's, Eight's sword is one that he and Talos discovered on yet another scouting expedition to ancient ruins looking for Jedi remnants. They were too late to save the Jedi who sent the distress call from a remote planet of Je'daii ruins, and so unexpectedly ran into a trap of Zakuul Knights everywhere who had also intercepted the signal and lay in wait to try and capture the Outlander, but as Eight does, he protected both of them well enough-- but the situation was dicey enough that they had to hide in the Je'daii village.

Further discovery and Talos' nosey self revealed the site of many a Je'daii forge and one lone sword hidden under centuries of ash and dust, but Eight would note that it appeared to be unfinished, left on a whetstone all by itself. No sword guard, a misshapen piece strung together by wire above where the collar is supposed to be...it appeared the Jedi they'd come to rescue had spent all their lonely months trying to restore it. By this time, all the heavy fighting has long since snapped Eight's own vibroblade in two, so he takes it with him. It turns out to be the key to making it off-planet, as the original smith of the Je'daii sword made it as a lament to his people's descent into war and their own inability to find another way, and so left it as a gift to the future in the hopes that one day it would be used by someone unfettered by their mistakes, who walked the in-betweens and retained the strength that the smith lacked in their life. Eight's heart resonates with the force imbued into the blade, unbeknownst to him as this is, as he simply marvels at the craftsmanship and remarks that whoever made it put love and care into forging it, and decides that he'll be its custodian out of respect for the life that this one Je'daii lived. Talos urges him on to keep it and recreate the way it was used (mostly for his own anthropological studies), but also as a secret gift to his long-standing bodyguard of an agent who still walks with the soul of a warrior.

There's a lot of ruminating on the Force and the past during this little arc, and Eight is a bit starry-eyed by the thought that the Sith and the Jedi used to be one, like a confirmation to his dream of living side-by-side to both these respective cultures. He and Talos emerge from the gauntlet with a newfound appreciation for being tourists in this strange history, as well as the knowledge that someone from thousands of years prior could feel the same way you do now.

Anyways, long ramble aside, I really liked the idea that Eight's sword is still a Je'daii sword which opens his eyes to a bit of their storied past since he has little to no experience with Jedi but needs to understand them in his own way as well in order to truly live as part of their secret world. Like the red sageo cord on his belt dyed in the blood of Sith, I thought it'd be nice if he carried another's object of grief and unfulfilled wishes on his back like that.

There's something about ancient history and touching it as someone who has no relation to it that really speaks to me, and the idea of non-force users taking up their legacy is sweet, imo. Like we'll take care of you even when you're long gone. It's the kind of love that you don't really see between the Force-sensitive and Force-blind in-game.

And a sword must be used. It has no use without a wielder, even if its very existence is a question that cannot be answered on whether the world is better off without a weapon that can only be used for violence, good intentions aside. That sword was created to answer that very question, of which its blacksmith could not answer themselves and hoped for another to take up the blade in their place.

In that blade, Eight sees himself.

[meadowfics]

affair

anakin skywalker x f!reader

headcannons on having an affair with anakin skywalker

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!! anakin is not married to padme here!! reader is the married one. cheating! smut and details mentioned but its not the entire thing.

it didn't take long after you and anakin first met when he admits he couldn’t stop watching you in those senate halls.

you didn't push him away, his breath was warm against your skin as he confesses everything he'd want to do for you.

that started everything.

however, you had a husband.

that didn't stop the chosen one.

months go by and the both of you create subtle signals to communicate secretly.

a quick tuck of your hair behind your ear during a senate session means you’ll meet him later, anakin leaves a single nabooan white flower on your desk, a sign he’s waiting in coruscant’s lower levels in the city.

your getaways to naboo’s lake country are your sanctuary.

anakin secures hidden villas by the water, where you spend days swimming in crystal lakes and nights wrapped in each other’s arms under starlit skies.

anakin’s touch is intense, his hands mapping every inch of you like he’s memorizing you.

in naboo’s soft grass, he takes you with a hunger that leaves you breathless, his lips whispering your name against your skin as if it’s a prayer.

on coruscant, you steal moments in abandoned senate storage rooms.

he presses you against the wall, his kisses desperate, hands sliding under your senatorial robes, the thrill of being caught fueling the fire.

after one of his jedi mission that left him away from you for six months.. he gifted you a delicate necklace, a tiny silver star from naboo, hidden beneath your high collars.

you wear it always, a secret tether to him, your fingers brushing it when your husband’s cold presence suffocates you.

anakin’s force sensitivity makes your encounters electric.

he senses your mood, knowing when to be gentle or when to match your need with fierce passion.

the jedi knight loves when his fingers are laced with yours as he brings you to the edge.

you confess your fears one night on naboo, lying in bed with the moonlight spilling over you.

anakin listens, his arms tight around you, promising he’d tear the galaxy apart to keep you safe from your husband’s corruption.

maybe a jedi knight shouldn't have those thoughts, but this relationship broke all of the rules anyways.

the sex varies.

sometimes it is slow, with lingering touches and whispered confessions.

other times it is frantic, like in a coruscant speeder after a close call, where he takes you in the backseat, both of you trembling from adrenaline and desire.

anakin writes you coded messages, slipped into your diplomatic files, filled with poetic declarations of love.

you read them in your chambers, heart racing, knowing each word risks everything.

you share quiet moments too, like watching naboo’s twin moons rise, your head on his chest.

he talks of a future where you’re free, his voice soft but fierce with conviction, painting a life you both ache for.

in the villa’s candlelit baths, he washes your hair, his fingers gentle, kisses trailing along your shoulders.

these tender acts feel as intimate as your passionate nights, binding you closer.

your husband’s suspicions grow as the years go by, forcing you and anakin to be more cautious.

once, he nearly catches you in a senate balcony, but anakin’s quick thinking (using the force to distract him) saves you, though the close call leaves you both shaken.

anakin’s black robes, a symbol of his jedi mastery, become your obsession.

you love peeling them off him, revealing the man beneath.

anakin's scars and strength is yours to worship in the privacy of your escapes.

despite the danger, you can’t stop.

every touch, every stolen night, feels like defiance against your cage.

anakin’s love is your rebellion, and you’d burn it all down to keep him, even if the galaxy crumbles.

one night, in your private vacation home on naboo, tucked among blooming gardens, anakin leads you to the grand bed draped in silken sheets, his eyes dark with want.

he undresses you slowly, reverently, murmuring, “you’re perfection, my star.”

the naboo moonlight streams through the windows as he lays you down, his hands trembling with need yet gentle, praising, “no one else could ever have me like this, y/n, you’re my everything.”

anakin's kisses trail fire across your skin, each one a vow.

your bodies move together in a rhythm that’s both desperate and sacred, anakin’s voice husky as he gasps, “you feel like heaven, love, I’d give up everything just to stay here like this forever.” his words unravel you, the intensity building until you’re both lost in each other.

afterward, he holds you close, your bodies tangled in the warm afterglow, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

your husband never found out, even after you left him and secretly married anakin shortly afterwards.

masterlist

[rapunziedameron]

Heeded my words not, did you? Pass on what you have learned. Strength… mastery…but weakness… folly… failure, also. Yes, failure most of all. The greatest teacher, failure is. Luke… we are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters.

STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI (2017)

[saphronethaleph]

Longform Statistical Analysis

“Master Nu,” Windu said, with a smile. “It’s nice to see you in the Council Chambers once more.”

“Thank you,” the librarian replied, inclining her head. “Unfortunately, I bring dire news.”

“...you do?” Windu asked, worried now. “What kind of dire news?”

“Dire news coming out of the library is usually either trivial or an absolute disaster,” Ki-Adi-Mundi contributed. “Which is it, so we can decide how worried to be?”

“Quite possibly, both,” Nu told him. “To summarize… Masters, two years ago we discovered that the Sith were not extinct. With this in mind, I have been engaged on a long-term project – I evaluated data about the discovery, admittance, tenure and ultimate loss of every single Jedi for which we have data. Every one in our archives.”

“Now I understand why it took so long,” Even Piell said. “In fact, I credit your skills for taking so little time. That must have been… what, a thousand years… there are ten thousand knights now… hundreds of thousands of Jedi total?”

“Around that,” Nu confirmed. “But the problem is… this. This is the number of active Jedi at any one time, during the first hundred years after Ruusan.”

Her holoprojector activated, showing a kind of flow diagram made out of strands of light. Light yellow marked those newly discovered and accepted as initiates, green padawans, blue for knights and purple marked those who were masters. The tiny Order, wounded but triumphant in the years immediately after Ruusan, was reborn and swelled as it gained more members and those members it had reached greater degrees of Mastery.

“Two hundred years,” Nu went on, as the diagram swelled and zoomed out. The growth was slower now, harder to see on the same scale, but the Order pulsed in colours of green and blue and purple as the Golden Age of the Republic continued.

“...you said this was dire?” Adi Gallia asked.

“We’ll get there,” Nu said, accelerating the projection a little.

As it ran forwards, decade after decade passing by until it approached the present, Master Yaddle leaned forwards in her seat.

She wasn’t the only one. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the Jedi Order – which had swelled to enormous, triumphant scale during the Golden Age – had begun to contract again.

By the time it reached the present day, it still possessed deep reserves of strength, but the colouring was… just a little different. The purple of Mastery was less common, though the blues and greens of Knighthood and Padawan were still fully present, and Nu manipulated her controls a bit more.

A second strand appeared, this one much thinner and more intermittent. And, as time tracked towards the present, it went from a shading of mostly blue hundreds of years ago to shades that were a little more green.

“This is the members of our Order who left our ranks due to their death,” Nu explained. “While the differences year-to-year are so minor that I would hesitate to describe them as meaningful, when given the long view and looked at in aggregate the effect is clear.”

She folded her arms. “The Sith faced by Knight Kenobi is the anomaly – an open Sith attack which makes no pretensions as to what they are. This is what I would call a true threat, Councillors. Not a single Sith who seeks to kill individual Jedi in a duel, but a centuries-long program of gradual, subtle, pervasive damage to the Jedi Order, chiefly through the loss of Padawans before they become Knights.”

“You think the Sith are behind this?” Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

“Behind any given casualty?” Nu asked. “...no. I have no proof I could offer, though a detailed examination of the loss of any given Padawan may conclude that there was some other factor behind their death. Behind the whole pattern? I think it’s quite possible, Master Mundi. We know the Sith can plot and plan for something for a thousand years, and there are only two targets for such a plot that make any sense – ourselves, and the Republic.”

She met the gaze of each councillor in turn. “If this is not due to the Sith, my friends, then we must ask ourselves – what is? They have been doing something for ten centuries and we know nothing about it.”

After a slightly dismayed silence, Yoda tapped his gimmer stick on the floor.

“Much to think about, we have,” he said. “Master Nu – more to say, have you?”

“Yes,” Nu replied. “My presentation, I hope, serves as a reminder that the Sith did not appear out of nowhere two years ago. They have been doing things over the last thousand years, and it is quite possible that we have run into their machinations without identifying them as such… it would be a great mistake to generalize from the Sith defeated by Knight Kenobi.”

“...hmm,” Windu said, frowning. “During the interrogations of Nute Gunray. He said that his actions were based on a shadowy figure pressing him to get a treaty signed by Queen Amidala of the Naboo. That treaty would have benefitted the Trade Federation, but nobody else.”

“The wording of the treaty, benefit the Trade Federation, it would,” Yaddle said. “The existence of the treaty – benefit someone else, perhaps?”

In his office, Sheev Palpatine paused halfway through reading a law.

He had the strange feeling that he’d just been betrayed by his greatest ally. But that was nonsense, since the closet thing he had left to a true ally was paperwork…

[padmesweetheart]

Master of walking?

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Girlfriend reader

Warnings: Clumsy Anakin

It was supposed to be a simple task. A peaceful walk through the gardens of the Jedi Temple, a moment of quiet. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the peaceful grounds, and you thought maybe, just maybe, today would be the day you’d enjoy the calm serenity of the temple.

That is, until you heard it.

“Ow!”

You turned just in time to see Anakin —your usually graceful, heroic, and extremely talented Jedi boyfriend—trip over his own feet and fall face-first into a flower bed.

You blinked.

“Anakin?”

He groaned from the ground, his arms flailing dramatically as he attempted to push himself upright. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I meant to do that!”

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing. Anakin slowly stood up, his face covered in petals, trying to brush himself off, but only managing to get dirt on his tunic.

“It’s not funny,” he muttered, wiping the flowers off his shoulders. “I’m perfectly coordinated, I swear.”

You chuckled, offering him a hand to help him up. “Are you sure? Because I just saw you trip over a nonexistent rock.”

“I didn’t trip! I was—uh, performing a very advanced Jedi maneuver.” He tried to stand up with a flourish, only to stumble again, this time directly into a nearby fountain.

“Anakin!” you exclaimed, rushing over as he flailed in the water.

He splashed around like a panicking Bantha. “I… I can explain! I’m… I’m doing a… water meditation! Yes, yes, very… focused!”

You held back another laugh as you pulled him out of the fountain, soaking wet and grinning sheepishly. “Water meditation, huh? I think you’ve invented a new form of self-sabotage meditation.”

Anakin wiped his face, dripping water everywhere, and sighed dramatically. “I’m cursed. The Force has it out for me.”

“No, you’re just incredibly clumsy,” you teased. “But don’t worry, I’m here to help. Maybe we should stick to something less dangerous… like walking.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I’ll have you know I’m a master at walking!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Master? Anakin, you’ve tripped over air three times in the past five minutes.”

Anakin grinned, dripping wet and completely unbothered. “Well, maybe that proves my mastery. The Force works in mysterious ways, after all.”

You shook your head, still chuckling. “You’re something else, Skywalker.”

“And that’s why you love me,” he said, flashing a playful smile.

“Mm, that’s debatable,” you replied, ruffling his damp hair as you walked him toward the temple entrance. “But today, I’ll admit, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Anakin smiled brightly, despite his soggy state. “See? It’s all part of my charm.”

And as he stumbled once again (this time intentionally for dramatic effect), you couldn’t help but laugh, thinking to yourself, What on Earth did I get myself into with this guy?

[gffa]

I have decided that I'm going to climb up onto the hill and defend the idea that it was Plagueis who first told Qimir that, in order to complete his Sith training, he must kill a Jedi without a weapon and that Qimir never really understood what he meant by that. Because Qimir apparently meant it literally, that he intended Mae to kill a Jedi with the Force, to prove mastery over it or what have you, that he applied the same logic to Osha when she Force choked Sol to death. But that's such a boring answer, the Force can be a weapon! A much more interesting twist is that Plagueis meant Qimir was meant to kill the Jedi inside himself, that Qimir was once a Jedi and that's not easy to shake off, you have to truly murder a part of yourself and give up everything that once made you an honorable, caring, compassionate person. And given how much Qimir seems desperate for care and connection, I'm not sure he's managed it. And he passes the same half-learned Sith lesson to Osha--she kills a Jedi with the Force, sure. But the real step forward she made was killing the Jedi within herself. She killed a defenseless man who was no threat to her, because she was angry about what he'd done and that he hadn't told her. It was an act of pure rage and selfishness, it was an act of evil, it was an act of the Sith. An act that killed the Jedi that Osha once was. That was the real lesson Plageuis had passed on to Qimir, who passed it on without truly understanding it himself.

[leftoverpages]

Split Away

Pairing ✦ Qimir x Jedi!reader

Tags ✦ angst, reader uses she/her but no physical description, romantic subtext

Notes: Written while listening to Haunted by Taylor Swift

Wordcount ✦ 854

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the silent, forgotten halls of an ancient temple on the outskirts of the galaxy, Qimir stood amidst crumbling stone and the lingering whispers of forgotten lore. His journey had taken him far from the bustling centers of power, where he had immersed himself in the teachings of darkness and dominance. Yet, amidst the echoes of his training, there remained a haunting memory — the Jedi who had once crossed his path like a shimmering mirage.

Y/N, a Jedi Knight dedicated to the ideals of peace and justice, had encountered Qimir during a rare moment of truce amidst the galaxy's relentless conflicts. Her presence, a beacon of unwavering light, had sparked a tumultuous conflict within him. He had been drawn to her compassion, her steadfast belief in a goodness he believed himself unworthy of.

Tonight, as he knelt in contemplation before a pool of shimmering reflection crystals, he sensed her approach — a ripple in the Force that stirred the stagnant air of the ancient temple. She entered the chamber cautiously, her blue lightsaber casting a serene glow against the weathered stone walls.

"Qimir," her voice was soft yet firm, cutting through the silence. "I've been searching for you."

He turned to face her, his expression guarded yet betraying a flicker of turmoil. "And now that you've found me?" His tone was tinged with bitterness, a stark contrast to the curiosity that had once drawn him to her.

"I thought I had you figured out," she confessed quietly, her eyes searching his for a glimpse of hope she had believed in. "But something's changed. Something's made your eyes go cold."

Qimir's jaw clenched, the weight of his choices heavy upon his shoulders. "The darkness has always been a part of me," he admitted, his voice a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I cannot deny who I am."

She took a tentative step forward, her gaze a mixture of sorrow and determination. "You have a choice, Qimir," she urged gently, her words carrying a plea that echoed in the chamber's stillness. "You don't have to surrender to this path."

His resolve hardened, a mask of indifference settling over his features. "The dark side offers power beyond your comprehension," he countered, his voice a whisper that cut through the tension between them. "You Jedi are too blinded by your ideals to see the truth."

In that moment, Qimir made his choice — to embrace the darkness that had beckoned him since childhood, to forsake the fragile connection he had forged with this Jedi. He turned away, a testament to his newfound allegiance.

The reader's gaze faltered, betrayal etched across her features as she realized the depth of Qimir's descent into darkness. "I trusted you," she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of shattered faith.

Qimir met her gaze with steely resolve, the echoes of their shared history drowned out by the thunderous beat of his own heart. "You thought you had me figured out," he echoed, his voice tinged with bitter irony. "But some paths lead only to darkness."

In the abandoned temple, where secrets whispered and alliances shattered like glass, he embraced his destiny as a Sith, leaving behind the echoes of a Jedi whose light had once illuminated the path he had forsaken.

As the darkness closed around them, the reader retreated with a heavy heart, leaving behind the shattered remnants of trust and hope. Qimir watched her departure with conflicted emotions, knowing that he had chosen a path that would forever divide them. Yet, in the depths of his soul, a seed of doubt lingered — a whisper of regret for the bond he had forsaken in pursuit of power.

Days turned into weeks, and the echoes of their encounter haunted Qimir's dreams. The allure of the dark side promised strength and mastery, yet the memory of the her unwavering gaze lingered like a ghost in the shadows of his consciousness. He immersed himself deeper into the teachings, honing his skills with ruthless determination, yet finding no solace in the victories that came at the cost of his soul.

Meanwhile, across the galaxy, Y/N grappled with the aftermath of Qimir's betrayal. Her faith in the Jedi Order remained unshaken, yet the sting of betrayal cut deep. She delved into her missions with renewed purpose, her resolve tempered by the lessons learned from their momentary but memorable encounters. The path of light remained her guiding star amidst the darkness that threatened to consume the galaxy.

In the quiet moments between battles, she reflected on him — torn between two worlds, the whisper of potential lost to the allure of power. She harbored no hatred for him, only a profound sadness for the choices that had driven them apart. As she meditated beneath the canopy of stars, she sent a silent prayer to the Force, hoping that one day, Qimir would find redemption and reclaim the light that had once burned within him.

And amidst the vast expanse of the galaxy, where destinies intertwined and conflicts raged, the echoes of their encounter continued to resonate, a testament to the enduring power of choices made and paths diverged.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

A Jedi's Weapon

I've been thinking about Lightsabers recently. Everyone knows them, everyone likes them, and I'm pretty sure everyone reading this wanted one when they were a kid. But lately, I've been thinking about what they represent.

Lightsabers are weapons, yes, but it's not their only function. They are useful tools, and not only in combat, but in everyday life to light fires, to cut down the branches of trees when your travelling through a forest, etc. But most of all, I like the symbolism and the meaning they have for the people of the galaxy.

Everyone can pick up a blaster and shoot. And although aiming is harder, it's nowhere near the level of difficulty that achieving mastery in lightsaber combat is. Lightsaber dueling has several forms, all of them unique and useful depending on the situation and the individual, which is amazing if you think about it hard enough.

Blasters are almost always used to kill. Sure, there are stun blasters, and Jedi do seem to be able to use them when the situation calls for it (Obi-Wan killing Grievous with a blaster in ROTS immediately comes to mind). But, if you want to defend yourself with a blaster, the only thing you can do is shoot back, aka aiming for the kill, kill them before they kill you. That's why Luke using a blaster is portrayed as a sign that he's not a Jedi yet, that's why Ezra using a blaster instead of reconstructing his lightsaber/blaster hybrid is used to signify a dangerous shift in his thinking.

Lightsabers are dangerous, yes, but the greatest danger doesn't come from your opponent attacking you before you can lift your weapon. Even Force-adepts have quicker ways to kill you if that's what they wanted to do (look at how often Vader actually uses his lightsaber in the OT, for example, the only person he kills with it is Obi-Wan and that's because Obi-Wan let himself be killed; very clearly, Vader prefers Force Choking, which is entirely fair).

The greatest danger of a lightsaber comes from your own blaster bolts being reflected right back at you. That is a good incentive to surrender and solve things in relative peace, instead of a firefight. Even if that's not enough to stop you, even if you shoot anyways, it gives you some pause, which a blaster can't do.

When it maims, it cauterizes the wound, which prevents you from dying of bloodloss and makes it easier to find medical treatment (think of Luke in ESB).

When it kills, it kills fast and immediately, if your opponent knows where to hit. (Think of Qui-Gon in TPM, where he gets to say his last words to Obi-Wan and doesn't seem to be in much pain).

Dexter says this, in Jedi Apprentice. What the lightsaber represents to the people. Hope, safety, there's someone to protect us now… unless you are the one opposing the Jedi, of course. No other weapon inspires so much hope and fear.

It's a weapon it takes a lot of time and effort to master. It's almost a self-imposed limitation.

It's a weapon with sacred value, unlike many others. It's a unique weapon connected to its user's soul. It's a weapon which is used to protect, to defend. It's a sword used as a shield.

It's the weapon of a Jedi.

A more elegant weapon, from a more civilized age.

[fogaminghub]

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Get ready to show Vader what you’ve got! 

[evilminji]

Know what's been haunting me? And my Yandere loving brain?

What if... an SI-OC? Fffffucked UP™?

Like? STRAIGHT up "....Oh No. I have? GRAVELY miscalculated."? Cause? And I'm probably wrong here, or forgetting nuisances, but? Dooku? Left the order and began his Fall? NOT because he disagreed with the vast majority of Jedi philosophy... but?

Because of what the Jedi had BECOME.

Senate attack dogs. Indentured servants. Following NOT the Force or their Orders Mandate, but a mere GOVERMANT. Politicians. Straight into ruin and slaughter no less! It was vile. Corrupt. A perversion and degradation of HIS beloved Jedi Order.

He was proud and filled with grief, isolated. Palpatine chose well.

But! He was ALSO a Master Jedi with DECADES of Mastery under his belt. You do not become that with out clear vision of what you want. Who you ARE. And Dooku? Very CLEARLY planned on winning. Killing Sidious and taking his place. An unfortunate necessity, really. In his Grand Plan™.

Too?

Start over, obviously.

Instead of just leaving and starting a NORMAL Religious Schism, building a temple on Serrano, and publicly calling his old Council members lil bitchs. Slap fighting in the town square, as is traditional. Maybe sending pass aggressive notes back and forth in the hands of increasingly spoiled Padawan, because OUR temple at least FEEDS these POOR WAIFS. Etc etc?

Dude went the SITH route. Of... you know... "kill everybody".

Bit extreme. Just saying.

However! Dooku? Not well! In fact, DEEPLY unhinged and masterfully hiding it! Because he is, in fact, a MASTER jedi! And know how to fucking DO THAT. So that slow creep of Deepyly Crazy? No one sees it. Gives ya time to miss the countdown to Boom, as it were.

Which leads to our dearly beloved SI. She? Is a well meaning IDIOT. She can't help it. It's the Force, man. All that feel good juice, clogging up her brain! Making her? Optimistic! Vaguely perky! Wanting to see the GOOD in people!!!

Disturbing, she knows. But it is what it is.

And MASTER Dooku? Feels? Stern but warm. Stalwart. Like one of those ancient trees or great temples in a quite moment. Old and powerful, not necessarily KIND, but certainly not UNKIND. Just... fussy, you know? Proper. Collected and self contained. Doesn't like messy and dirty and needless noise.

So... what's an itty bitty Crecheling to do? To stop this Respected Master from falling? Well... Yoda seems to think "babies" works? And SHE is Baby...

Better scrub down so I'm EXTRA not "why are all children so... sticky?" and make my self look as presentable as possible. Then? Plan: Stalk the Respected Master Dooku Like A Duckling is a GO~! Yoda finds this INSTANTLY hilarious. Starts feeding her insider information (One of his many, later Great Regrets).

Dooku likes THIS tea. Meditates in THIS garden. Ask him about THIS subject, no one listens to him rant about it, he'll enjoy lecturing you about it for HOURS. She actually learns quite a lot! Man's a good teacher. And SHE? Is a dutiful, polite, thoughtful, shining young paragon example of what he feels the Jedi SHOULD be.

She LISTENS. Unlike his foolish peers. She tries to better herself, day by day, instead of running around screaming and playing in mud. Asks after etiquette from the courts he's traveled too, so she does not offend in the future. Does not react with blind disgust to questions others would deem heretical!

Instead? SHE comes from a JEDI place of approach with compassion and consultation of the Force. What creates the most GOOD? How can we strive for the kindest, most ethical, most equal social possible? What brings the universe the most Light? Where do OUR duties end and the duties of OTHERS begin, and when is it time to call them on their failings, should there be any?

It is? Delightful~ if he were not already committed to his path, he would seriously consider taking her on as a Padawn. Like the Granddaughter he never had. In FACT? He is conflicted. While he does not wish to lose the bright little light he has become so accustomed too? He should probably do what is best for her.

He IS leaving after all. Eventually. Perhaps after Qui-Gon finally knights his own padawn. He can convince the man to come with him. A talk between them has been so very, very long overdue. And the man is like a son to him. Young Obi-Wan is a fine young Jedi. Upstanding and collected, could use a bit of tempering. Outrageous flirt. It would be hilarious.

It's a good plan.... right up until it isn't.

Until the Council's BLINDNESS lead his SON to dying alone. For Sidious little games. And the place in HIS chosen lineage is USURPED by some WHINY SAND COVERED BRAT who can not CONTROL himself! No. NO.

Absolutely Not.

As far as HE is concerned? HIS lineage? Goes him, Qui-gon, Obi-Wan, and then SI-OC. No Sand Brat. Is he spiraling? Oh yes. Has been for a while. But now? NOW someone just kicked out a major support beam. The building is a'shaking. SI-OC is worried. Knows this could make or break his Fall.

Doesn't realize that ship has sailed LONG before she arrived.

Jedi Master's do not Fall over night. It is the slow erosion that kills them. Death by ten thousand cuts. He was already thousands deep. Bleeding and bleeding, beyond her abilities to heal. Yoda could have changed things. He is a Master. But a mere Crecheling? An untrained child? No. She stood no chance.

Does not realize that, as she stands in the heart of the storm. The center of the bear trap. As composed Master Dooku grieves and rages, hair disheveled and robes a mess. No, he can not come to the comm right now. No, he is not taking visitors, thank you. Please, Master Dooku. Please! Drink some tea? Eat? Something. Anything. I beg you.

It is a focal point. An anchor to cling to, in that great Fall. As SI-OC fusses with blankets and music that might help, pressing her small and fragile light against his shields like a comforting weight. As though trying to protect him from the pain. As though ANYTHING could protect him.

Sits with him, in remembrance.

Comes with him, to the funeral.... where stands the sand brat. At HER Master's side. As though enough has not been stolen. How dare he? How dare THEY? To allow this!? Hatred festers. Rage. The mania that Darkness brings. He sees now. Ooooo ho ho, does he now see.

The Order has become Rotten. It cannot be saved. The Jedi have lost their way.

The old must be purged... and they must begin again.

It's all so CLEAR now. So simple. The path forward. Its so obvious now, HE is not leaving, oh no, THEY are leaving. It would be madness to leave a vulnerable Crecheling in such unfettered corruption. Exposed to the nonexistent mercies of Sidious and his ilk. Not to mention, Force knows what filth they'd attempt to stuff in her head behind his back!

Knight Kenobi is an adult. Can comport himself and defend his person. SI-OC can not. She is just a youngling. Should have BARELY been a padawn. But... things have changed.

SI-OC fall asleep, comfortable and certain she is perfectly safe, in MASTER Dooku's apartments. Just another Tea Time and obscure Force Philosophy lecture. Maybe some hands-on etiquette lessons. There are many, MANY different ways to take tea. And... man... the room is so cozy. Always so comfortable and tastefully inviting. Warm an... an snoozy... feelin... *thunk of a small child falling over, dead to the world*

Drugged? Sleep suggestion? Soothing bedtime tea? Yes. Yes, he did. She stood literally negative chances. He scoops up HIS granddaughter and leaves droids to pack the rest. Tucks her under his cloak. No one thinks to even check. Who would? He is trusted. Respected. It is well known how he dotes upon the child. Old age has softened him, some jest.

The dangers of attachment indeed. But it is not HIM who is in danger. It is HER who his attachment endangers. Because he can not let go. WILL NOT. Because it can crossed from caring to obsessive. Possessive. To mine, mine, mine.

Children are not property. Not toys or trophies. Teddy bears to squeeze until your hurt stops. They are living, breathing, entities in their own right. Which is something a JEDI would be able to accept. The SITH? No. No, see, his Great-grandpadawn is HIS. This is HIS family. HIS Jedi order. HIS plan to "fix" everything.

She done fucked up.

She wakes up on a ship to Serrano with COUNT Dooku.

His... his eyes turn Interesting Colors now. Ha ha... she is... staying Very Calm. It is REALLY important to stay VERY calm. No sudden movements. We Do Not startle the Darksider! Eeeeeeverones FRIENDS here! R-Right?

Oh of course. Nothing to be worried about, dear. You're just going to his Manor until the NEW temple is finished. (Neat. Terrifying. So, SO many horrifying parts of that sentence). And SI-OC? Pulls the good ol "never argue with the crazy person with a gun" technique. Smile and Nod! Mmmmhmmm! G-great! Can't wait!

(Oh god, help me)

War breaks out. She's on THE Separatist planet. But not? Before crazy grandpa? Has hired bounty hunters to find him force sensitive kids. You know, for the NEW Jedi order. Because we're all pretending here. Smile and nod, fellow hostages. For the love of the Force, smile and nod.

She's not entirely even certain half these children were from families that WANTED to give them up. It makes her sick to think about.

She still has to have Tea Time. Because she, a child, is the HEAD of the New Order. And he has decades of Jedi knowledge to impart. Also? Lonely and fixating. We're a happy family. Because I say so and have hostages. That's why you love you, don't you dear? *SI-OC with a wide, terrified hostage smile* mmmmhmm!

The Jedi? Have figured out what happened. Crecheling mysteriously disappeared at the same time a Count Dooku? They originally thought she tried to follow him. Got lost or grabbed by slavers. But now... NOW? Oh Force they know they horrifying truth. The Darksider stole a CHILD.

Everyone remembers SI-OC. She was the sweet little duckling. Well behaved and polite. A kind child. Worried for Count Dooku. And now look at what's happened?! The CIS is trotting out the "head" or their "new order" and it's their lost Crecheling. Now a teenager. Terror in her eyes and a fixed jedi smile.

The Creche Masters have to be physically dragged away from stealth ships. (They're just going to talk! They're jUST GOING TO TAL-!!!) Plo Koon is fucking HELPING and that's NOT helpful! No, your commander do NOT have "a point"! You can not do just a "little bit" of murder as "a treat"!

A certain Quinlan Vos? Never heard of him, of course, rocks up to this New Order with a smoothie. Has betrayed the OLD order and the Republic. Definitely for realisies and not because he's here to spy! Heeeeey, kiddo. How you holding up?

Answer? Oh THANK GOD, AN ADULT JEDI! Halp! Followed by gross sobbing. So... you know... not GREAT. Wouldn't recommend it.

But! The INTEL. Sweet holy shit, kid. Chips. Palpatine. Dooku behind the Clones. Everything ELSE she's quietly been noting down. Uuuuh, yeah. Yeah that WILL be... real useful.... Holy shit. No, seriously, give him a second. Just like that? Huh. Didn't even have to convince you. Wow. Okay.

Well then! Let's fuck over some Sith!

How the Shadows go about it? Probably very action movie and nail biting. High octane. Sweet big budget cgi effects. They get the De-chipped clones involved. Fox gets to finally, FINALLY shoot his boss. Never a happier man. He deserves it.

But that's not important. What IS? Is Quinlan Vos? Showing up to the Temple, with a burger and smelling strongly of smoke, and like.... over 450 force sensitive younglings, teenage and below. And probably a litter of tookas. Because what? Were they supposed to LEAVE them?

She takes One(1) step into the temple and gets hit with like? Three generations of Guilt Complexes. Man Pain. Yoda, Obi-Wan, AND Anikin? Mother FUCKER, you were 9! What were you supposed to DO? Bite him?! You literally JUST GOT HERE. *SI-OC has used Logic against Skywalker Guilt... it is not very effective!*

When? When will she be freeeeeeee? Cannon Yoda had the right idea.

She should go hide in a fucking SWAMP.

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes @hypewinter @mayfay @hdgnj

[panickedscribbles]

I've been thinking about Star Wars discourse lately, and I think a lot of the reason so much of the fandom is constant back and forth arguments is because a lot of the time, two characters can be right simultaneously while also disagreeing completely with each other.

Take the whole "Too old, he is" thing.

On one hand, obviously wrong. Anakin is nine, he's at most a few years behind, and textually managed to catch up pretty well. Like, if Palpatine and the Sith Plan weren't constantly messing him up, there is every possibility that Anakin could have become a well adjusted Jedi. Nine is by no means too old to learn a skill.

On the other hand, the council demonstrates perfectly in that scene that they are completely unequipped to deal with a nine year old who hasn't been raised in their culture, especially one from a heavily traumatized background. The pop-quiz they ask him would be perfectly acceptable for a nine-year-old youngling, but Anakin literally just walked in. They are giving an end-of-year exam to a kid who has never even seen a school. And they assume this is fine, because that's just what you do with nine-year-olds.

More to the point, they are completely failing to take into account the previous nine years of his life. They ask a kid, who up until all of about 18 hours ago had been enslaved since birth, to be open and honest about his emotions, in a room full of complete strangers, most of whom answer to "Master"! They have somehow engineered a situation so psychologically damaging that Palpatine is taking notes in the corner, entirely without realizing. When the council says they shouldn't take him in, they are one hundred percent right. Nine is WAY too old when you've spent that time as a slave, and are being entrusted into the care of people who have never had to raise a nine year old who wasn't raised like they were.

Or how about Anakin not being made a master. Was he right to insist he get the title, or was the council.

Well, Anakin should be made a master, you see, because,

He's one of the main Generals fighting and coordinating the war

And he's one of their most successful warriors. Like, he's the guy they call in whenever they need an impossible mission completed

He's more or less the face of the war effort, as "The Hero Without Fear"

As an ex-slave, obtaining the title of Master would be a huge psychological weight lifted off his shoulders.

Since they're making him part of the council for espionage purposes, making him a master as well serves as better cover

Giving him more reason to stay loyal to the Jedi after they just asked him to betray the trust of one of his oldest and closest friends wouldn't be the worst idea

Like, if ever there was a reason to give someone a promotion, those are some pretty good ones.

However, on the opposite side of the issue, literally none of that has any bearing on "Mastery" as the Jedi define it. Being a Jedi Master is all about mastery over oneself, having a deep understanding of the force, and a certain level of inner peace.

You'll notice that at no point does being really good at large-scale violence, being well known for being really good at large-scale violence, or wanting it a lot factor into being made a Jedi Master. Everything Anakin is good at, Everything Palpatine, and the war, and the council have pushed Anakin into being good at, do nothing to bring him any closer to Mastery, and in fact often push him further away from it.

In both of these examples, you can make a very compelling argument in either direction. Hell, you can make a compelling argument in both directions at the same time. And I think that's really neat.

[intermundia]

in defense of padawan haircuts: do ewan and hayden both have lovely hair that is part of what makes them ever so beautiful? yes. but padawans are monks in training so they're not supposed to be fuckable treats for the eye. they have funky hair that marks them as members of their order!! awkward, uncool, unlovely haircuts that make them look like dork ass home-schooled losers. their silly braids advertise the length of time they've studied as a proxy for their deepening commitment to the order and mastery of the jedi arts!! they have a stubby lil nerf tail because it's traditional and tradition is sometimes awkward (and idk some cultures actually enjoy hair in that style!! they're not supposed to look like usamericans maybe) and like.. the order also maybe doesn't want its baby jedi to be fashionable trend setters with glossy flowing locks for good reason!! look what happened when anakin was too pretty!! he was so fuckable it broke the system and ruined his life and the entire fuckin galaxy, maybe the council should have made his haircut worse. his hair should have been so deeply tragic it distracted padmé from his sharp jaw and pouty lips. obi-wan should have completely nuked his charisma stat from orbit before shipping him away to naboo (his game was already terrible, so he was halfway there!! just make him terrible to look at too!!) sexy hair needs to be earned with knighthood, once they know you're truly committed to the jedi way. curls and mullets are a privilege not a right!! the padawan haircut is like training wheels for non-attachment, like.. leave them alone!! their brains aren't done cooking yet. their hair is so bad it's good, just like the prequels ok. i'm bleeding out on this hill but you. Cannot make me leave

[threepandas]

Counting Down: 1 [Next ->]

The worst part about knowing the end? Is the beginning and middle. The waiting to change. The hoping it can. Days, spent with the low fear, ever churning, that it will all make no difference. Your actions. Your plans. The hopes you have placed in Fate's fickle hands.

Entering the Creche at an awkward age, too soon to be Legend, too late to be Peer. I was destined to be an adult by the time Anikin arrived. Getting up there, by the time the Order fell. Not yet old enough to be an Elder... yet destined to never live long enough to see such an age.

Obviously, I refused.

Looked around, locked eyes on the closest most manageable Character Of Relevance and took a chance. After all, was it not? The Jedi WAY? To inconvenience the Sith at every turn? So... first Crecheling, then Initiate, then baby Padawan Me, tracked the poor man down. Hunted him for SPORT.

Meditate with me, Knight Dooku! Can you teach me about this or that, Knight Dooku? What is the correct use of seashell tongs in formal dining, when attending a formal feast with the aristocracy, during this specific religious holiday, Knight Dooku? (No, no, on the moon not the planet.)

Congratulations on you Mastery! Master Dooku!

Pushing and shoving my way into his life. Persistent, much to everyone's amusement, and his baffled chagrin. It was like befriending a fussy, regal looking, semi-feral cat. Force knows, for all his training, he's terrible at casual interactions. He was older them me, yes. And Mentor of sorts, certainly. For a time. But? We became... friendly? I like to think? I certainly chased him down enough.

He's a dramatic and awkward man, Yan, and he'd be lost without us; Sifo, Nu, and I. Occasionally Yoda, but that does come and go. Not to metion... well... his Padawans. (Damn it, Yan. They can't read the subtext from your pointed silences! Use your WORDS.) The sort of man who is... sturdy, but brittle. Like an old, unbending tree.

Which makes it all the worse, when the pressure becomes too much. Because it does not merely crack. No. No, such men? They shatter in terrible and unpredictable ways. Unbreakable right up until they are not. Unending right up until the crash.

It is...? Both tragic and hilarious, in a that way, that Yan should live surrounded by so many prophets. Yet he does not, can not, and never will see the end coming. Surrounded by legends, both old and new. Born with every marker for greatness. Yet he...? He will be considered little more then a footnote, in someone else's history. At best.

And the worst part of his Fall? The absolutely worst part? Is the Light I still feel, each time I look at him, the GOOD I know is there. Resolute and noble, dignified and full of grace. A diplomat. Expert swordsman. Makes magnificent tea. The driest wit imaginable. He... he is YAN. Not Count Dooku. Not some Sith Apprentice. Just... just Yan.

My friend.

I meditate on it a lot. The Force gives no clear answers. Still, I do try, sitting in the gardens. Tucked away several stories up, past the considerate veil of several sweeping branches. I never did succeed in figuring out which planet the tree hails from, I suspect it might be either a long dead one or some small moon. It's a truely lovely, sturdy, thing nonetheless.

Far below, younglings shriek and play growl. Running carefree, to work off energy before evening meditation. Each a tiny blaze of starlight dancing at the edge of my vision.

A bit bright, I note, but nothing concerning.

The Halls of Healing will have to increase my prescription again. My glasses are no longer blocking enough... I sigh. Considering that. My sight? Is at least partially genetic. While I may be predominantly human, just because someone looks human passing, doesnt mean they genetically are one. My ancestors were, to put it mildly, a bit... Mandalorian.

Where their was a will, there was apparently, a way; And now I pay the price for it. It's honestly a miracle they never "married", as it were, themselves into a genetic dead end. Some sort of metaphorical space mule scenario, as it were. Yet? Despite all that seeming success? Luck is not eternal. And should you keep gambling? Eventual you will roll poorly.

I was that poor hand. That unfortunate luck. Loved of course. Expected even. My parents both wanted and were delighted by me. But? I screamed. Could not bear to be near people. My inheritance? A truely unfortunate luck of the draw. When combine with Force Sensitivity? My eyes reacted to "Light" poorly. Very, VERY poorly.

They were blinding to me. A mere child with no shields to speak of, no Force training to push BACK with. Like being force to look direct at the sun, again and again. It HURT. Because I could See.

Where others saw merely flesh? I saw deeper. Not infalliblly, not perfectly, I was hardly some omniscient god, but... oh. Oh. The world was so Bright. So LUMINOUS. The Force swirling and burning and flowing. In everything, from humble to grand. People shine, and yes, it is beautiful. But it also? Hurts. Because it IS, ultimately, being forced to stare directly at bright, ever shifting, sometimes flickering LIGHT.

I have a lifelong disability. Can not FUNCTION without my filtering shade glasses.

Or, if you are one of the ignorant assholes, who even NOW still seek to use me? I have what you might call? A"gift~☆".

According to Healer Che, it was some highly recessive trait. (From a planet I honest didn't even know I had heritage on, much less could find on a navigation system.) A subterranean people, due to the truely ungodly surface conditions. VERY sensitive to energy signatures and light. Which...? When you slap on a whole NEW super special Force sensing ability? Filtered through the same brain? Wires unfortunately crossed.

It could have happened it anyone. Unfortunately, it happened to me. Now I'm effectively blind around large collections of sentients. Or Life in general, depending on the intensity. To say NOTHING of Force Nexus! Dear merciful FUCK, that was the sort of accident only you make ONCE and then NEVER again. I was lucky to keep my vision. At all. Full stop.

Sifo was not so lucky. His Visions being neither natural nor kind. The Force seizing him again and again, to plunge him into vivid scenes of carnage. Death and horrors in the home he so loved. I would would be forced to, should I fail, see the Fall of the Order once. But Sifo? Oh... oh, dear Sifo...

Sifo, had seen it fall ten thousand times.

Even Yan did listen to him. Not truely. But there is camaraderie, in the horrors. In whispering, "it's not their fault", through choking tears. Forgiving the victims that will one day kill us. There is... a certain, heavy, sort of friendship... born of pressing your foreheads together, fingers intertwined, knuckles white with terror, as you shudder in the dark.

I think it helped, helps, that he has someone, who believes him. Anyone. Not just humoring him, the mad man sprouting prophecies of doom. But truely believes him. Knows he is right. And that if nothing is done? Everyone will die.

But... BUT! It CAN NOT, be Kamino, Sifo. Not that, never that.

In the dark, I remind him of prophets, seeking to avoid their visions, and instead? Ensuring the worst, comes to pass. Defense, Sifo. Escape. We are JEDI. Do not let fear blind you, to who you ARE. Do not let it take down a path of darkness.

I wrap him in the Light. Tuck my Force presence close, like I'm hiding him again my side, a youngling tucked into the safety of my robe. Shhhh, my friend. It is okay to be afraid. I am too. We can do this together. We are not alone. I believe you.

We are the pillars of his mental health, Yan and I. It concerns the healers greatly. The council. Honestly? It concerns me. But what can I do? No one else CAN help Sifo, until the first take the step of recognizing he is not, in fact, insane. He is a perfectly SANE man, reacting in entirely reasonable ways, to unspeakable Nexus born horrors. Slowly cracking under the isolation and grief. A jedi pushed and pushed, far past the point lesser men would have broken.

And if? He need a woman young enough to be his one of his student's, to rely on? So be it. I am a Knight now, I can handle it. (I have been handling it, since the incident. Since I was a Crecheling. Where the fuck were all of YOU? Ah, that's right. Calling him insane. Making things WORSE.)

I breathe out slow and controlled. My meditation is getting me no where. Rising, I carefully hop down, using the Force to slow my fall, much to the awe of various Crechelings. I can not help but smile. Was I ever that small? So easily impressed? I bow to my tiny fellow jedi. Delighted, they scramble to bow back. Thrilled to show off how grown up and serious they are, how well down they can do it.

Reaching out with my senses, I look for Yan, politely avoiding doing more then the briefest brush as I reach past others. I am not the first, nor will I be the last. There are hundreds of such searches a day. Some clumsy and heavy handed, from Crechelings or Initiates. Some soft as brushing strands of silk. Knights or Masters, looking for friends, looking for students where the should not be.

The Temple feels alive, noisy even, when you know how to feel it.

Ah, there he is! Heading from the High Council's cha-Grief. Horror. A gutting pain that numbs and spreads.

Caught off gaurd, I am sent reeling. Stumbling, without grace, over my own feet into a nearby wall. Glad for it, as I desperately grab at my chest and wheeze, drawing the alarmed attention of nearby Knights and Guards. Because... because, the other direction? Had I stumbled in the other direction, I would have hit the railing. Fully doubt I... I would have been able t-too.... oh Force-!

It takes entirely too long to seperate my emotions from Yan's. To realize what's happening. My panic feeding into the pain. My pain feeding into the panic. Yan. S-Something happened to Yan! I manage to gasp it out. P-please! S.. Someone! Go! Go check on Master Dooku!

The world spins as I try to force air into my body. It refuses to come. Whatever horrible pain Yan is in, leeching down our connection. Into me. Hurting. Made so, SO much worse, by my having been actively looking for him. I close my eyes, teeth gritting, and trying to stop digging my nails into skin. I-It won't help. There's nothing physically there.

But it hurts! God, does it HURT!

It feels like my WORLD has been shredded. My heart, crushed, cruel and slow in my chest. H-he's having a panic attack. Has to be! Or-! Or being attacked! I d-don't... don't KNOW!

A passing Master has hurried over, now kneels next to me. Various Knights pushing whatever calm and safety the can at me. No one is quite certain what will help. But they try. Desperately, stubbornly, resolute to the last... they TRY.

Breathe with me, begs the Master. Pressing my hand to his chest. Just copy my breathing. Help is coming. Release what pain you can, into the Force. We will help you. Let us help you.

I try.

Desperately, I Try.

The Healers end up having to give us sedatives, Yan and I. Sifo ends up... worse. The entire event triggering another, nasty, round of visions. He is incoherent. Trapped. Staring up at the Death Star from the surface of Alderaan, through countless eyes, begging to be heard. His soul, small and desperate, replaying the end, over and over. Even as he tries to protect what souls he can from the inevitable.

He cries for this too. They won't believe him, I know. Even as he thrashs and begs. For the lives of the innocent to be spared, for monsters to hold their fire. I will though. I will. I always do.

But Sifo will be lost for days. Yan, however? As he sits, on the bed, just the other side me? Sits stiff and properly. Blankly. As the healers words wash over him. I doubt a single on has registered. Of the three of us, I am the only one even remotely functioning. Yet... yet I still, don't know what has happened.

Nodding one last time to the healer assigned to me. Promising that yes, I will most certainly rest. I slip my my bed and sweep over to stand next to Yan's. The Healer's concerned and frustrated. He knows Yan's not listening. But has to try. I shoot him a strained, closed lipped, smile. Quietly take charge of my unresponsive friend.

The Healers relief is palpable. Our notes and instructions are not terribly dissimilar. Rest, food, no missions or upsets. Got it.

Gently, I guide Yan from the Healing Halls. Alarmed, that he let's himself be led. He never let's himself be led like this. Insists he is no invalid, to be coddled. Yet... here he is. Mind a thousand parsecs away.

Bringing him to his rooms, I key in his code then gently guide him to his favorite chair. Lightly guide him down into it. Not... not once, during the entire walk back, has he responded to anything. I am beginning to grow afraid.

Fussing, I drag up that terribly pretentious Serranian musician, on his music system. The one I can't stand. I am worried. Sacrifices must be made. Boring and insipid music fills the room. Very fancy! Come on, Yan. This is his new piece! Don't you want to comment on it? Come, tell me why it's so much better then the racket youngling blast these days. I'll call you an old man...

Nothing.

Worry growing, I begin making his favorite tea. Digging out his special occasion snacks. Something, anything, to get a reaction. As things brew, a sound too wounded to truly be a laugh, chokes it's way out of him.

"Xana-...My..." he starts. Stops. Normally sharp mind refusing to obey him, as he tries to summon words. He looks lost.

"My Grand-Padawan is dead." His voice is brittle, alien sounding in his mouth. I nearly drop the plate of snacks I was carrying over, in response. Horrified. "He was supposed be returning a knight. Qui-gon was.. was so proud of him. Adored him. This has destroyed him. Will destroy all of us. I... I have lost everything."

No. No, you have NOT.

Striding forward and all but dumping the plate on the side table next to him, I reach for my friend with both hands. With my Force presence. I refuse. No, damn it! I Will NOT lose him. Not like this, not TOO this!

Listen. LISTEN to me, Yan Dooku. So help me Stars, Gods both big and small, you will not succumb to this!

The greatest lie the Dark has ever told, is that it will make things better. That it can help you with your pain. Would Xanatos want his death to destroy you? Would the child of your child, want his legacy to be the ruin of everyone he loved? It is okay to grieve. You NEED to grieve. But remember you Padawans. Remember their Padawans.

Your Lineage still lives, Yan Dooku.

It is hurting, mourning, but ALIVE. Don't you dare run from it in your grief. You are better then that. I am here. Sifo and Nu are here. Yoda, is here. We will carry this pain together, okay?

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest more heavily against my hands. Dampness darkened his eyelashes, but no true tears formed or fell. He didn't seem to have it in him. Not yet. His hands though... his hands? Shook as they slowly, haltingly, like a droid with seizing joints, reached out for me.

I moved from leaning over him to sitting on the arm rest of his fancy Serranian high backed chair. That he didn't even grumble over me "abusing his furniture" by putting weight on the arm rest like this? Gods.

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders. Like a shield against the universe. Used the Force to pull the tea, finally done, and pour it into a nice cup. Properly of course. See, Yan? I remember your lectures. Here, drink.

He... did not.

Just leaned, sagged against me, as he shuddered with grief. Hands wrapped around a cup of fragrant tea. Music filling the air. Tucked safe inside my Force presence, as best I could.

In... Out... In... Out... There was a slight stutter to it, a hitch, that in a less controlled man? Might have broken into a sob. But... instead, Yan meditated. That first cup going to waste. The second following, as it slowly went cold. Needs must, though, and tea? Can be replaced. Yan can not.

Emptying wasted cups, I poured more. Rested my head atop his own. Matched his breathing as I slipped into a light meditation with him. The room was quite enough. The position not terribly comfortable. But honestly? We'd both meditated under worse conditions, and it had been... A DAY.

To put it mildly.

I didn't like the look of Yan's Force Presence. It was like a fault line had been struck. Spreading terrible spiderwebbing cracks in otherwise sturdy stone. I was no mind healer... really, not a healer at all, I was a Seeker, but? I had learned a few tricks. After all, not every child I had found? Was found in a safe and loving home. Most weren't, honestly.

You learned to soothe, as a Seeker. Learn how to help. Children, after all, don't know Light from Dark. They just know that if they reach for the magic in their head? Bad things go away and good things tend to happen. Sometimes they hurt themselves by accident. Sometimes they hurt themselves... because the alternative was worse.

"You know, my dear? Some days I think you are the only Jedi with any compassion left. The boy never should have been sent there. Not for his trials. The lives of others are not a child's test. And to be asked to face one's own family? It... it was cruel."

Yan sent his cup around me, to rest on the side table, before gently tugging me down into his lap. He hugged me close, like a child squeezing a stuffed animal for comfort, face buried in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Like he was hiding from the world. I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

We were both... so tired, weren't we. This was nice.

"When did it all become about proving ones purity? One's superiority of morals? We are supposed to help people. Not lord over them. If I wished to do THAT, I would merely need to return to Serrano. Become a Count. You and Sifo are the only one who seem to understand me."

"I think I would go mad, without you."

Yes. I worry that you would, Yan. I worry that you would.