Archive: Yes
Archive Date: February 16, 2001
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
Feedback: is always appreciated
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: G - NC17
Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was
written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same
universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece
stands alone. The snapshots will run the gamut from G to
NC17. Some may be several pages long, some only a couple of
paragraphs; some will contain smut, many will not; they will
be different styles with different voices.
January 01, 2001
"Master, is it really true that you don't like choco?"
"Padawan, have I ever lied to you?"
"No, Master."
"Why would I start over something like this?"
"Beot said it couldn't possibly be true because everyone likes choco. It's like a rule of the galaxy, or something."
"Well it is true - I don't like it."
"Why not?"
"Let's just say that I had an unfortunate experience with choco when I was about your age."
"You did?"
"I did."
[silence]
"Aren't you going to tell me, Master?"
"I am not."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite."
"Because maybe it would be a good lesson - I could learn from your wider experience."
"Nice try, Padawan, but the answer is still no."
January 02, 2001
Obi-Wan carried the tray into the common room, setting it carefully on the low table. The plate of cookies, which had cost him twelve hours of labour for Master Cook Sneld, he placed close to Master Yoda's elbow before carefully performing the ritual steps for tea-making the old master had recently taught him.
"Thank you," said Master Yoda as Obi-Wan passed him a cup. His own was only filled to the halfway mark. "Very nice it was to receive your invitation to tea."
"A thanks for all the times you've had me over," said Obi-Wan. "Now that I'm not in the dorms anymore."
"Where is Qui-Gon?"
"He had an appointment."
Obi-Wan refilled Master Yoda's cup and held out the tray. "Cookie?"
Master Yoda helped himself to two. Nibbling nervously on his own cookie, Obi-Wan watched the first of Master Yoda's disappear quickly.
"So," Obi-Wan asked as casually as he could manage. "What's this I hear about Master Qui-Gon and choco?"
January 03, 2001
I can feel eyes watching us, hear susurrations, murmurs and giggles quickly stifled. When I turn I cannot see them, but I know they are there, hidden in the shadows. Young Togans - I would imagine we look as odd to them as they do to us.
Qui-Gon glances over and catches my eye and smiles. I have to hold back my own laughter as he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue. The giggles return, taking longer to subside this time. But when I look into the shadows they remain hidden. I turn back toward Qui-Gon and he is once more the serene, sedate Master Jedi; if I didn't know better I'd think I'd imagined the silly face.
January 04, 2001
"Do you ever miss the temple, Master?"
"What do you mean?"
"Aren't you ever homesick?"
[a pause]
"I don't believe so, no."
"Oh."
"Do you miss it, Obi-Wan?"
"Well, it is the only home I've ever known and ever since becoming your padawan, we aren't there very much - not that I'm unhappy to be your padawan - I love being your padawan, but sometimes I feel...lonely."
"You always have the Force, Padawan."
"Of course, Master."
"And, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master?"
"You always have me."
January 05, 2001
Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the cliff, the toes of his boots over air. The wind billowed his cloak about him and whispered over his skin. If he thought about it, he could hear the sound it made, the constant noise through the trees and grasses. He'd long since stopped consciously noticing it. A thousand feet below him, the Sinder river wound docily along its course.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan sunk into the lifeforce of the planet. His master was like a bright light behind him; his anchor and shield. The wind was louder like this, its presence more insistent. The rock beneath his feet was silent, but solid. Far below him was the silver hum of the river, with brighter pockets where there were fish. A bright splash of gold swooped in from the left, disappearing again off to his right. The trees were a dark green cushion around him, wound through with the lighter green of the smaller plants and grasses.
It resonated within him, a symphony of colour and sound that he could feel deep inside himself. The Living Force had never been an easy communion for him; it was usually a bunch of threads, all tangled together that took a great deal of effort to sort out. But here, immersed in it, a part of it, it became easy to discern each nuance, each piece that added its note to the whole. It was at times like this that his master's oft repeated advice to live in the moment made the most sense. He could feel the moment. He was the moment.
The bright sound that was his master grew closer. "Padawan." He didn't really hear his master calling him, but he could feel it, knew he was wanted. He let go slowly, the threads tangling with each other once more as he let them fade to the background.
He opened his eyes to darkness, pinpoints of light dotting the sky above. Night had fallen, hours passed, while he'd been submerged. Turning, he saw his master stirring the embers of their fire. Qui-Gon looked up under his scrutiny, a warm smile lighting the loved face. Obi-Wan moved to join him.
January 06, 2001
The room is large. There are floor to ceiling tapestries depicting the history of this world. There are royals and gentry and servants all dressed in brilliantly coloured cloth, and food and drink and entertainment of every sort. But I see none of it; though I look toward the dais where the sacrificed bulla lies, my focus is elsewhere.
I watch out of the corner of my eyes as my master helps a young woman. She has strained her leg muscles and he is attempting to soothe the cramps. He kneels in front of her chair, her skirts pushed up to her thighs and he leans over her. His big hands hold her leg between them, rubbing and kneading, sliding along her flesh, up and down; the rhythmic motion is soothing to watch, to be its recipient has to be so much...more.
As I know it is, for he has soothed me thus, though the massage usually ends in a more intimate embrace than the handshake he is now sharing with the girl. As if reading my thoughts he glances in my direction, eyes full of promise - he'll prove my jealousy unfounded once again when we are alone.
January 07, 2001
Obi-Wan stood by the bed and ran his hands over his skin. Starting at his face, he traced the shape of his own cheekbones, the line of his jaw and down the length of his neck. He slid his finger over the large tendon on the right side, up and down like Qui-Gon would. Obi-Wan still couldn't see what fascinated his master so and he moved on, letting his hands fall to his shoulders.
He traced the line of his collarbone, hands meeting at the hollow of his throat and then splitting apart again as he flattened his palms against the flesh of his chest, trailing over his pectoral muscles. The raised points of his nipples tickled his palms and he flicked the hardened nubs with his fingertips as they passed.
His chest was smooth, but not flat, and his hands dipped up and down along the curves of his muscles. He slid his middle finger in and out of his navel, imitating the path often taken by his master's tongue.
He let a hand travel over each hip, skirting his burgeoning erection, fingers sliding through the tight nest of curls. His thighs were solid, muscles tensed with anticipation, his legs slightly parted in invitation. The skin on the inside of his thighs was soft and he quivered under his own teasing touch.
This was how Qui-Gon touched him, this was how his master brought him to the keen edge of desire. Obi-Wan's breathing grew heavy as he continued to slide his hands over himself. He cupped his sac, gently holding the sensitive orbs, noting the difference between his own hold and his master's.
Finally he moved to grasp his shaft. He was hard, as much with Qui-Gon's remembered touch as his own explorations, and he could only moan as he formed a tunnel with his hands. His hips thrust of their own accord, moving his length in and out of the passage created by his hands. His flesh here was hotter than the rest of his skin, and soft, but soft covering a hardness that was inescapable.
Faster he moved, imagining his master's heat coming up behind him, Qui-Gon's arms enveloping him, those large hands wrapping around his erection and making him come, holding him up as his legs gave way beneath the force of his orgasm.
Obi-Wan sank to the floor and leaned his head against the edge of the bed. Reaching up, he moved his finger through the come on the blanket and brought it to his lips, tasting it as Qui-Gon often did. Salty, bitter and a faint hint of the sweetness his master spoke of. Obi-Wan had tasted it before, in his master's mouth and had always assumed that sweetness to be Qui-Gon.
A knock sounded on his door and Obi-Wan quickly stood and slid into a pair of leggings. He wiped away the evidence of his passion and went to the door.
"Another nightmare?" he asked. Anakin looked up at him, eyes wide.
"I'm just so cold," said the boy.
Nodding, Obi-Wan sat on the floor and wrapped the boy in hug. "I feel it too," he as he began to slowly rock.
January 08, 2001
Obi-Wan lay quietly in bed, running his fingers along his master's scalp. Qui-Gon was asleep, a soft puff of air sliding over Obi-Wan's abdomen as he breathed The silver-haired head lay low on Obi-Wan's chest and one hand curled possessively around the end of his braid near the bottom of his ribcage.
Obi-Wan was tired too, his limbs relaxed and loose in the way that only sex could make them, but he didn't want to sleep yet, maybe not at all. There were moments when he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing nothing more than holding his master, his lover, his Qui-Gon.
The truth of it was that there were moments when he let that desire overwhelm him, like now; the rest of the time he controlled it and followed his duty. For like his master, his lover, his Qui-Gon, he was Jedi.
January 09, 2001
He sinks into me. His chest is pressed against my back, his face planted against my neck, lips soft, warm and wet there. His thighs press against the inside of mine, fine hair tickling my sensitive flesh. His knees are between mine, pushing them apart. The root of him fills my passage, stretching me, owning me.
He sinks into me. His spirit presses against mine, merges into mine until we are two no longer.
He sinks into me. His soul is made of light and air and it pushes at me, pulls at me, wrenching me from my anchor that I may fly in him.
He doesn't move, holding this moment until it becomes too much for me and I whimper.
"I love you, Qui-Gon." His words are not spoken, but I know them nonetheless and with them he begins to move; it is only our bodies that separate and grow closer again and again until I am flying with him.
We sink to the bed, still joined, still merged. Always One.
January 10, 2001
"Master! Come look."
Qui-Gon followed the stone-lined path in the direction of the excited exclamations of his padawan. Turning a corner, he found the boy standing at the base of a tree, watching as a silver snake slowly wound its way up the thick trunk.
"That's a jewel snake," Qui-Gon told him.
"Are they poisonous?"
"No, the jewel snake eats small insects and plants, it's quite safe to anything larger than a flyert."
"Good," replied Obi-Wan, holding his arm out toward the creature. It turned from its path and curled around the boy's wrist, looping 'round and 'round until it covered Obi-Wan's arm from wrist to shoulder like a succession of bracelets. The diamond shaped head curled toward his face and the two stared at each other.
"Wow," whispered Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon chuckled.
"Can I take it home?" the boy asked.
"I thought you didn't like pets?"
"I don't like those pathetic, furry, cuddly, cute, stupid ones, Master. Necklace is different." The rapt expression on his face making it clear that the jewel snake most assuredly did not fall into this category.
"We shall have to check with the Prefect here. And she would be entirely your responsibility."
"Thank you, Master!" exclaimed Obi-Wan, giving Qui-Gon a tight, one-armed hug.
"You're welcome," Qui-Gon replied dryly, watching as the jewel snake lived up to her new name, winding her way across Obi-Wan's shoulders and looping around his neck.
January 11, 2001
The emergency lights blinked dully, smoke partially obscuring them. Obi-Wan looked to his master for guidance, and for courage.
"We must get to the bridge, Padawan. I'll go first, then the children, and you follow."
"Wait, Master. Jessel, the youngest, is missing."
His master made another quick survey of their surroundings and Obi-Wan knew he was considering their options, the noise of fighting growing louder.
"Find her and then find somewhere to hide. It is imperative we protect the children - they are the last of their kind."
Obi-Wan nodded, watching with misgivings as his master strode down the corridor and quickly disappeared from view. The ship suddenly seemed very large. He turned to the four youngsters in his charge. They huddled together, looking lost and miserable.
Like he felt.
January 12, 2001
Te-Sin paused before entering the treatment room to observe her patient. Kenobi sat on the healing couch, holding his master's hand, the heavy white cloth sitting across his eyes. She knew they were worried. It amused her that otherwise brave and smart Jedi could become so undone when they needed to surrender the care of their bodies to others. These two were no different. She had assured them that after the proper amount of time had passed, Kenobi's eyes would recover completely; humanoid physiology was easy compared to her own race.
Stepping into the room, she could feel their nervous anticipation. She let a reassuring smile grace her features, for the master, and she spoke to the padawan, voice quiet and soothing. "Ready?" she asked, hands coming to rest on either side of the pup's head.
"Yes." His voice was steady. Good - whatever fears he might have he was placing his trust in her. She smiled again, more warmly this time.
A soft touch of the Force lowered the light and she began to unwind the bandage.
January 13, 2001
Obi-Wan scrolled through the temple records, those he was allowed to access at least. He allowed himself a growl of frustration and then released the emotion to the Force, focussing once more on his task. He only had a few days left before the start of their next mission, and he didn't even know which year to start with.
He had begun his investigation with Master Yoda, but the old gnome had proven most annoying - answering any and all enquiries with half answers, riddles and more questions. On top of that he'd eaten all the cookies and most of Obi-Wan's own choco stash, granted that only consisted of several thin wafers, but there was little opportunity for a padawan to get choco.
His next step had been to seek out those friends of his master who were currently at the temple. This too had proven fruitless and all he'd gotten for his troubles had been bored. Though he had to admit that Knight Tulo's stories about the Outer Rim monsters had been both scary and fun, while Master Sharp's knowledge of ships seemed never-ending, they too had proven to be dead ends as far as his self-imposed mission went.
The only other thing he could think of doing was to consult the temple records for some hint of The Great Choco Incident, as he'd begun calling it to himself. Of course his task would have been made easier if he'd known how far back to check, but it seemed that his master was as secretive about his true age as he was about the reason behind his dislike of choco.
January 14, 2001
"Do you have anything planned for our time at the temple, Obi-Wan?"
"As a matter of fact, I do, Master. I'll be completing an old project."
"Very good. Unfortunately most of my time is scheduled with meetings, though we should have some time for training and...other activities."
Obi-Wan grinned. He had a pretty good idea what those other activities were. Qui-Gon rose to go and Obi-Wan tilted his head back. The kiss was long and deep and full of the promise of more to come.
Licking his lips, savouring the taste of his master, Obi-Wan formulated his plan of attack. There were several Jedi currently at the temple who had been padawans at the same time as his master, and his clearance was higher now than it had been when he's fist discovered The Great Choco Incident. He hoped that higher clearance would prove yet another search through the temple database to be more fruitful.
He also planned to question Master Yoda again. Crossing wits with him had become a growing source of enjoyment for both of them and in all Obi-Wan's years of searching and questioning, his master's master had never outright refused to tell him the story.
As a last resort he would ask his master. He had resolved not to let the matter take any more of his time and energies - once their current leave was over he would put his six year search to rest, one way or another.
And then his new mission would begin. He was a smart padawan and an inventive lover and he was quite sure he could come up with something that would change Qui-Gon's mind about choco.
January 15, 2001
"Master..." Obi-Wan's voice cracked and a cough wracked his frame, lungs and throat burning from the effort.
"Sh. I'm here." A straw was held between his lips and he sipped weakly, the cold water beading in his mouth and sliding slowly down his parched throat.
"Wha?"
"You've had a fever." His master's voice was low and soothing, like water for his ears.
"How?"
"Four days. The medics told me you wouldn't recover, but I knew better." Qui-Gon's voice was calm, still soothing, but Obi-Wan recognized the hint of worry buried beneath the Confident Jedi Master tone.
"The treaty?" asked Obi-Wan, throat feeling less raw. Qui-Gon put the straw between his lips again and the large, blunt fingers felt cool against his skin. The bed dipped slightly as his master sat next to him and Obi-Wan leaned against the sturdy shoulder.
"Signed. It seems that infecting one of the negotiators with what they believed to be mortal virus prompted compromise and good-will among all five sides."
"Does that mean," Obi-Wan coughed again, gratefully leaning back against the pillows his master pilled behind him when he was through. "Does that mean they're going to call it off because I'm not dead?"
January 16, 2001
Qui-Gon watched his lover sleep, eyes sweeping gentle caresses over the lean lines. His gaze lingered on his padawan's bottom, the twin rounds smooth and inviting. Remembering what Obi-Wan had done to him just the other night, Qui-Gon licked his lips. He would like to reciprocate, to do some...rimming his padawan had called it...of his own.
He hadn't studied the matter the way his padawan had of course, but he was pretty sure he could recreate enough of the moves to have Obi-Wan squirming with pleasure. A lick here and a kiss there, with some serious tonguing in between should certainly make a good start.
As if reading Qui-Gon's thoughts, Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep, bending his right knee and exposing, just barely, the hidden entrance to his body cradled between his cheeks.
Qui-Gon felt himself harden with anticipation.
January 17, 2001
"Like that?"
"Oh yeah."
"And this?"
"Uh-huh."
"What if I..."
"Oh!"
"And right here..."
"ng!"
"And I wonder if-"
"Master!"
"Again?"
"Yes!"
"And again?"
"Ah..gah."
"Is that a yes? I should do more of this?"
"Mmmrph."
"A no?"
"No!"
"No, it wasn't a no, or no, I repeat no?"
"Qui-Gon!"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"Shut up and keep licking me."
"Yes, Padawan."
January 18, 2001
Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest and glowered at no one in particular; he'd already driven the particulars away from this corner of the garden with his ill-humour.
Master Ynee had said that Obi-Wan had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but Obi-Wan didn't see what difference that would make. Besides, he always got up on the same side.
Now he could hear the irregular tapping of Master Yoda's gimer stick on the paving stones and he glowered harder. But Master Yoda obviously wasn't all that great at reading the Force 'cause he just kept coming, no matter how hard Obi-Wan wished he wouldn't.
"You should go away. I'm having a snit."
"A snit it is, hmm?"
"That's what Master Ynee said."
The little master cackled. "And what say you?"
"I'm grumpy and don't want to have to talk to anybody."
"Ah."
"What?" asked Obi-Wan, still glaring out over the garden.
"Master of Grumpy, I am. Sit with you I shall."
They sat quietly for a moment before Obi-Wan shot Master Yoda a suspicious look. "You aren't grading me are you?"
January 19, 2001
Obi-Wan stepped out of his white tunic and leggings, folding them neatly and setting them aside with the others. He stood silently at the mirror for a time, examining his own form. He didn't look any different; he thought he should.
With a slight shrug, he turned and began to dress in his new clothes. Light cream coloured leggings and tunics and a utility belt to fit over top of his obi. He looked into the mirror again.
This time he did look different, though only in the way he was dressed, still after so many years in initiate whites, the light cream uniform of a padawan was a big change.
He touched the tuft of hair by his right ear; soon there would be a thin braid there, denoting his commitment to a master and the order.
Smiling, he made his way out into the common room to greet his master as a proper padawan.
January 20, 2001
"Respectfully, Master, but perhaps my padawan and I are not the right team for this mission."
Obi-Wan glanced at his master in surprise, not that his master was questioning the council, but he never refused a mission. Obi-Wan could feel that surprise echoed among the council members.
"Refuse you do?" asked Yoda.
"I just wonder if the council has thought this through." The tension in the room relaxed immediately. This was the Qui-Gon Jinn they knew. Inwardly, Obi-Wan sighed, wishing his master were not quite so headstrong. The man had never turned down a mission, but seemed to take every opportunity to question the Jedi charged with overseeing the order.
"Explain yourself," snapped Master Windu.
"The Wenark are a matriarchal society. Surely it would be more prudent to send a female team. They may not appreciate having two men arriving and telling them what they must do to join the Republic."
"They may be a matriarchy, but most of the members of the Republic are not and if they cannot accept direction and input from men now, we need to know that before they join the Republic."
"And they know we're lovers?"
"Irrelevant," responded Windu, waving his hand dismissively. "They indulge in same gender relationships themselves. You and Kenobi have the best record at ferreting out a people's secrets. You're the team who's going."
"Very well, we accept the mission, but I would like my objection noted."
"Objection by you we note at the beginning of each session," said Master Yoda with a cackle. "Details only need be noted. May the Force be with you. Go."
Bowing along with his master at the dismissal, Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye, watching as his master struggled to contain his smile. Trailing behind him, Obi-Wan realised that his master enjoyed locking horns with the members of the Council. He sighed, wondering if he would ever grow used to the habit.
January 21, 2001
"Master, I've searched the database, questioned your friends and your master and have come to a dead end. Please tell me why you don't like choco."
Obi-Wan shook his head at his reflection in the mirror of his room; that wasn't quite right.
"I've spent five years searching every possible angle, no lead was left unfollowed and still nothing! I have to know, why don't you like choco?"
Nope, too desperate.
"Please, Master, pllleeeasssseee, tell me why you don't like choco."
Ug. That was still too desperate, only now it was also whiney.
"Say Qui-Gon, that choco thing, you never did get around to telling me what the story was."
He shook his head - anything that casual was obviously faked.
"You will tell me why you don't like choco." Obi-Wan waved his hand in the air in front of himself.
Oh yes, that would do nicely.
January 22, 2001
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."
Obi-Wan heard the sound of childish voices in his head, the memory of the Delnaari moon, with it's plague and it's orphans dancing in the streets, moving through him like a wave. He and Qui-Gon had made love every night in the months they'd been there - hard, quick and desperate, needing to prove they were alive.
He shivered and his focus turned outward once more. He was alone; the flames had almost died out, the pyre was empty, only dust and ashes remained. And the echoing silence.
"Hush-a, hush-a, we all fall down."
January 23, 2001
Obi-Wan made a face at his plate and put it aside.
"Eat you must. Long hike tomorrow."
"But Master Yoda, it's grass."
"Edible it is."
"That's debatable," murmured Geran at Obi-Wan's left.
"At least it's not puce," said Bant and they all shuddered as they remembered lunch.
"Learn you all must, to eat any foods. Delicacy on my home world this is."
"Yes, Master," replied the group of initiates dutifully, though few of them made any move to consume the meal.
Obi-Wan stared glumly at his plate. Tomorrow's meals were bound to be more of the same and he knew it was just a matter of time before Master Yoda wore him down. Already several of the other initiates had caved.
"Obi-Wan," said Reeft, interrupting his contemplation of his plate. "Are you going to eat that?"
January 24, 2001
Obi-Wan arched into the hand that stroked across his chest, whimpering as his master's touch faded once again. He lay, panting in the darkness, waiting for the next touch. He moaned as it came - the soft sweep of fingertips over his shaft; the touch barely there and yet as real as the pounding of his own heartbeat.
"Please, Qui-Gon," he begged, knowing it would have no effect on his master; Qui-Gon was skilled in ignoring his pleas and setting his own pace. Lessons in patience he'd once said, voice deep with laughter as he teased his padawan, but Obi-Wan called it sweet torture and prayed for more.
The next touch found him arching off the bed as Qui-Gon's mouth closed over his erection, pulling him deep into the warm wetness. Down and up again and down and up once more, Qui-Gon's tongue circling the head and pressing into the slit before abandoning him.
Clenching his fists in the sheets, hardly even feeling the cool cotton against his palms, Obi-Wan shifted restlessly, another soft whimper leaving his lips and a gentle shudder passing through his body as he waited.
And waited.
Waited.
His muscles grew tight with anticipation, his breath leaving his body in short gasps. Where would the next touch be? What would Qui-Gon do to him now? His neck? His chest? His feet? His nipples? His shaft? The crook of his elbow? He ached to shift, his hips restlessly urging him to move, to find release and he grew more tense, not caring where Qui-Gon touched him, only that he did.
"I love you, my Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon's breath moved across his abdomen, fluttered against the top of his aching length in the darkness and Obi-Wan screamed, body jerking as he came.
January 25, 2001
My padawan has come through the worst of it; the fever has broken.
I sit next to his bed quite exhausted but unable to sleep due to the loud snore that punctuates each breath.
I revel in the sound.
He is alive.
January 26, 2001
The tap in the kitchen dripped again and Obi-Wan gave up his pretence of reading and laid his head against the back of the couch. Letting his eyes close, he waited for the tap to drip again.
He could picture it in his head, the curve of the chrosteel faucet, the flat screen at its tip. The water would gather there, slowly building from tiny, microscopic drops into a single large bead that would become heavy. The pull of gravity would stretch it until it would fall and explode against the surface of the sink with a - yes there it was again, a metallic splash.
Getting up, Obi-Wan went to the kitchen, retrieving the toolbox from the closet on his way. When he'd been younger, Obi-Wan had gone through a half dozen washers before he'd realised that his master left the faucet not quite closed: a lesson in patience and focus that would be repeated time and again. Habit, born of that time, made him try the faucet and to his surprise, it turned under his hand, sealing the pipes.
He caressed the cold metal with his fingertips, a soft shiver going through him. Though he made a mental note to remind Anakin to turn off the tap properly, a small smile lit his face.
January 27, 2001
"Hey, that's a Dragonfly Hopper 3!" exclaimed Obi-Wan, breaking away from the group of initiates lined in a single file behind Master Ynee. Several of the other children followed him as he made his way to the spacecraft, reverently caressing the gleaming metal body of the ship.
"Kenobi, Chun, Brak'Tal, Sintan, back in line, now," ordered Master Ynee, her voice stern.
"But Master, it's a spacecraft!" Obi-Wan told her.
"Yes, and a run down hunk of a spacecraft at that." Master Ynee sniffed, her voice was cold and disdainful.
Obi-Wan looked over at the Dragonfly again from his place in the line. Sure there scratches, scars and dents, but they were the signposts of great adventures and he wanted to hear about every one of them. He hoped the pilot was a good storyteller.
January 28, 2001
Obi-Wan bowed to the Queen, the boy at his side echoing his movements. Leaving the Queen and the palace behind them, they silently made their way to the landing bay and the cruiser that waited to transport them back to Coruscant.
"Is that the ship we're going in?" asked Anakin.
"Yes. It's a Republic Cruiser. The red marks it as a ship of diplomacy and peace."
"Oh."
Obi-Wan thought that Anakin sounded disappointed. "Not every ship shoots guns," he told the boy sternly.
"I know that Master, sir," replied Anakin softly.
"Master Obi-Wan," he corrected, watching as Anakin ran his hand along the hull in a gentle caress as they walked by it. "Perhaps the pilot will let us sit in the cockpit," Obi-Wan suggested.
"Really?" asked Anakin, the bounce returning to his step at Obi-Wan's nod. "Wizard!"
January 29, 2001
Master Obi-Wan loves the rain. Whenever it's raining he goes out and tilts his face up into it. He gets all wet, like not just a little bit - he gets totally soaked.
It's weird. I mean, I love water - you shoulda seen me when I had my first shower, I thought they were kidding when they explained it to me - but rain is cold and the wind slams it into you and you can't control what minerals and stuff are in it, so it's like dirty water.
I asked him once why he liked it so much and all he said was that it was "the Force's fingertips."
Don't ask me, I still haven't figured it out, but every time it rains and he goes out into it, I think of him saying that and the look that was on his face - his eyes were all distant, like he was remembering something and he looked half sad, half happy.
Sometimes I don't think I'm ever going to figure this Jedi stuff out.
January 30, 2001
Kisses rain down on my upturned face, my master's tongue joining his lips to wet my skin; he laps at me as if I were a sweet ice. I smile and he follows the curves of my lips with his tongue, tickling each corner of my mouth before pushing inside.
My own tongue meets his and we dance inside my mouth to the rhythm set by our hearts. His tongue retreats, mine follows and the dance is moved to a new ballroom; his mouth tastes like a song of joy.
January 31, 2001
"What's this?" asked Qui-Gon, looking dubiously at the gelatinous blue substance on his plate.
"Varikan jellied stew." Obi-Wan informed him as he set his own plate down. The same blue mess.
"Isn't that made with storgat hooves and rancor livers?"
"Yes, it is."
He frowned and watched as his padawan dug into the so-called meal with apparent relish. Carefully taking a small portion of the blue jelly onto his own spoon, Qui-Gon tasted it. It took all of his training not to spit the substance back out onto his plate and he eyed Obi-Wan suspiciously as his padawan continued to shovel in the foul stuff.
"Are you sure you have the same thing I do?" he inquired.
"Quite."
"Then how come you're eating like you're starving and mine tastes like sewage?"
"Why do you think I'm eating it so quickly?" Obi-Wan asked him dryly.
"You're telling me you don't like the flavour any better than I do?"
"Yes, Master."
"Then why are we eating this?"
"Varikan jellied stew is said to have restorative powers." Obi-Wan was studying his empty plate now, as if it held the answer to some eternal puzzle.
"Restorative powers?" He watched, puzzled, as Obi-Wan's cheeks grew red and then suddenly it all made sense. "Padawan, I was tired."
End.