Jedi Council Forums - Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku

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Author	Topic: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
Charmisjess Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 7/29/06 12:40pm Subject: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku - Date Edited: 1/2/07 5:29pm (5 edits total) Edited By: Charmisjess
	Author's Note: I thought I'd do a little series of shorts giving some limelight to the forgotten lovelies of the Star Wars world: the Jedi women. I’ve been having a lot of trouble writing my Qui-Gon and Dooku lately, and it’s nice to have a break. I’m so tired of boys. Sometimes you just have to go back to the estrogen. Anyway, also, um, Tori Amos songfic theme. All lyrics are her's. Special thanks to the marvelous, beautiful, and all around amazing Becjedi for beta. POV Bant Eerin from Jedi Apprentice. I guess I'm an underwater thing so I Guess I can't take it personally I guess I'm an underwater thing I'm liquid running There's a sea secret in me It's plain to see it is rising -o- At night the long halls of the Jedi Temple are lit with blue, just like an aquarium, just for me. All I am anymore is blue and underwater. I only move in the night now, when the air feels cooler, and there are less of the glittering eyes to watch me. Deep into the blue corridors I go, retracing the steps I crept so hopefully as a girl, remembering back when things were. I do not carry a lightsaber anymore, as I no longer carry a Padawan. I am neither warrior, nor teacher. Master Fisto keeps my weapon on his hip, just behind his own, and some days I think that it is his heaviest burden. “Bant,” he said to me, three months after Geonosis in his gentlest of voices, barely a whisper. “Maybe I should keep your lightsaber for you. Just for now, Padawan. Just until you’re feeling better.” He says that like he truly believes I will start to feel better at some point, like the fact that I was unable to keep my new Padawan alive in the arena will cease to matter, soon enough. I am told that I am mad, because it still matters to me, years later. I think it’s silly that he thinks I would use a lightsaber to harm myself. No, it would be an underwater thing. It would be as all those years ago, how Xanatos tried to kill me. Drowned Mon Calamarian. Sitting on the bottom of the lake, counting to find my limit. I know that he never means to give it back. I realize now that even Jedi Masters don’t always tell the truth. Especially Jedi Masters. It’s all right, Kit, I didn’t want my blade anymore, anyway. I am not a warrior; I am a ghost. I miss Obi-Wan most of all. We have a system, he and I. We have a place, just behind a waterfall in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. A rock room, where he leaves me wonderful letters on everything: his missions, his failings, his Padawan. He asks how I am. He asks to see me. Sometimes I know that he watches that place, waiting in hope of seeing me come to leave my own gifts. I never let him see me. I don’t know why he would ever even want to; I will never understand the human species fascination with staring at the dead and dying. I didn’t look at Master Tahl’s body even once; Qui-Gon practically drank her with his eyes. Obi-Wan and I both know that I am certainly dying. I have a great many conversations with Master Tahl, even now. Especially now. She comes to me in the evening, in that dusky hour when the Coruscant sunset hits the garden’s lake, and both the sky and water are splashed with red. Tahl looks glamorous in the red. She swims with me every evening now, and I ask her all of the things that I was too shy to say when it mattered. She’s so pretty in that human way, rich and colorful. I never expected death to stop her, so I was more relieved than shocked when she started showing up again. Tahl was always that way, always beautiful, clever, funny, and tragic. Her life was so brimming, and I never truly fit into it. Sometimes, I hate her. I can still remember the way the air burned on New Apsolon, when Obi-Wan and I talked about what had happened between our Masters. I had told him their love was the saddest thing of all then, in my meek, miserable way. Now I tell Tahl what I really think. “You were selfish,” I cry, into the red water. “Both you and Qui-Gon!” She just laughs, like she understands, and is a little bit sorry. We both know it. She shouldn’t have taken me if she didn’t want me. Qui-Gon shouldn’t have been a Jedi, if he wanted to be in love. They had to tempt Fate, and Fate punished them for their sin by taking my Master’s life. My selfish, beautiful Master. I tell Master Fisto about these underwater visits with Master Tahl, and he simply looks at me, with those black, fathomless Nautiloid eyes. I am a flash of slip-shape silver in his gaze. Poor Master Fisto. Things would have gone so much better if I had simply started as his Padawan, instead of Tahl’s. Kit’s so warm, and bright, and wriggling in the Force, so eager to love, and be loved, but never in the wrong way. Never like my scarlet Tahl. If I had been only his Padawan, I might have never felt that first break. In the end, it was Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon encouraged Tahl to take me as her Padawan, even if she didn’t really want to. (I wanted my Padawan.) Qui-Gon thought he knew everything. This is really all Qui-Gon’s fault. Sometimes I ask Tahl about how he is, and she smiles, as if to say ‘you’ll see.’ As if the joke is on the Force, and Qui-Gon Jinn, who couldn’t protect her, has something wonderful planned to fix everything. Talk his fatal Master back to our side. Undo the war. Qui-Gon, who I never forgave for taking Obi-Wan away, for besmirching Tahl’s memory with his dark melodrama, and of course, for what he did to Obi-Wan in his own death-play. Sometimes, like Tahl, I hate Qui-Gon as much as I miss him. Tonight in our secret place, I leave a strange bluish rock I found in one of my dives for Obi-Wan. It’s always a little something, a drawing, or a woven band of grass. I would write him a letter, but what would I say? Dear Obi-Wan, today I went swimming… Tonight, a hurricane is brewing on Coruscant. We underwater things can always feel it. Obi-Wan's hateful Padawan goes again to the Chancellor, and Mace Windu is billowing in the Force. My Master Kit smells like fate tonight. Things are starting to sink. I have never learnt to let go of the death feeling. I can smell it anywhere. Tonight, I will hide from it, in my gentle element. Underneath, it is quiet and safe. The lake greets me, feeling smooth and soft, thicker and richer somehow, than usual. Over-stirred, warm cream. I slip inside of it without making a splash, and drift to the bottom. I begin to count. -o- ...next lady up? Possibly Shaak Ti. Or Jocasta Nu. Or Aayla Secura. I have a bunch in mind. If anyone has suggestions, too, let me know. -----signature----- I <3 Starrie. Strange Little Girls-> http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/24496675/p1/?0 Where are you going?
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Persephone_Kore Title: TFN Fan Fiction Archive Editor Registered: Jan '06	Date Posted: 8/5/06 7:40pm Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl - Date Edited: 8/5/06 9:49pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Persephone_Kore
	Ohh... spooky. I can see the whole thing... or perhaps not see what's happening so clearly, but these not-wholly-distinct images, watery-distorted, in blue water and red light coming through it. And it aches, even though I have only a very dim idea of Bant and that mostly from mentions in other fics. It feels like crying, but the tears are all outside. The way you write her feels very real, feels very much like the character is a person, but I won't say it feels human because the alien touches -- the staying in water, the way she would die if she chose to, the way humans are alien to her in their color and their turning toward the dead -- these work, and they are a strong reminder that "person" in Star Wars doesn't mean human and that there might be differences, in instinct and biology, even among those raised the same. I can feel her affection and sorrow over Kit, and the way it hurts him to carry her lightsaber, and her love and frustration with Tahl. And I wanted my Padawan could nearly make me cry, if I sink into her far enough. Charmisjess posted: Obi-Wan's hateful Padawan goes again to the Chancellor, and Mace Windu is billowing in the Force. My Master Kit smells like fate tonight. Things are starting to sink. I have never learnt to let go of the death feeling. I can smell it anywhere. Tonight, I will hide from it, in my gentle element. Underneath, it is quiet and safe. The lake greets me, feeling smooth and soft, thicker and richer somehow, than usual. Over-stirred, warm cream. I slip inside of it without making a splash, and drift to the bottom. I begin to count. So vivid, most of it not visual -- the visuals are soft and blurry, but the feeling -- She's not hiding, is she? She's going to meet it alone. -----signature----- Protégé: Chosen: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/28612428 Protégé: Padawans: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/29531610 A Rose in the Ashes: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/29028814 Lost Ones: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/29061459
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anakin_luver Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 8/5/06 8:11pm Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl
	oh gosh, that was absolutely magnificent. very eerie, but soft - and beautiful. very fitting to the underwater theme. your words just sort of clicked together for me. smooth and fluent. like silent, gentle waves... I begin to count. i think i know what's happening, but sometimes i'm so blind to certain things. i'd love it if you could clarify my suspicions. she's drowning herself, right? and if i'm wrong then feel free to call me stupid and tell me what's really happening. what can i say? just adored it i did. and more i can't wait for. is it possible that you could PM me when you update? wonderful job, so elegantly lovely. ahhh! wonderful.
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leia_naberrie Registered: Sep '02	Date Posted: 8/6/06 1:59am Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl
	<gasps as I break to the surface> -----signature----- http://io9.com/5111680/avatar-casting-makes-fans-see-white Upset about the casting for the Last Airbender movies? Write to Paramount about it. http://aang-aint-white.livejournal.com/1007.html
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___Sithspawn___ Registered: Aug '04	Date Posted: 8/6/06 5:25am Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl
	You've definitely captured that blurry, eerie underwater feel; I can just picture everything. Bant's point of view was very realistic. The ending was haunting. -----signature----- I am severely DRL-afflicted. See profile for (old) fics. "As long as there are slaughterhouses, there will be battlefields." -- Leo Tolstoy
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Princess_Arulmozhi Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 8/6/06 6:54am Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl
	Such a beautiful, evocative piece, my dear. Breathtaking. I love the way Bant is ... somehow, not defined, and her uncanny ability to understand what's going, and the way she describes Tahl and Qui-Gon. <Shudders> She feels like a lost ghost-child. And her affection for Obi-Wan, and the way she thinks about Qui-Gon ... Amazing! -----signature----- Perceptions (Xanatos/Obi/Qui/Anakin) AU:http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/25276178/p1/?7 - vignette Stones (Li'l Obi/Qui) - http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/23371821/p1/ Best Author, WFFA (BtS) 05/06 Lore-Master to 7
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honour Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 8/7/06 6:20pm Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl
	Truly wonderful, this! There isn't enough written about the women of SW. I look forward to the next one. As for suggestions other than those you are already considering: Luminara Unduli, Bariss(spelling?) Offee, Depa...
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Charmisjess Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 9/4/06 9:06pm Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi, Qui, Tahl - Date Edited: 9/4/06 9:07pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Charmisjess
	Ack, sorry it's taken me so long to reply to these! I went back to college, and my life crashed. o.o Persephone_Kore: Aw...you're always so kind to me. I'm really happy you liked my Bant. I spent a lot of time angsting over her. She's one of those characters I've always liked well enough, just never honestly much considered. Getting into her head was very interesting. She's become very dear to me. And, her nonhumanness! I always have such a hard time writing characters that aren't human. Actually, um, I have a hard time writing females, too. Thank you for the reassurances. anakin_luver: grins Consider yourself PM listed. And, oh--no, you got it just fine. I left that bit particularly vague on purpose...I mean, it would be presumptious of me to kill off Bant! I thought that part was best left to the reader's interpretation: maybe she's drowning herself, maybe she's waiting to face her fate. Hey, maybe she's waiting to drag some clones into the lake. shrugs She's far too classic a character for me to fate. Thank you so much for such a kind review! leia_naberrie: pulls you up ___Sithspawn___: Thank you! Bant can be very eerie, I think. She's always been Obi-Wan's little ghost. Princess: Hee, oh, Bant really has some issues with Qui-Gon. It's no good sitting around all your life, thinking of what you should have said to a bunch of people who are dead. Thank you for such a sweet review! I always appreciate your opinion. honour: Great suggestions! I'll definitely give Depa a shot, and I'd love to try Luminara. I don't know how well I'd write her though. Well, we'll see. Next up...um. Well, I want to write Aayla, but Komari keeps trying to cut Qui-Gon with her shiny twin 'sabers. Go figure. But soon. -----signature----- I <3 Starrie. Strange Little Girls-> http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/24496675/p1/?0 Where are you going?
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Charmisjess Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/2/07 5:27pm Subject: RE: Underwater Thing: Bant, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Tahl
	Title: Honey Author: Charmisjess Characters: Jocasta Nu, Dooku Rating: PG-13 Author's Note: Ack, sorry this took so long! These things take longer to write than anticipated! I hope you enjoy this; I so adored writing Jocasta's POV. Thanks again to Roo for beta, and again, lyrics and title belong to Tori Amos. -~- And I think I could leave your world If she was the better girl So when we died I tried to bribe the undertaker Cause I'm not sure what you're doing Or the reasons You're just too used to my honey, now -~- It is as dark as the Coruscant night gets, and my often too-pragmatic heart is stirred with fears of haunting. It all began with a sound, a soft clink, like fingernails on metal. I move through the abnormally darkened corridors of my Archives, particularly aware of the gentle weight of my lightsaber secure at my waist. A glowlamp sends creamy gold light flickering in front of my footsteps—a companion of meager substance, hardly enough to ease my suspicions. I sense nothing. No disturbance near the holonet terminals, or over by the lines of shelves, where the holobook titles glow a soft blue. In this the barest of lights, I can only just make out the shapes of the busts in the corridor of the Lost Twenty. I understand being alone far better than most. It is something I have had to come to terms with nearly a lifetime ago. It isn't the strange emptiness of the Archives that bothers me tonight, or the weighty darkness. (Those qualities have always been my companions.) A spider's thread of unease draws me closer. Something is terribly wrong here... And there again is the tapping. I ignite my lightsaber and bring it up in first guard. (As he taught me.) These are dangerous times. We can all sense it. The Temple rests on the edge of a blade, barely preserved from being torn between the powers. Everything about our lives has become precarious. The sanctity of this place has long ago been violated. I clutch my saber tighter, and wish again that I had thought to carry along a comlink. Click-Tap. Click-Tap. Click-Tap. It occurs to me that I would die to protect this library. One foot's turn down the hall of the Lost. The feeling fills my chest up with burning. Something is moving. And there. There lingering by our most recent pedestal, a mirror image of the bust, excepting color and the illusion of softness stands Dooku. Ridiculous. I swallow hard and blink at the specter. He seems as he always has, a picture of ease and steady grace in spite of his own impossibility. Near-black eyes study the bronzed ones with an air of appraisal, and his lips twitching up with mingled amusement and distaste. Evidently, he has been aware of my own presence for some time, for though he doesn't turn, he speaks. His voice fills up the dark air. “Do you think it a decent likeness, Jo?” “You shouldn’t be here!” The words cross my lips unbidden, even as my body jolts forward. It doesn't make any sense. It has been years, years of war, that machine of history that had cut us eternally apart. And yet here he stands in my Archive, appraising a statue of himself, dressed just as I'd had last seen him, right down to the Jedi robes, the color of bloodied mud. Has he simply slipped into his old tunics again, and crept into the Temple, unnoticed? “No?” He queries, lightly. Inside there is a burst of energy, the wild desire to run for help, but I remain frozen, watching as his arm lifts, almost touches the regal shape of the nose on the bust, and then drops. “Where should I be, then, if I’m no longer welcome in your beautiful library?” There is softness in his tone, almost hurt. The pause is throbbing. For him, I can give no answer. He knows that. “You’re here to mock me.” I whisper slowly, beginning to shake my head in sick realization. He looks dismayed. “I’m here for tea.” “You don’t like tea,” I swallow, warily. “I’ve missed our talks.” His eyes meet mine, almost as if in appeal. “I’ve missed you. Do you remember...?” Of course I remember. It sticks in my throat. It is the precious, preserved picture of rainy day conversations over a tea set in my quarters half a lifetime ago. It is his dark eyes, so rich then, laughing as he insisted on sugarless stimcaf in a rosy cup meant for tea. It is the leftover emotion of that time when Dooku would talk to me candidly, even eagerly about whatever disquieted or amused or interested him. Back when I had consequence to him. I feel oddly betrayed that he has brought it up at all; I have treasured the memory, even possessed it, and it wasn't right for him to ruin it for me. (It isn't right to keep cherished memories of future Sith Lords lying around either.) I change the subject. “A decent likeness, you asked?” I raise my eyes to the sculpture, my old nemesis. His bust stares back with pleasant brilliance as it always has, giving me both the haunting, mocking feeling of anger, and one of shattering loss, together. “It’s lifelike, I’m told. But I never remember you as you were when you left, Dooku.” I feel a ghost-smile hovering on my lips, and perhaps there is some reflected cruelty in it. I can only hope my memory burns him as much as his does me. “You were always immortalized at childish twenty in my memory.” (Why I am whispering?) “Immortalized?” Dooku finally steps closer, with the sound of a laugh. Looking at him now pooled in the yellow light of my lamp, he seems as if he could almost really go back to the youth I knew, except for the infinity of sadness in his eyes. “Now you sound like Qui-Gon.” “His little Tatooine legacy and Padawan harass me far more than you two ever did.” “Ah, the Vergence!” His tone curls abruptly with bitterness, a slice away from sarcasm. “It is a pity I missed these past few years, the Jedi Order basking in the glory of their Chosen One.” I set the glowlamp down, shaking my head slowly. I shouldn't have brought it up. “You always were awfully bad at losing.” “That’s why I didn’t ever lose.” The comment strikes an errant note in my mind. “Everyone has to lose sometime, Dooku.” “As you say, Master Nu.” His reply sounds sheepish, clipped close to innocent, as if he were simply one of the younglings I chasten for running in the archive or smudging a viewscreen. I cannot decipher if there is teasing in his voice. I'm sorry now for the sliver of mockery that had crept into my own tone, for the harsh anger he has stirred in my heart. There is a capacity for error in me, and perhaps I've been wrong about all of this. Perhaps he did come for tea. “You…you do know what they’re saying about you now, Brother, don’t you?” I deny the soft pleading that slips into my tone. (Tell me that you don’t know. Tell me that they were wrong.) Dooku’s shoulders rise in a reluctant shrug. Even his eloquence has its limits. He gives me no expression; his voice is flat. “The Council never liked me.” “No.” I feel a sudden flash fire of irritation at him for being here, for being so impossible, for forcing me to have this empty, torturous discussion now, now of all times, when it is far too late. My fists ball at my side, my voice snapping. “I do believe I know how this conversation goes, Dooku—or is it Count, now? The Council never liked you. Qui-Gon was slain because of them. Yoda didn’t love you enough to save you. No one listens to you. No one sees how awful it all is, except for you. No one can do anything about it except you. The Republic is corrupt. The Jedi are deaf. So to fix it, you contort yourself into the very thing you despise?” His tone is wry as ever. “They’re listening now, aren’t they?” “At what cost?!” “Are you looking for a specific figure, or is that rhetorical?” I am suddenly trembling. “—the cost was yourself!” “Rhetorical then, sorry Jo! It has been such a long time since I’ve been lectured by you…you’ll have to forgive me, I’m so terribly out of practice--” “You sell your soul for the sake of ideals, you destroy what is beautiful--" My voice breaks over the word. " --in yourself to protect beauty—don’t you see the contradiction?” “It was a war. War is contradiction.” “You’re as mad as they say.” The chill trickling down my spine solidifies into an icy purpose. “Leave.” “What?” “Go!” I turn my back to him, as much as my instincts warn against it. I can feel tiny, icy fires flickering in him now. “So now my ideas are too dangerous. Now that my powers are complete. But before, when we were both young and ineffective, and the conversation was pocket marked with who was winning what tournament, and what might be for supper--in other words--back when you trusted me, they were all right?!” I go still, my fingers curling and uncurling. “You don’t trust me.” I whirl again back to him, unable to help myself. “You betrayed me!” “When?!” He barks, taking a step forward. He nearly looks offended. I can't care. “It was you who deleted Kamino from the Archives!” My voice has gone frightfully girlish, hitching with dry tears. “It was you all along, and I told them the planet couldn't have ever existed. You had my access card, didn’t you? You practically framed me!” “I—” For once, I know he doesn’t have an answer for me. “You never had to lie, to frame me.” I am shaking so hard now. “I always protected you. I could have saved you from this, too, if you would have let me.” His eyes are black and fierce. “You abandoned me with the rest of them; you turned your back on me when I needed you the most--” “No!” It is too much. He is too close. Proximity is the spark that ignites the low fire in my chest, and I shove him away with violence he must have considered me incapable of, for he stumbles backward, suddenly unbalanced. I take my advantage. “Let me finish it, then!” Now on my feet, my lightsaber snaps to neon blue life in my hands and I am probably more surprised at myself than he is as I lunge. (I don’t think that I mean to kill him, but he has to stop!) “By all means!” His startled laughter is nearly delighted, as he recovers all too soon. “Jo—I’m surprised! Sixty-odd years of begging you to play with me, and finally, at the end of everything, you want to spar?” “I’m not playing!” Coldness builds in my chest. He dodges the lightning spatter of my blade with the skill of an acrobat, but his own saber is nowhere in sight, and he keeps his hands tucked away behind him. We cross the hall like this, front to back, and he parallels every step. “You truly want to hurt me, don’t you?--I fear you haven’t improved much since our last match.” Soft taunts bend around our useless ballet. “Your anger is a new bit, though. Intriguing!” He is too quick, and he knows it, and I know it, and tears of mingled anger and relief flood my vision. “Would you really kill me, then, little playmate?” He stills abruptly, his body relaxing, lifting his throat a bit, as if to invite a killing blow. “Dooku—” I force my strikes to stop, choking on emotion. The lightsaber shines steady ice between us. “Would you?!” I am panting by now, and I can hear the breathy despair echoing back at me from the dark corners of the library. His eyes are lit up in the bright white-blue of my saber, and I cannot tear my own from them. “I—” “As it pleases you, Jocasta.” And simply, quietly, he walks directly into the piercing length of the blade. No! A rush of sick, flooding horror sweeps through me, and for all my terror, I can only watch as his expression flickers vulnerably at the plunge. I hear his ragged gasp drag in at the friction between blade and bone, but he keeps moving. He slides forward along the blade until the light bursts out his back. My humming emitter presses tightly against his scorched abdomen, dragging us together. (And I cannot bring myself to drop the lightsaber, not for the sake of every single star in this merciless galaxy.) With only the space of the hilt between us, I can feel the exhale on my cheek. “I win.” The sentiment is shocking, even from him. He would impale himself for the last word? “Dooku…” I shut off the saber. The darkness swallows us up again as he collapses into my arms. I let him. It seems my terror is beading and dripping off as softness. He was my friend. He was still my friend. “You’re dying.” “No.” He repeats, and I feel the sheepish purr of his laughter against my chest. “I’m already dead.” Casually, he gestures with an empty sleeve and I notice for the first time that his hands are not, as I had previously assumed, curled up shyly inside his sleeves. (As he used to do when he was a boy.) They are gone entirely. I nearly drop him. He offers me another handless wrist, and straightens up. “What did you think? You were right. Your chance is up. I’m no longer yours for the saving. Perhaps I once was, but oh, now…” He is shaking his head. “You think me a child of my circumstances—I make my circumstances. And I am not your burden to carry. Not ever, but certainly not now.” There is long quiet, the sort that only comes deep out of the throat of night. “It was a war, Jo.” Finally my eyes drift downward to what I have been trying not to look at. I feel my lips part in a helpless expression of pity. “Your poor hands—stars, let me see.” “No!” He flinches away, and his robes rustle as he wraps his arms around his body, hiding the empty sleeves. (He looks like an anxious child, afraid to have some hurt touched.) Stale silence. “You’re a hallucination.” “Of course I am.” My eyes moisten. “A dream?” “So stop trying to fix me.” Somehow, this makes nothing better. Frustration bubbles over, but not anger this time. “What do you want from me, then? What do you want me to do?” “I want you to let me go.” --- I wake with the start of my heartbeat returning. All around is the pseudo-dark of a Coruscant night; a Coruscant weary from an impossible invasion, a Coruscant whose day has been saved. Time and reason are soft now, like wax, and I played their warmth between my fingers until they cool. My personal quarters lie still and neat around me. I am not in the Archive, and Dooku couldn’t have been here. He died today in the space over Coruscant, betrayed to the end. Hadn’t he? I throw myself out of bed, scattering my slippers on the floor. The door of my closet swishes open at a touch, and it only takes me a hasty, breathless moment of hunt to find them. I draw the little box out, and set it carefully on my bed. It takes a long while of looking before I dare to open it. Nestled inside of the box sit the tiny tea set, delicately crafted and meticulously dustless. They are colored a flawless white, each touched with a tiny rose design, like a thumbprint of blood on the snowy surface. I pause, running a finger over the fragile curves of the cups, the long spout of the kettle. I haven’t used the set in ten years. With a shuddering inhale, I lift the box of little cups and breeze to the balcony of my quarters. In their box, the cups tremble frailly at the motion, china clicking against china. The warm smog of the city night caresses my face. Lines of space traffic extend beaded light into the atmosphere, and out here, with Coruscant, he still seems very close. With the touch of night comes the bittersweet remembrance of the heat of Dooku’s irritating, perpetual cleverness—ever buzzing, annoying, yet so often true. I can nearly imagine him here again now: the confident way he used to lean out over my railing here; as if looking were everything and he could not fathom a fall. I can still nearly taste the sticky sweetness of the leftover friendship that I can not afford to savor. He was right; I must let him go. It is unspeakably hard to drop the first tea cup, but then they fall like brittle raindrops, one by one, smashing against the lower roof. It was a war, and we had long ago chosen our sides. -~- More on the way! -----signature----- I <3 Starrie. Strange Little Girls-> http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/24496675/p1/?0 Where are you going?
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MistiWhitesun Registered: Aug '04	Date Posted: 1/2/07 7:17pm Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	Wow. I liked Bant better, but that's probably because I'm inclined not to like Master Nu—and you made my feel poorly for her despite my inclination of dislike. Wonderful job! Thanks for the read, Charm! Could you PM me when you update, pretty please? -Misti -----signature----- Fade to Black (Vader finds Scout) http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/25847641/p1 "I should've known it would come to this."
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Charmisjess Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/4/07 7:50am Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	Thank you Misti! I will most definitely PM you when I update. I've noticed a lot of people don't like Jocasta very much. I guess that's what she gets for being so mean to Obi-Wan in AotC. She's a funny sort of character though--very passionate, I think, once you get down past the grouchy exterior. She's seen a lot. Thanks for reading! -----signature----- I <3 Starrie. Strange Little Girls-> http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/24496675/p1/?0 Where are you going?
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Star-Foozle Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 1/4/07 1:09pm Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	Woah. This was stunning, Jess. I read it three times to take it all in again. Stale silence. “You’re a hallucination.” “Of course I am.” My eyes moisten. “A dream?” “So stop trying to fix me.” Somehow, this makes nothing better. Frustration bubbles over, but not anger this time. “What do you want from me, then? What do you want me to do?” “I want you to let me go.” sniff I'm sad for both of them, here... Jocasta does want to fix him, but it's too late for them both. I would have never thought of writing Jo, but as usual, your story here cast a different light on her. Like you said, she's seen alot. Once again, your choice of words is lovely. And the teacups...I remember something about Dooku loving roses, so the symbolism behind them is even more perfect. I've had Dooku on the brain, lately, and as heartbreaking as this story was, I think it made my day. I could have sworn I commented on Underwater Thing, but apparently not...while I loved that one, this one is my favorite. Would you add me to that PM list, please? I'd be much obliged... Wonderful work as always. I look forward to the next! -----signature----- Can't save the world without caffeine. Proud Padawan of Charmisjess! My fics are in my profile. Midnight is where the day begins.
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earlybird-obi-wan Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 1/4/07 1:15pm Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	As an archivist myself I liked your story about Jocasta Nu -----signature----- writer and Star Wars fan FANART [link=http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/25793899]fanart[/link] stories in my bio
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Charmisjess Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/7/07 3:42pm Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	Star: Aww, thank you for such a beautiful review! You're very kind to me. I'm so glad you liked Jocasta--she's become very dear to me over the past few months. The character seems so calm and dignified, but she's so close to Dooku's failure, and must sense the history happening around her, that there's a kind of frantic energy under the character that is really fun to try to write out. Thanks for reviewing!! earlybird-obi-wan: Ah! That must be such a fascinating career! I'm glad you liked it; thanks so much for reading! PM List anakin_luver MistiWhitesun Star-Foozle Let me know if you'd like off or on. -----signature----- I <3 Starrie. Strange Little Girls-> http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/24496675/p1/?0 Where are you going?
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leia_naberrie Registered: Sep '02	Date Posted: 1/9/07 1:27am Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	Do I need to ask to be on the PM list? Doesn’t that go without saying? I do so much love this. It’s uncannily like a plot bunny I had for ‘Of Like Mind’ and I am delighted to see it written by someone else! Will be back with more gushing but for now ---- -----signature----- http://io9.com/5111680/avatar-casting-makes-fans-see-white Upset about the casting for the Last Airbender movies? Write to Paramount about it. http://aang-aint-white.livejournal.com/1007.html
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divapilot Registered: Nov '05	Date Posted: 1/9/07 3:03am Subject: RE: Strange Little Girls : Honey-----Jocasta Nu, Count Dooku
	So glad I popped into the Saga boards! What amazing writing. Your imagery and characterization is flawless. The Bant vignette is so lyrically tragic. She really seems ghost-like, trapped beheath the surface of life and death. And the Jocasta Nu vignette was mesmerizing. I loved the explanation for Kamino -- Dooku erased her data with her own access card. The Archives are her life's work: I see how betrayed she would have felt. I guess if you were to come up with "themes" of a sort for these, the first would be regret and the second would be betrayal. Even Jocasta's dreams betray her, and betray her feelings. These are marvelous. Fantastic! Looking forward to many more. (Aayla? please?) -----signature----- Never tell me the odds. UConn: Huskies forever! RIP Jasper Howard, #6 "Focus on what matters. It's about the GAME, not each other. Dumb humans."
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