I should be surprised if there was a world without evil in it.
[ she breathes, considering a moment. ] I find I know little of your home, still. I do not mean to push, for one should be able to speak only of what they are comfortable with... and yet, I find myself wondering. [ she reaches out, slowly, her fingertips brushing the side of his face, before she lets her hand drop. ]
I can see the burden like a cloak around you, one you will not let go of. I wish I could carry it for you, even for a moment.
[ It shouldn't affect him this deeply, her touch — almost featherlight and oh-so-gentle — roiling all manner of emotion and conflict in his chest, and filling it with the sort of longing he had since forgotten more than a decade past. He finds himself shifting the barest fraction towards her, as though caught up in her orbit, and notices the stark absence when she lets her hand drop.
He reminds himself that the Jedi are forbidden to indulgences like this. And then he reminds himself, again and not for the last time even in this conversation alone, that the Jedi have long since stopped existing, so does it really matter? ]
I know, and I'll admit that fault lies with me. I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice where being a suitable conversational partner is concerned. [ He admits this, lightly. ] But I can tell you whatever you'd like to know, though I can't guarantee it will be any more exciting than what we've experienced here.
[ Much of his life has been embroiled in politics of nearly every kind. But it's easier, somehow, to talk about these things than it is to share all of his shame and regret and grief, the stuff he had quietly kept very close to the chest despite his masters' teachings. ]
And I certainly wouldn't wish to bear this burden on anyone else either, least of all you.
I disagree. [ her tone matches his in lightness — and yet, she means it fully. he is not a poor conversational partner... merely, she suspects he is so used to hiding parts of himself it is like second nature. but then, one often shies away from that which is painful... and he may not have spoken of it, but anyone who speaks so little of his past must find it painful beyond belief. ]
It is not a burden — not when it is taken willingly. [ a frown mars her features for a moment. ] You are not alone, Ben. And I am not weak. [ she can support him — she wants to support him. ]
If I were to ask you what it is you lost, would you tell me?
[ He'll fill in the space to avoid feeling awkward about it, but his efforts seem to be in vain when Luthien continues. ]
No, you are not weak. [ He agrees, knowing that his hesitation is more about his own shortcomings than anything that might even be remotely considered as such for her.
But he'd told her he would tell her whatever it is she wished to know, right?
He lets out a breath, and offers the barest shrug of a shoulder which does nothing to lighten the weight of his response. ]
One of those young men? Though I believe I would know if it was Cal. [ him, she has spoken to often enough... and he doesn't seem like one that has been lost. ] Anakin, then?
[ there is something in anakin that, from when she has seen him, has made her think of what she has heard of fëanor — there is a fiery spirit to him, one that any elven kind might see. ] What happened?
Cal, he knows and understands as someone so much like the Jedi General he used to be just before Order 66 ripped everything away from them, stripping them of their responsibilities, their honour, their identity. Trusting the Force no matter what might be thrown their way was something they both had in common. And when Ben had just about given up on the Force, accepting it back into his life only recently for no other reason than it was required to save a little girl, Cal reminded him of what it meant to really believe in it again.
Anakin he knows like an extension of his own heart. Having raised the young boy into the man now currently in the station, when he himself had only been a boy himself, it makes all of this so much harder. They have been through so much together.
Perhaps too much. ]
He is like a ghost to me. I — [ He shakes his head, offering Luthien a rueful smile. ] It's been ten years since I lost Anakin to the Dark Side, and he doesn't know what's to come in his future.
[ He can't know. It's a truth that Obi-Wan has accepted he can never reveal because it would snuff out the very last glow of light in that boy's heart, feeding his inner demons like a feast. Obi-Wan couldn't hurt him again. ]
Sometimes I'll see that young man on the station, and it fills me with hope that he can be kept on the path of the light. But I'm afraid to admit that every time I see him, it feels a little like a rather poignant reminder of my own failings. Here is the man before the great Jedi teachings suffocated him, pushed him too far, pushed him too hard.
[ Ben's voice feels a little thick now before it finally breaks with the quiet. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ she breathes, considering a moment. ] I find I know little of your home, still. I do not mean to push, for one should be able to speak only of what they are comfortable with... and yet, I find myself wondering. [ she reaches out, slowly, her fingertips brushing the side of his face, before she lets her hand drop. ]
I can see the burden like a cloak around you, one you will not let go of. I wish I could carry it for you, even for a moment.
no subject
He reminds himself that the Jedi are forbidden to indulgences like this. And then he reminds himself, again and not for the last time even in this conversation alone, that the Jedi have long since stopped existing, so does it really matter? ]
I know, and I'll admit that fault lies with me. I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice where being a suitable conversational partner is concerned. [ He admits this, lightly. ] But I can tell you whatever you'd like to know, though I can't guarantee it will be any more exciting than what we've experienced here.
[ Much of his life has been embroiled in politics of nearly every kind. But it's easier, somehow, to talk about these things than it is to share all of his shame and regret and grief, the stuff he had quietly kept very close to the chest despite his masters' teachings. ]
And I certainly wouldn't wish to bear this burden on anyone else either, least of all you.
no subject
It is not a burden — not when it is taken willingly. [ a frown mars her features for a moment. ] You are not alone, Ben. And I am not weak. [ she can support him — she wants to support him. ]
If I were to ask you what it is you lost, would you tell me?
no subject
[ He'll fill in the space to avoid feeling awkward about it, but his efforts seem to be in vain when Luthien continues. ]
No, you are not weak. [ He agrees, knowing that his hesitation is more about his own shortcomings than anything that might even be remotely considered as such for her.
But he'd told her he would tell her whatever it is she wished to know, right?
He lets out a breath, and offers the barest shrug of a shoulder which does nothing to lighten the weight of his response. ]
You've met him.
no subject
[ there is something in anakin that, from when she has seen him, has made her think of what she has heard of fëanor — there is a fiery spirit to him, one that any elven kind might see. ] What happened?
no subject
Cal, he knows and understands as someone so much like the Jedi General he used to be just before Order 66 ripped everything away from them, stripping them of their responsibilities, their honour, their identity. Trusting the Force no matter what might be thrown their way was something they both had in common. And when Ben had just about given up on the Force, accepting it back into his life only recently for no other reason than it was required to save a little girl, Cal reminded him of what it meant to really believe in it again.
Anakin he knows like an extension of his own heart. Having raised the young boy into the man now currently in the station, when he himself had only been a boy himself, it makes all of this so much harder. They have been through so much together.
Perhaps too much. ]
He is like a ghost to me. I — [ He shakes his head, offering Luthien a rueful smile. ] It's been ten years since I lost Anakin to the Dark Side, and he doesn't know what's to come in his future.
[ He can't know. It's a truth that Obi-Wan has accepted he can never reveal because it would snuff out the very last glow of light in that boy's heart, feeding his inner demons like a feast. Obi-Wan couldn't hurt him again. ]
Sometimes I'll see that young man on the station, and it fills me with hope that he can be kept on the path of the light. But I'm afraid to admit that every time I see him, it feels a little like a rather poignant reminder of my own failings. Here is the man before the great Jedi teachings suffocated him, pushed him too far, pushed him too hard.
[ Ben's voice feels a little thick now before it finally breaks with the quiet. ]
He was our Chosen One. And I lost him.