#you can't sit with us. this is the dairy-intolerant seer table and you're neither.

[dapurinthos]

better coping mechanisms through fic?

Sifo-Dyas has my sunglasses on his face. He looks absolutely exhausted and ridiculous at the same time, wrapped up in three layers of robes and his hair held up out of his face in the messiest bun I’ve seen on someone not me. There’s an ink-stylus, a chopstick, and an actual hair-stick holding it in place. The lenses of my glasses are pressed right up against his eyeballs, the arms sticking out at greater angles than they really should be. The ends are tucked into his hair instead of over his ears. It’s been a tiring day, with a seizure, a migraine, a complete lack of appetite, and an almost-meltdown between the two of us. I’m sideways on his lap, my feet swinging freely in the air, pointedly ignoring the very bland plate of food on the refectory table. It contains two intact pastries, the crumbs of one, and the tattered remains of the one I pulled apart, methodically separated by the layers of lamination within. Qui-Gon Jinn goes to pull out a chair. It doesn’t move. He pulls harder. He can’t see that Master Si has his feet locked around the slats making up the back of the chair, keeping it in place. I can’t imagine why he would want to sit here. This is one of the refectories that keeps to strict food rules, barring animal-derived products for people who are allergic or intolerant. I put my face down on the table to smother my laughing as Jinn decides discretion is the better part of valour and ignores the immovable chair. Master Si places the end of one of his sleeves over my head.