Archive: Yes
Archive Date: February 14, 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.
December 01, 2000
Water slides over his skin like the lover's touch that follows. His Obi-Wan surrounds him, arms and legs circling his body. If he tried he could tell where Obi-Wan's touch ends and the water's begins, but he doesn't want to; the moment feels like magic and such scrutiny would shatter it.
They float into the middle of the pool. Sun streams through the large, dark leaves, colouring the air with verdant streamers. He feels light, buoyant; Obi-Wan's added weight is negligible in the water, making his lover feel more a part of him than a separate body.
Closing his eyes, he just lets go. The water holds him, holds them both and a soft breeze whispers sweet nothings to them. He feels himself grow hard, feels Obi-Wan's hardness against him.
The water's caresses are soft and silky and married to the air's light touch upon his skin. His lover's breathing becomes laboured, as does his own and sweet pleasure sings through his body. He and Obi-Wan both come with soft gasps as this place deep in the forest makes love to them.
They drift back to the shore and leave the water together, hand in hand.
He can feel the Force in himself, in the air around them; his connection to it pure and simple, a joy.
December 02, 2000
The fighting was fierce, but we were fiercer. My master fought, as he always does, like a tigra; eyes flashing fire and saber twisting and turning, returning volleys and protecting the valley's entrance.
All is quiet now, the calm after a raging storm of battle.
He's a mess. I'm sure we both are. His hair falls about his face in disarray, his cloak hangs askance, one side torn, and his tunic is dark with mud. The mud is everywhere. Thick beneath our feet and colouring our clothes dark.
He looks like a spirit of the valley itself, risen to protect.
He calls to a part of me that stays hidden most of the time, something primal and feral that has no place among civilization. I reach out with the Force, reading nothing around us but animals, vegetation, and the dark, wet earth. I go to him; I go to my master, shedding my clothes until I stand naked before him.
A quiet growl surrounds us and it is a moment before I realise the sound comes from him. I begin to tremble, anticipation and adrenaline rushing toward each other and meeting in an explosion that rocks me forward. We fall to the ground, wrapped in each other's arms.
I pull at his clothing until he is as naked as I and we are naked and together and rolling over the slick earth. I can feel the mud coat my skin; cold and gritty, it fuels my need and I surge over him, ready to claim this beast as my own.
Sinking into him is as it always is - pure and simple and necessary. I move in him and over him, surging forward and back until with a united cry we come, our seed sealing our union.
I fall forward, onto him, and we kiss. He tastes like love. He tastes like mud and dirt and trees and leaves. He tastes like a fierce roar.
He tastes like my master.
His arms come around me, holding me against him and we lie quiet and safe within the earth's vibrant embrace.
December 03, 2000
We stand together amidst the flames. Obi-Wan is wrapped in my arms, and I in his. Our bodies move together as one, always as one, whether we fight, love, breathe...
When first the fires were lit, I knew fear. I do not want to die; it is not my time yet; a thousand protests that died on my lips when I looked upon my padawan's face.
Acceptance lay within the changeable depth's of his eyes - the will of the Force, the need of the flames and the sharp desire in his soul.
Above all I saw love, a love as strong as the Force and as consuming as the flames. A love that surpassed even the demands of his body, of his heart, of his soul. For it was not his love alone that I saw, but my own as well.
The flames surrounded us then, growing closer with each passing second but my fear grew distant, disappearing beneath our coming together in love.
Even now, I can feel the fire melt our clothes away, can feel its desperate hunger licking at us. It is but a pale reflection of the heat of our love's expression as our bodies dance to the eternal rhythm of existence.
And when the flames are spent, extinguished by their own hand, we stand again as two, new and reborn.
December 04, 2000
I have dreamed of meeting him again. In the bright light of day I would remind myself that we would be together again in the Force. In the dark hours of the night I would long for his touch, for our joining, just one more time.
And now here we are. Together again. At last. Forever. My mouth opened beneath his, my body pressed back against the length of him. Our bodies merge, our minds join and we become one in a way that we had only glimpsed in the corporeal world.
He and I are no more. We. Combined. One instead of two - or two instead of one. It matters not and there is no way to express it. But I don't need to find the words - he knows because I do.
The moment is.
December 05, 2000
Obi-Wan could feel the change in the air as dawn approached.
Birds had begun to chitter and insects hum, but now there was a lull, a hush, as if all were waiting for the sun's arrival. Even the scent of the air, carried on a gentle breeze, seemed to change, growing sweeter.
He could feel the temperature change, grow ever so slightly warmer as light began to gently colour the sky.
Seconds later a rush of heat bourn on the sun's rays warmed him, kissing the flesh on his hands and face while soaking into the material of his cloak. He felt as though he were being kissed by nature, enclosed in a warm embrace.
He leaned against his master's side, the warmth there rivalling that of the dawn's sun.
A few moments more and he shifted, slipping his hand into the crook of his master's arm. "Thank you, Master."
"Anytime, Padawan," came the soft, but fierce reply and then his master led him back to their quarters.
December 06, 2000
Master Y'nee folded all six arms across her expansive chest and glared at the two boys who stood in front of her. Their white initiates uniforms were no longer white; instead were splashed with a variety of colours, one boy's tunic even boasted a long tear.
Pitching her voice in the high, imperious tones that were a sign of anger among her species, she finally broke the looming silence. "Jedi do not fight with other Jedi."
"He started it," said the taller of the two, his white hair mostly pink, his tone fluctuating between sullen and defiant.
"Did not!" shot back the other, his auburn hair decidedly more so, his cheeks an odd hue of purple.
"Did so, Kenobi."
"You broke my sculpture."
"Is that what that hunk of clay was?"
"You see?" said the smaller boy, rounding on Master Y'nee and poking his finger at the other boy.
"Enough!" Master Y'nee abandoned the tonal range of her species, using instead the strident tones that seemed to work so well with humanoid youngsters. "Initiate Kenobi, you will spend all your free time for the next week assisting in the laundry and you, Initiate Chun, shall spend your free time for the next week helping out with the clay firing. Both of you shall report to me at sunrise for the next month for guided meditations and I do not want to hear of you fighting outside of the training halls again. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," came the chorused reply, the boys identical pictures of dejection.
December 07, 2000
Obi-Wan slipped down in the water until only his head, from his nose up, was exposed. The bath was enormous and filled with hot, scented water. To Obi-Wan it seemed like a decadence that bordered upon sinful.
He hadn't been a padawan for very long, and didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but he was sure the Talian representatives were attempting to curry favour from him and his master. He had said as much earlier and Master Qui-Gon had concurred that it was a distinct possibility and then had proceeded to strip and sink into the water with a long, heartfelt sigh.
Wide-eyed, Obi-Wan gaped at his master.
"As long as we don't let it unduly influence our decisions, there is no reason for us not to avail ourselves of the facilities, Padawan. When you have visited as many worlds as I have you will learn to take your comforts where you can."
Obi-Wan had been surprised by his master's actions, but he had to admit, now that he was floating in the large-even-for-his-master tub, that the luxury of submersing oneself in the soft, warm water was quite wonderful. He might even go so far as to say not to be missed.
December 08, 2000
The bells in the central tower chimed the hour and Qui-Gon looked up in surprise; he hadn't realised it had become so late. A glance through the half open door confirmed that his padawan was still in the bath. He chuckled quietly. It seemed Obi-Wan had overcome his concerns regarding impropriety and bribery with regard to the oversized bath in their quarters.
Moving to stand in the doorway, Qui-Gon watched indulgently as the boy swam in lazy circles. "Obi-Wan," he at last called softly.
"Yes, Master?"
"Have you turned into Master Yoda yet?"
"I beg your pardon, Master?"
"Didn't you know that time and hot water will leave your skin all wrinkled? When I was a padawan we used to call the effect on your skin 'turning into Master Yoda'."
Obi-Wan laughed, but the merriment faded from his face as he realised his master was serious.
"Oh no!" he cried, examining his hands with horror, his fingers having indeed become all wrinkled. "What am I going to do?"
"Relax, Padawan," replied Qui-Gon, unable to hold back his laughter. "Come out of the water and you will find it fades fairly quickly."
Obi-Wan exited the water with alacrity, eyeing the bath with renewed suspicion. "I knew there was a catch."
December 09, 2000
"We've never made love in the bath, Master."
"We've made love in the shower, though."
"Not the same thing."
"Ponds, lakes and rivers."
"Still different."
"They are all water, Padawan."
"But not baths."
"You know I like to indulge you when I can, my Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master, you do."
"But we are not going to make love in the bath."
"Why not?"
"Have you seen the size of that thing? I don't know how I'm going to stay clean this mission. They don't have showers, sonic or otherwise, or any other kind of an alternative."
"Master are you saying you won't make love to me in the bath because it's too small?"
"Indeed."
"So...size matters."
December 10, 2000
Obi-Wan slipped down in the water until only his head, from his nose up, was exposed. He watched Qui-Gon slowly lower himself into the bath, the long body disappearing beneath the water until he too was submerged to his nose. Meeting his master's eyes, Obi-Wan could see they were filled with the same love and anticipation he himself was feeling.
The room was plain, sparse. It was dominated by the bath sunk into the ground, big enough to hold them both, though their feet were tangled together. Obi-Wan liked his master best like this; plain and unadorned, in a simple setting. Finery and opulence were for those who needed it -his master's spirit was all the decoration Qui-Gon needed.
Moving forward, Obi-Wan settled over his master's body. Qui-Gon's arms came around him, pulling him close. Their lips met beneath the water, the warm liquid around their faces making the experience new. Opening his lips to let Qui-Gon in, Obi-Wan sputtered as the water flooded into his mouth. Laughing, coughing, he sat up, bringing his knees to either side of Qui-Gon's hips.
Their erections brushed, abruptly cutting off the laughter and Obi-Wan leaned forward for another kiss, this one filled with sudden urgency. Qui-Gon moved beneath him, pushing himself to sit up slightly higher as his hands moved over skin made slick by the water.
Raising himself and then settling carefully back down, Obi-Wan reached one hand beneath his body, guiding his master's phallus into himself. Eyes closing as he sank all the way down, burying Qui-Gon deeply within, his soft moan echoed along the pristine tiles.
It was easy to move - hips rolling in a natural rhythm, thighs pushing up and down, the water buoying him. It slid around his body, holding him and touching him. He could hear it splashing against the sides of the bath, waves made by their loving.
Qui-Gon's hands wrapped around his hips, like living anchors, freeing him to fly, to drown, to be consumed by the pleasure their bodies made together.
Sated, their bodies slowed, stilled. Obi-Wan leaned forward, resting his head on his master's shoulder.
The sound of the water moving against the sides of the bath slowly grew quiet.
December 11, 2000
Obi-Wan grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Do I have to?"
"Unless you plan to walk across the Great Swamp," replied his master.
"It smells."
"Not any worse than you in a couple of days, boy," laughed the green-skinned native who was to be their guide. Obi-Wan's nose wrinkled even further and he turned beseeching eyes upon Qui-Gon.
"Master...please!"
"I know you haven't any affinity for animals, Obi-Wan, but you need to get over this unwillingness to have anything to do with them."
"Yes, Master."
Turning back to the smelly and talk trundlersnart, Obi-Wan grasped the reins and pulled himself up as he had observed his master and their guide doing. However, while they had both pulled themselves up and into their seats atop the large beasts of burden, Obi-Wan found himself dangling against its side, several feet off the ground as the trundlersnart shifted impatiently.
Holding tightly to the reins, he tried to swing his legs up to the platform where he was to sit, but to no avail. He had just decided to resort to using the Force to lift himself up when a large, webbed appendage grasped his bottom and hauled him up. Obi-Wan squeaked at the touch before being unceremoniously deposited atop the beast.
There was no time to worry about his dignity though as their guide walloped the back end of Obi-Wan's trundlersnart. The man's rich laughter followed him into the swamp as Obi-Wan held on, desperately hoping he'd stay seated.
December 12, 2000
I'd seen it coming.
Felt the stumble of the trundlersnart. Heard the squelch of mud enclosing eagerly over body; the untenably foul stench of it coating robe and tunic and leggings, slick and cold against skin.
Except.
I thought it would be me.
I knew it would be me.
I could feel it in the odd canter of the beast beneath me. I could hear it in the laughter of our guide - knew he was just waiting for me to slip. The way my master had said "I know you haven't any affinity for animals, Obi-Wan, but you need to get over this unwillingness to have anything to do with them" had sealed my fate.
Yet here I am, high upon my trundlersnart; dry and relatively scent free, while below me, hip deep in the foul liquid, stands my master. His face is as green now as our guide's and he splutters and coughs, spitting the wretched liquid from his mouth.
I have schooled my face to impassivity and when he looks up at me I silently pass him my water skin and my robe.
I am still surprised that he is the one in the swamp.
The Force it seems has lessons for us all.
December 13, 2000
It is the dark of the night, no moons shine through the open curtains to relieve the blackness. Beside me my companion is sleeping, his breathing soft and even like a metronome counting out the moments. I've been counting them. One thousand three hundred and forty seven breaths that are not those of my master.
My padawan - how strange that still sounds, only yesterday I was a padawan myself - my padawan makes a quiet sound that could be whimper and I can feel him begin to shiver. This great marble palace is beautiful, but it is cold, especially in the dark of the night.
I reach out to him and at my touch he rolls close. Together we huddle beneath the covers, trying to get warm.
December 17, 2000
Obi-Wan fell into bed, muscles weary, head aching in that way he knew only sleep would cure. Bladin's over long days were going to kill him, he was sure of it.
He hadn't bothered to shower, hadn't even undressed; his only concession to comfort being the removal of his robe, belt and boots. He'd sort out the rest in the morning, after Bladin's abysmally short night.
Really, he thought as he fell into sleep, any planet that boasted a thirty eight standard hour day needed a night that lasted longer than four.
December 18, 2000
Sitting at my master's feet, I can feel the heat of his hands as they brush now and then against my skin.
Earlier he braided the tail of hair that marks my rank, that marks me, as his padawan. The long, broad fingers, callused and worn, are surprisingly agile. Now we sit, quiet and together; he reading and I just sitting.
The touch comes again, a light caress that strokes across the back of my neck. I don't think he is even aware that he does it. He always has, as if unconsciously assuring himself that I am still here, next to him.
As, of course, I am. Where else would I be?
December 19, 2000
"Is there anything you would like to do tomorrow?" asked Qui-Gon, trying to ignore the way his padawan's fork futilely chased the food around, and off, his plate.
The sturdy fingers, so much better suited to holding a saber or flying a ship, felt around the plate and pushed a piece of broca onto the fork. Then Obi-Wan was chewing, a pensive look on his face. Qui-Gon knew that were it not for the cloth across his padawan's eyes, that Obi-Wan would be looking into space, gaze focussed on the possibilities.
He cursed himself. How could they survive the next days when every single question, everything they did, was fraught with reminders of what was lost? This was supposed to be easier now that they were back at the temple and knew that Obi-Wan's blindness was temporary, but it wasn't. But then he was distracted by the smile that bloomed across Obi-Wan's face.
"I would very much like to go to the Garden of Blossoms before dawn and watch the sunrise."
Qui-Gon's mouth dropped open and he stared at Obi-Wan, aghast. "But..."
"I'd like to remember that I don't necessarily need my eyes to see," said Obi-Wan softly.
December 20, 2000
Obi-Wan watched as the wizened old man prepared their meal. He'd folded his hands in his lap some time ago to still their betraying twitch. It would have been an insult to their hosts to offer help, but it was hard to curb his innate impulse to render aide. Years of training and his own nature made it nearly impossible to sit quietly and simply do nothing as their meal was prepared by a man who looked like the smallest breeze would knock him down.
The situation was made worse by the three day fast he and his master had taken part in. Obi-Wan could feel his stomach begin to growl as the odour of the food being prepared began to scent the air. He concentrated on his stomach, clenching his muscles and managing to ease the noise into a soft, barely audible rumble. At least worrying about rude noises took his mind off his need to offer assistance.
Glancing in his master's direction, Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon looking at him. Though his master's face remained as serene as his own, Obi-Wan could clearly read the amusement there. He didn't let it bother him though, he would have the last laugh. He knew what they were serving for dessert and how much his master disliked choco.
December 21, 2000
Kneeling, his hands plunged into the ground, Obi-Wan tried to concentrate on the Force that thrummed within the dirt. He knew it was teeming with life, knew that insects and other small creatures lived and died in it, knew that plants, grasses, trees, flowers put forth their roots and drew sustenance from the ground; a give and take that, at its most basic, was the essence of life. But even as he knew these things, he also knew that he was wrist deep in gritty, black soil. It was staining his skin and getting under his fingernails.
"Block out distractions and concentrate on the Force, Padawan."
"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, chagrined that his master had read him so easily.
He tried to focus on the Force, on the living things that habituated the ground, but his concentration was broken once again as a fat dollop fell onto the tip of his nose, a second pelting his cheek. Rain.
Biting back a groan, Obi-Wan tried to keep from imagining what the ground would feel like beneath his fingers once the rain had thoroughly saturated it, turning it to slick mud.
He had a feeling he was going to be at this lesson for a long time.
December 22, 2000
Qui-Gon pressed Obi-Wan to the ground, holding him there with the weight of his body.
"Can you feel it?" he asked urgently.
"Yes, Master!" cried Obi-Wan, hips leaving the ground and pushing up as he blindly searched for Qui-Gon's body.
"Tell me."
"It's hard and hot, vital..."
"The Force, Obi-Wan, not me. Concentrate." Qui-Gon took his arms and pulled them above his head, pressing them into the mud. Qui-Gon's ankles hooked around his own, pushing his legs down with equal force.
"But it's coming from you, too, Master. Like a long hard pulse of need and want and love. Far stronger than the Force from the earth."
"Not stronger, Padawan, different. Feel me, feel the earth. Do you feel it?"
"I'm not sure."
Letting him go, Qui-Gon stood. "Take your clothes off."
"But I'll get covered in mud."
"I'll lick it off you if I have to."
Obi-Wan stripped and lay back, Qui-Gon once again covering his body, pressing him into the earth.
And he could feel it.
He could feel it; his master above him, the ground beneath. Different, but both flooding through him now, like twin lovers heat and cold, surging around him and in him. They were a part of each other and both a part of him, he them. As brilliance exploded behind his tightly shut eyelids, he realised that he'd been trying too hard, that he'd been looking for something outside of himself when all along it had been within him, a part of his soul.
December 23, 2000
"That's it? That's the whole thing?" asked Obi-Wan, incredulously.
"You are disappointed, hmm?" Master Yoda's ears twitched, but his face remained serious.
"I was just expecting...more," admitted the boy.
"Why?"
"You said ceremony," accused Obi-Wan.
Master Yoda frowned. "Changed the meaning of the word has? Ceremony now means long?"
"Well, no, but they always are," confided Obi-Wan.
"Agree with you, I do," said Master Yoda, pointing at Obi-Wan's tea cup. The boy picked it up, hiding a grimace, and waited for Master Yoda to pick up his own. When they'd both finished their tea, Obi-Wan refilled Master Yoda's cup and the ancient master did the same for him.
"A ceremony needs only to come from here, hrm?" Master Yoda reached out one three fingered claw to Obi-Wan's heart and then to his head. "Importance comes from you, not the actions."
"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, nodding.
"Add to it you may. Make it your own, hmm."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't think I'll be drinking tea without you, Master Yoda."
The ancient master chuckled. "Know I do, how you feel about tea." Master Yoda's eyes closed slowly and his ears turned in opposite directions. "But changes I see in your future. Big changes."
"If you say so, Master Yoda."
Obi-Wan fought down another grimace and finished his tea, following the bitter, earthy taste with handful of the delicious sweet breads that Master Yoda always served with the awful brew.
He liked spending time with Master Yoda and having to drink tea seemed like a small price to pay. But that didn't mean he was ever going to drink it by choice.
December 24, 2000
It had been a hard mission, Obi-Wan's first hands-on experience with warfare. It had been awful, but they were home now and Ob-Wan couldn't wait to go to sleep, safe and quiet, in his own clean bed.
"Will you have a cup of tea with me?" asked Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan paused on his way to his own small room and then nodded. "Yes, Master." He didn't like tea, but he knew his master liked it almost as much as Master Yoda did and as his master had saved his life on this last mission, it was the least he could do.
Obi-Wan went to the kitchen and brought out the teapot full of water, a small tin with the tea leaves and two of the thick mugs his master favoured. Placing them on the low table in their common room, he knelt across from his master.
Using the Force, Qui-Gon heated the water in the pot. He took a handful of dried leaves and let them fall through his fingers into the pot. Taking his mug, he turned it until the handle faced him. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as he recognised the simple ceremony.
"To honour my master," Qui-Gon said softly. Obi-Wan nodded and added his own small handful of leaves to the pot before turning his own mug until the handle faced his body.
His master then poured out a small measure of the tea into his cup and swirled it around before returning it to the tea pot. "A gesture to make the ceremony my own," he explained to Obi-Wan.
"One day, when you are ready," he continued, as Obi-Wan again copied the movements, careful not to burn himself, "we will add something of you to the ceremony."
"Me? But I don't even like tea!"
Qui-Gon chuckled. "I know, but one day you might come to appreciate the value of the ceremony and want to make it your own. And if that happens while you are still my padawan, I would be honoured to share that with you."
"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan, a rush of pleasure going through him at his master's words. As he drank the tea, for the first time, he hoped that one day he would enjoy the flavour of the brew.
December 25, 2000
They had all the fixings for tea on the low table beside them: a pot full of water, the tin from Sinoria, with its ghost-like carvings, full of dried leaves, and two simple, thick clay-fired mugs.
Qui-Gon had prepared everything in anticipation of a quiet cup of tea, but Obi-Wan had waylaid him, pushing Qui-Gon to the floor and making love to him, ravishing the long, rangy body. It had been far better, far more intimate than sharing tea and now Qui-Gon lay beside him, flat on the rug, ragged breathing slowing to normal.
Obi-Wan leaned up on one elbow and grinned as he looked down on his master's prostrate form. his clothing was torn open, pushed up and aside, and his hair was in wild disarray. Obi-Wan decided he liked the look on his normally sedate master.
Qui-Gon's lips parted and Obi-Wan watched as the agile tongue darted forward to moisten the kiss-bruised lips. His master drew a breath and Obi-Wan leaned down to cover the open mouth with his own. The kiss lingered: gentle, soft and warm. Eventually Obi-Wan moved back.
"I know," he said, unable to hide his grin. "You would like your tea now, please."
Qui-Gon smiled at him, a deep smile that painted creases around the blue eyes. Obi-Wan turned his attention to the pot and concentrated on heating the water in it with the Force before leaning over Qui-Gon's body and drawing a handful of the dried leaves. He let them sift through his fingers into the water, watching as the clear liquid began to darken.
Sitting up, he turned both mugs until their handles faced Qui-Gon and himself. "To honour my master's master," he said softly. Pouring a small measure of the tea into each cup, he swirled it around and then returned it to the pot. "To honour my master," he said, voice grown husky. Qui-Gon's hand took one of Obi-Wan's and squeezed lightly.
Obi-Wan smiled and poured out the tea, smiling as he realised he was enjoying the earthy smell that rose on the steam. He gave Qui-Gon a long look, waiting until his master's eyes met his own. Taking Qui-Gon's mug, he took a mouthful of the hot brew, swallowing it's warmth into himself. He handed his master the mug. "A gesture to make the ceremony my own."
Qui-Gon sat up next to him and accepted the cup from Obi-Wan. Then, taking Obi-Wan's mug, he took a sip and then passed the cup back to Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan drank deeply of his own tea, his master finally spoke.
"Be careful you don't drown."
December 26, 2000
Obi-Wan brought out the pot full of water, the small tin of dried leaves and two mugs. He moved through the ritual without thinking, heating the water automatically and letting the brittle segments drop through his fingers. He turned the cups.
Picking up the pot, his hand began to tremble as he poured a small measure of the tea into each cup, the lip clinking against the rims like teeth chattering in the cold. He set the pot down with a thud.
A three fingered claw gently touched his chest, near his heart. "He lives here and here," the odd hand moved to touch Obi-Wan's head. "With you always he is."
"I know, I just..."
"Miss him, hrm?"
"Yes." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and for a moment let Master Yoda's compassion wash over him. Then he opened his eyes and took his cup in his hand, gently swirling the liquid within and returning it to the pot.
"To honour my master," he said softly, smiling as Master Yoda copied the gesture.
"To honour my padawan," said the old master and Obi-Wan could hear his own grief echoed in the gruff voice.
Side by side, they drank their tea slowly, their hearts and thoughts on the one who wasn't with them.
December 27, 2000
"I was just going to have some tea, Padawan. Would you like to join me?"
"Yes, please, Master."
Obi-Wan added a second cup to the tray and brought it in to the common room.
"You like tea? Because there's juice or purified water," he offered, remembering his own dislike for the hot beverage when he was young.
"No, thanks. I like tea. My mom used to make it whenever I got back from Watto's. I was our own special way of saying hi." Anakin looked down, the bristly ends of his braid touching the underside of his chin.
Obi-Wan's fingers twitched and he followed the impulse, reaching out and smoothing the slender thread of hair behind Anakin's neck. He realised it was a gesture he'd seen performed by every Jedi with a padawan, his own master included. Anakin looked up again at the touch.
"Having tea reminds me of her; it makes me sad," the boy said softly. "That's good though, I think."
"It makes me think of Qui-Gon. And you're right - it is good."
Heating the water with the Force, Obi-Wan reached for the loose leaves.
December 28, 2000
"Hey, what's that you're doing?" asked Luke as he squeezed into the space next to the low table, knocking a knee on the hard wood. He could have chosen to sit in the chair across from Yoda, but he probably would have crushed it and then it would be just one more thing for the annoying little being to complain about. The annoying little being who was supposed to be teaching him how to become a Jedi, but who seemed intent on driving him crazy instead. If he'd wanted to fetch and carry he could have stayed at home.
"Tea," came the curt answer and he watched as Yoda swirled tea around the bottom of a cup before pouring it back into the pot.
"I saw Ben doing that!" exclaimed Luke. "Exactly like that. He said he was..."
"Honouring old friends," finished Yoda, turning to look intently at a point beyond Luke's shoulder.
"Yeah." Luke looked back but didn't see anyone behind him. "You keep doing that."
Yoda's attention moved back to him, ears turning forward, and Luke had to keep himself from squirming under the intense scrutiny.
"It's like you're talking with someone who isn't there," Luke finished, discomfited.
"Friends remembered are never gone."
"You mean by remembering Ben, it's like I always have him with me?"
"Hrmph," replied the old gnome, looking past him again. "Right you might be. Maybe teach him I can. Maybe."
December 29, 2000
Luke welcomed the new recruits into the common room of his quarters. "Please, sit," he said with a smile - indicating the brightly coloured cushions spread around the low table. They hurried to obey him and once sitting, watched him with solemn eyes.
He knew he intimidated them - most of the new students first met him at the formal intake meeting where he was not only the superintendent of the New Jedi Academy, but also brother to the famous Leia Solo and a Hero of the New Republic. That was one of the reasons why he tried to have the group of newcomers for tea in his quarters at the earliest opportunity.
The other reason...well there were few ties here to the past, and while that was probably, on the whole, a good thing, it was important to remember that there were those who had come before them.
Luke carefully heated the water in the pot with the Force and then sprinkled the dry tea leaves into it. He poured a bit of water into a small, brown, clay cup and swirled it around before returning the water to the pot.
"The Jedi have existed for thousands of years," he told the initiates, all children this year and ranging from four to fifteen. "Unfortunately there is very little left of the original temples, but my teachers passed on one tradition that, as I understand it, goes back, in one variation or another, to the very first Jedi."
Luke filled the small cup, to the brim this time, and took a sip before placing it carefully in front of the empty cushion to his left. He then filled a cup for each of the children and himself.
"We remember the traditions we have come from and bring the Force full circle by honouring this particular tradition. And I need all of you to help me in this." Luke picked up his cup and drank, the children following suit. He hid his smile behind his cup at the various responses to the mild brew; most drinking politely, one or two actually seeming to enjoy the drink, while one little boy's face twisted into several unhappy grimaces.
They drank silently together and Luke had finished his when the boy who had grimaced spoke up.
"Sir?"
"Master Luke will do," suggested Luke.
"Master Luke," said the boy, voice sounding more confident this time. "What's the extra cup for?"
Luke smiled, unsurprised that the one of this group to ask the question was this small child with the large, inquisitive eyes that never seemed quite the same colour. Something in the boy's face reminded him of Ben. Or perhaps it was just the ceremony that he had, over the years, made his own, that brought Ben so easily to mind.
"This cup," said Luke, "is for the Jedi who came before us. When Jedi die they become One with the Force and are with us always. We pour a cup of tea in case, in remembering them, one should wish to share a moment with us."
"The cup is empty!" exclaimed the girl sitting closest.
The children looked around, two even getting up to examine the cup for themselves. They began to murmur among themselves.
Luke sat back and smiled as a soft cackle sounded beneath the chatter of the children.
December 30, 2000
Obi-Wan walked slowly down the gangplank, his boots echoing. Standing in the shadow of the Queen's ship he still had to squint against the glare as he watched the small group head for town, led by his master. Heat rose from the sand in shimmering waves, blurring the tall figure.
A strange feeling came over him, a flash of precognition like he'd had on the Trade Federation ship and he wanted to call his master back, to hold Qui-Gon close and safe within his arms. But he didn't.
Instead, he watched until their figures grew tiny in the distance before disappearing completely behind the shimmering curtain of heat and then he returned to the engine room to tinker waiting for his bad feeling to fade.
December 31, 2000
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both bowed as they were greeted at the door by an acolyte of Lussia. The old woman, dressed in a simple white gown led them to a small chamber.
"Leave your clothing here and enter the temple through this door," she said, pointing to the door across from the one through which they had come.
"All our clothing?" asked Qui-Gon.
"And your weapons, too," she responded. "You need not be ashamed, the Light of Lussia will clothe you." Bowing, she slipped out the same way she had brought them.
They undressed quickly, leaving their clothes stacked in two neat piles on a small bench.
"Padawan?" asked Qui-Gon softly.
"I'm ready, Master," replied Obi-Wan. He fell into step behind Qui-Gon as they walked through the door into the temple of Lussia, Sonari god of Life and Light.
Obi-Wan gasped as they came into the room, surprised joy filling him at that sight that awaited him.
The temple was round with walls reaching up to twice his master's height and topped by a dome of clear glass. Hundreds of small glass prisms hung at different heights, some low enough for him to touch, others nearly at the ceiling. Each prism caught the light and reflected it outward, split into all its colours. The process was repeated over and over until the entire room shone with colour.
The congregation were all nude, standing in every widening circles around the centre of the room and they sang softly in Sonari, the lilting language beautiful within the music.
Every thing and every one, he and Qui-Gon included, were bathed in the light. The acolyte had spoken literally and Obi-Wan didn't feel naked at all; his every changing raiment of brightly coloured light was as beautiful as anything he had ever seen.
On to January 2001's Snapshots