#ahsoka.

she stands nearby, silent, motionless, arms crossed across her chest. rain drips down her montrals, her face, her clothes — her cloak is thick, but not enough to protect ahsoka fully from the elements as it pours. water droplets stick to her eyelashes, to the point of her nose, but the togruta remains still. reactionless. a statue of training and slow breathing, even after kenneth's prompting. keeping an eye on me? once, the gentle tug may have summoned a smile from her lips. once, she may have rolled her eyes, scoffed, shrugged her shoulders. not now. not anymore.

the sky brightens with lightning, the air, caustic with nearby thunder that seems to shake the dirt and grass beneath their feet. at long last, movement — ahsoka tugs the edge of her hood down to her forehead, a small attempt at shielding her gaze from the downpour. "i'm admiring your work with that." a vague chin-jut towards ken and his blade, towards his practice. his stance on a boulder outcropped from the ground gives him balance, gives him height amid the storm. his stance is just. his skills, natural, obvious, but borrowed with anger and vengeance at the forefront. that, alone, is why ahsoka has refused to practice with him — the violence she sees within ken's brutal slashes is too familiar to her. the feeling cuts too deep.

"and i value your judgement," ahsoka replies smoothly, arms crossed over her chest as her cloaks hug and bury her. she hides beneath this fabric, the tips of her montrals, concealed, as she stands beside her friend now — a shadow of an entity alongside raven's wise presence. "if you believe they'll benefit our cause, i trust you."

trust. what a treacherous word. it's been far too long since ahsoka allowed herself the intimacy of a trusting relationship; raven is fortunate to earn a place within her mind, a safe harbor, a shelter in the storm. the force is strong in both women, which offers ahsoka some vague sense of calm. both cloaked figures loom above the practice grounds, studying a narrow landscape of rebellious trainees and other assets to their cause (many are raven's recruits, people who flocked to her, hopeful that they may defeat the empire and find peace in its place). that's why ahsoka trusts her. that's partially why she's here.

smoke drifts against the dirt-clogged ridges and hills of the landscape beyond, a cumulutive backwash of debris, char, and burning plants and grass. the togruta teenager stands behind the fumes, her blue eyes gaping wide as she takes in the view of the planet they were meant to save. abruptly, she chokes against the billow, hastily turns her head, and coughs into her arm to smother the sound, and the cough turns to pain, to grief, to distress. it suddenly feels like too much to take in, too much to process in such a short amount of time — how is ahsoka meant to swallow down the brutality of the battle they just missed? how can she rationalize their delay in arrival against the destruction before her? if they'd only reached the planet sooner. maybe they could have stopped the droid army from rumbling through this valley. perhaps their presence would have dissuaded such an attack from going through. if only the blockade was easier to destroy. if only she'd sensed the change in the force. if only, if only...

maybe obi-wan sees how she stares. he's been standing beside her for a few good minutes now, arms crossed across his armor-plated chest. maybe he finds familiarity in her pain, her distress at the sight before them. the valley still fills with embers and smog, homes reduced to ash in the wake of the droid army's arrival; has he seen this sight before? obi-wan was a padawan once, too — he knows what this vulnerability feels like, the apparent uselessness of a single jedi against the evils of the galaxy. does he sympathize with her? does he pity her for their failure to reach this place in time?