#mahalo!Pumpkinmama <33

[brooklynislandgirl]

David: Are you the bold type? Do want your ideas and thoughts to be heard all around the world?

Picture Perfect || AcceptingThere is no emotion, there is peace.

An antithesis to all that she has come to love, Melakeni sits absolutely motionless amongst the Thousand Fountains. Not a muscle moves, nor do eyes blink. Neither, if one were to look closely enough, does her chest rise and fall with breath. It is nothing so dire as death or paralysis that makes her so still, but a natural extension of both innate biology and meditative training. With no one else around, she can breathe through her skin. Feel the warmth of the sun on her through the tall, slitted windows. Hears the water around her flowing and ebbing in endless perfection.There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.They were supposed to meet here before finding a quiet place out of the way to practice sabre technique. She’s still too slow and she knows her Master knows this. That she is a disappointment to him, to his training and his own skill bothers her deep down, and if she were to tell the truth, she fears what that might mean. Her Master is patient but ruthless. Simply because she is a padawan and young does not mean he is kind and gentle with her.But Ani is. Anakin is also…not in the Temple. He isn’t coming. He has been shepherded away by the Chancellor, and she has to…search her feelings about this. She doesn’t like how much time is taken by the senator. It doesn’t feel right and Anakin always comes back sullen or withdrawn. Exhausted more than he should be.There is no passion, there is serenity.Every time that happens, a little fissure opens up; an unseen crack that doesn’t happen beneath her skin nor in her internal organs but some other part that she is entirely sure is made up of the Force. Unseen below its waters something inside of her stirs, thrashing in madness, in anger. A curious sensation of injustice that pervades everything she tastes and feels.Because no one else sees it. They think he is being stubborn. Or slow. Or that he doesn’t pay attention. They don’t notice the little things, like how he fidgets less and becomes thinner in a sense that if he stood still at all, he would disappear, ceasing to exist entirely. He doesn’t eat and sleep becomes a stranger… and sometimes, the worst of them, he doesn’t even really want to be around her. His friend, who loves him unconditionally. And being unable to reach him feels like… it feels like….how he describes sand.There is no chaos, there is harmony.It all becomes glaringly obvious, and puts her back up. She is going to march on the Senate building, right into the well appointed office that is everything they don’t have; it’s soft cushioned chairs and expansive views of the planet sized city. Its fresh air and bright sunlight and it’s power….To make decisions, to have a sense of autonomy that the Order doesn’t provide. It is the power to speak one’s mind whether in lengthy tirade or impassioned pleas, discussion and debate but most importantly, the ability to reach your own conclusion and walk away from the representatives of a billion worlds feeling as though you have been heard.

She is going to demand of the Chancellor that he leave Anakin alone, if he values his existence. That she won’t let him erase her friend bit by bit until he is palatable, compliant, a useful tool for whatever purpose Palpatine has in mind. She will let the creature come free, let it feed on the fear and feed on that power until it is glutted.

Until she is HEARD.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Even if they send her away for it.Even if they forbid her to associate with him.She knows that no matter what THEY say, there will be a way. That she will defend him if no one else will. Not because he is the fabled Chosen One. Not because he’s already so much better a padawan than the rest of them possibly combined. Not because he is weak, because he isn’t. He’s just…different. And different isn’t bad. And she knows that the Will of the Force, the very same thing that has brought them together, will always supersede a bunch of old and purposefully awful sentients, who probably can’t even agree what to have for lunch.  There is no emotion, there is p-“You are so loud, Ivers, that it is most likely your vitriol that gives them indigestion.”For a moment if it was possible, she would have turned to stone. The churning emotions in her belly go stock still, and she feels as if she’s just gone from the heat of the sun into an icy sea.Slowly one eye cracks open, and then the next and she looks up from the rock she is perched on. Her Master’s aquiline, dark features are stunning in the soft glow of the room. He is terrifying as he towers over her, and at the same time, he is simply…breath-taking. It is not often that he makes jokes, and she isn’t exactly sure if what he has said that has interrupted her meditation is just that…a joke or if it is the prelude to a Lesson.

She isn’t prepared for that. Doesn’t want…Long, elegant fingers reach out. The back of one follows the stubborn curve of her jaw from the fox-point of her chin to the softer round of the hinge itself. She is torn between stiffening in anticipation, and simply staring at the implacable void of his dark eyes.

“Someday, perhaps. But not today, not now. You must learn patience. You must learn to temper your urges with the wisdom of knowing when to strike, unseen. Unexpected. Lethally.”“Yes, my Master.”

He crouches down in the water and tilts his head, examining her. His voice is a silken whisper that is as unsettling as it is gentle.“Someday, the galaxy will tremble with the power of your single whisper. I do not envy that day.”But she doesn’t need the galaxy. She only needs one person to hear her.“Come.”“Yes, Master.”