Saga Old Acquaintance Be Forgot--An Obi-Wan Vignette

Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

By LuvEwan

Summary: Obi-Wan celebrates.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

A bit belated, but I was gone this weekend.

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The black gloss spilled from ethereal hands, ink escaping the crystalline jar and staining the soft mandarin slowly, soaking and spreading, until it was only dark, save the persistent jewels that rose from the pall, scattered in a random harmony of pulsing silver.

And Obi-Wan stood from his quiet little vantage point, watching, feeling stray flecks of the ebony pool in his eyes, rimmed by still settings of sapphire.

He turned away and his hand slipped from the lusterless gray curtain that now covered the scene.

For a moment, he thought he heard the tight pop of exploding color, the shimmering kaleidoscope that rose in the sky, but he quickly corrected himself.

It was too soon for such festivities to begin.

And besides--how could he account for the closeness of that sound, as though it were outside the door, or within his chest, when that was impossible? He was not prone to wild bouts of imagination. In fact, he would not allow them.

So he bit down on the swell of his bottom lip, speared the outrageous notion, and walked into the kitchen.

The chronometer displayed the time, hour and minute separated by a blinking colon that seemed to keep in time with the measured beat of his heart.

Obi-Wan sighed, running fingers quickly through his hair, auburn strands falling in his eyes.

"I think it's way past due for a trim, don't you think?" A voice berated lightly, laced with warm mirth, speaking somewhere behind him.

Obi-Wan removed a green-tinted glass bottle from the cooling unit, face expressionless, intent on maintaining the silence.

But then there was a slightly quickened rhythm in his ribcage, and he glanced at the clock.

Suddenly, their unison was breached. He placed a palm fleetingly to his chest, then moved to find a clean goblet.

"Today, of all days, you ignore me?"

And the base of the goblet was slammed on the stone countertop. Obi-Wan was faintly surprised it had not shattered. You know why I am. He could not speak the words. He refused.

With a graceful calm, he began to pour the deep violet drink.

"I would hope you'd understand that this will only hurt yourself."

Obi-Wan did not bother with finishing filling the chalice; he shoved the rim to his mouth and drank. When he brought it away again, his lips glistened in their compression, the cleft beneath them given definition.

"Brooding?" The question was a melding of melancholy and humor, sadness and ruefulness. "I suppose you've learned from the best."

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the blossoming warmth inside him, the traitorous reaction of his body, and reached for the slim neck of the bottle.

But the conflict was evident. His forehead creased, his eyes focused too keenly on his simple task?And then they closed. His form, clad merely in loose sleep pants, trembled.

A hand ghosted across his shoulder.

His eyes opened to the darkness of the room. "I did learn from the best." He said softly, and smiled.

"But do you choose to forget what you've been taught?"

Obi-Wan looked down at his fingers. The warmth became heat, burning in his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Master." A weak whisper.

And the traces of aged duty were so familiar?comforting.

He flinched as he stared out at the shaded living area from the kitchen. "But it can't be the same. How can I when---it's not the same?"

The other man chuckled. "What tradition can be the same on its every occasion? When was it ever the same?"

Obi-Wan took the goblet absently in his hand and drifted to the armchair.

Shadow engulfed the humble space within the walls, and against the dark canvas he could see wraiths, moving under the illusion that the nightfall was one of years before, and the past was not the past at all--but the present moment.

He rested his chin on the goblet's lip as they crowded the room, spirits oblivious to their a

 

As always your descriptions are absolutely beautiful. Wonderful vignette LE.

 

That was so sad. Poor Obi-Wan remembering and blaming himself for so much. I loved the ending when the tear put out the candle flame. Lovely!

 

Heartwrenchingly sad but beautiful at the same time. Only you could manage that.

 

Sheila Thank you. As always, you're incredibly kind.

diane Aw thanks.

obi_ew Well I don't know about that.

 

Umm...up.

 

The black gloss spilled from ethereal hands, ink escaping the crystalline jar and staining the soft mandarin slowly, soaking and spreading, until it was only dark, save the persistent jewels that rose from the pall, scattered in a random harmony of pulsing silver.

Beautiful imagery.

This was so sad. He carries such pain, such sorrow.

 

so sad

 

Oy. Sad just about sums it up. Great work, LE.

Shaindl

 

Gina Thank you.

PK

Shaindl Thankee kindly. **tips hat**

 

Thankee? Have you been reading King's Dark Tower series?

 

Nope. That's just my natural dialect.

 

I could say something about your natural dialect...


...but I won't. See how nice I am?

 

I'm so thankful for your kind spirit.


Hee hee.