Star Wars: Chorus and Solo: Part 3
Mar. 4th, 2016 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Perhaps not every Sith, the feminine voice concedes, her voice dripping smug satisfaction. I had no use for keeping Bane, and there have been some... less sane ancients who have gone silent.
That doesn't help.
Obi-Wan's eyes fly open as he thinks he hears Qui-Gon speak. Not just a presence between him and the Sith, but someone to talk to as well, to tell them to leave him be. Except that can't be possible, it can't, everything he's been taught says there is nothing past death, just the Force.
The feminine Sith snorts, and Obi-Wan has the distinct impression that she's rolling her eyes. Than what do they call holocrons? Sith Tombs?
"Force-imbued artifacts and tools, and dangerous places no one is to go." Obi-Wan doesn't think anyone's actually attempted to go anywhere near the Stygian Cauldera in his lifetime, much less to Korriban itself. Though he wonders if it would be any more dark than what he's surrounded with right now.
Oh, it would be. And you are in no way ready to go to Korriban.
He can feel the agreement radiating from all three of them - and, too, from the rest of the otherwise silent Sith. If nothing else, that much his mind is in agreement about. Obi-Wan hadn't been particularly thinking about going there, just curious. He thinks. If the thought hadn't been something whispered by some insidious corner of darkness in his mind.
What would be the point? A sane Sith is far better than an insane Dark Jedi. And less boring.
If he didn't know better, he'd think the feminine Sith is settling down to sit next to him. Carefully leaving distance between them, a respect to him and to Qui-Gon's protective bristling, but there, nonetheless. Obi-Wan draws a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He can't let his emotions go with it, but the old breathing exercise at least helps him to find a small, stable center to the whirling chaos. A tiny spot of stillness, even if it's not calm.
"What's the difference? How can I not go insane with this," Obi-Wan frees one hand from the death-grip he has on his hair to gesture around himself, the darkness eddying as he does so, "all around me?" He lets out a brief laugh. "And that's assuming I'm not already insane, talking to figments of imagination and empty air."
I don't think even your imagination is enough to dream up everything the Sith know. Why do you think you're struggling? You have all the knowledge, but not a shred of idea how to use it. And you need to learn, or you will go insane.
There's a brief moment of someone almost touching him, but not quite. Obi-Wan isn't sure if he'd welcome whatever comfort the Sith is trying to offer him, or he'd just go over sideways avoiding her.
Warmth radiates from the other side, Qui-Gon wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and if he didn't think he would fall over, Obi-Wan would lean into the welcome sensation.
She's right about that, at least.
There is agreement humming through the Force, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He can't learn to be a Sith, how to use their knowledge, and still be a Jedi. And all he's ever known to be is Jedi. How can he give that all up, and become something else, something he was taught is wrong?
Because if the Jedi find out, they'll kill you, and someone else will have this gift, and you'll be a part of it. A perhaps insane part of it, but part of it regardless.
"Not if I approach the right Jedi first." He thinks. He hopes. Though how can he be certain of who would take the time to listen to him?
If you learn how to use it first, they never need know you're Sith. No longer a Jedi, perhaps. Left their Order, certainly, but if you know what you're doing, you can hide being a Sith.
The female Sith doesn't sound entirely happy about that idea, but the suggestion is sound. Even if it's not one that Obi-Wan likes.
We can begin now.
Obi-Wan lets go of his hair to scrub his hand through it instead, rubbing at his abused scalp, and keeping his eyes shut. It's easier to imagine the Sith and Qui-Gon if he doesn't see the empty room. Easier to believe they're real. The pacing Zabrak whose anger seems leashed for now, and is laced with vicious amusement. The human woman sitting on one side of him, eyes amber-gold and a small smile on her face. And Qui-Gon on the other side, close enough to touch, even to lean against, if he had substance.
The sooner he learns, the sooner he can crawl out of this closet and rejoin the rest of the galaxy.
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Perhaps not every Sith, the feminine voice concedes, her voice dripping smug satisfaction. I had no use for keeping Bane, and there have been some... less sane ancients who have gone silent.
That doesn't help.
Obi-Wan's eyes fly open as he thinks he hears Qui-Gon speak. Not just a presence between him and the Sith, but someone to talk to as well, to tell them to leave him be. Except that can't be possible, it can't, everything he's been taught says there is nothing past death, just the Force.
The feminine Sith snorts, and Obi-Wan has the distinct impression that she's rolling her eyes. Than what do they call holocrons? Sith Tombs?
"Force-imbued artifacts and tools, and dangerous places no one is to go." Obi-Wan doesn't think anyone's actually attempted to go anywhere near the Stygian Cauldera in his lifetime, much less to Korriban itself. Though he wonders if it would be any more dark than what he's surrounded with right now.
Oh, it would be. And you are in no way ready to go to Korriban.
He can feel the agreement radiating from all three of them - and, too, from the rest of the otherwise silent Sith. If nothing else, that much his mind is in agreement about. Obi-Wan hadn't been particularly thinking about going there, just curious. He thinks. If the thought hadn't been something whispered by some insidious corner of darkness in his mind.
What would be the point? A sane Sith is far better than an insane Dark Jedi. And less boring.
If he didn't know better, he'd think the feminine Sith is settling down to sit next to him. Carefully leaving distance between them, a respect to him and to Qui-Gon's protective bristling, but there, nonetheless. Obi-Wan draws a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He can't let his emotions go with it, but the old breathing exercise at least helps him to find a small, stable center to the whirling chaos. A tiny spot of stillness, even if it's not calm.
"What's the difference? How can I not go insane with this," Obi-Wan frees one hand from the death-grip he has on his hair to gesture around himself, the darkness eddying as he does so, "all around me?" He lets out a brief laugh. "And that's assuming I'm not already insane, talking to figments of imagination and empty air."
I don't think even your imagination is enough to dream up everything the Sith know. Why do you think you're struggling? You have all the knowledge, but not a shred of idea how to use it. And you need to learn, or you will go insane.
There's a brief moment of someone almost touching him, but not quite. Obi-Wan isn't sure if he'd welcome whatever comfort the Sith is trying to offer him, or he'd just go over sideways avoiding her.
Warmth radiates from the other side, Qui-Gon wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and if he didn't think he would fall over, Obi-Wan would lean into the welcome sensation.
She's right about that, at least.
There is agreement humming through the Force, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He can't learn to be a Sith, how to use their knowledge, and still be a Jedi. And all he's ever known to be is Jedi. How can he give that all up, and become something else, something he was taught is wrong?
Because if the Jedi find out, they'll kill you, and someone else will have this gift, and you'll be a part of it. A perhaps insane part of it, but part of it regardless.
"Not if I approach the right Jedi first." He thinks. He hopes. Though how can he be certain of who would take the time to listen to him?
If you learn how to use it first, they never need know you're Sith. No longer a Jedi, perhaps. Left their Order, certainly, but if you know what you're doing, you can hide being a Sith.
The female Sith doesn't sound entirely happy about that idea, but the suggestion is sound. Even if it's not one that Obi-Wan likes.
We can begin now.
Obi-Wan lets go of his hair to scrub his hand through it instead, rubbing at his abused scalp, and keeping his eyes shut. It's easier to imagine the Sith and Qui-Gon if he doesn't see the empty room. Easier to believe they're real. The pacing Zabrak whose anger seems leashed for now, and is laced with vicious amusement. The human woman sitting on one side of him, eyes amber-gold and a small smile on her face. And Qui-Gon on the other side, close enough to touch, even to lean against, if he had substance.
The sooner he learns, the sooner he can crawl out of this closet and rejoin the rest of the galaxy.