#caestillo

i’m   worried   about   anakin.      just   outside      --      in   the   living   room  ,    he   thinks  ,    or   maybe   in   the   hallway   just   outside   his   door  ,    ahsoka’s   voice   is   scarcely   audible.      there   is   someone   else   with   her.      anakin   closes   his   eyes  ,    reaches   into   the   force      --      sunlight   on   water.      mags.      those   waters  ,    typically   so   still  ,    so   gentle  ,    are  ...      different   somehow.      waves   lapping   against   the   sand  ,    clouds   obscuring   the   sun.      the   water   is   cold.      she’s   hurting   too.      he   hasn’t   said   a   word   since   it   happened. 

anakin   cannot   find   it   in   himself   to   rise   and   go   to   her.      he   draws   the   covers   to   his   nose  ,    pulls   his   knees   to   his   chest  ,    and   closes   his   eyes.      what   is   there   to   say  ,    in   the   wake   of   such   a   momentous   loss?      he   has   never   been   a   jedi   without   obi - wan.      he   no   longer   knows   how   to   be   without   obi - wan  ,    parent   and   brother   and   mentor   and   friend   all   in   one  ,    his   one   constant   over   the   past   decade.

there   is   no   death  ,    there   is   the   force.      to   grieve   is   not   the   jedi   way.      to   anger   is   not   the   jedi   way.      the   jedi   can   stuff   it.      today  ,    he   grieves  ,    and   tomorrow      --      tomorrow   he   will   go   after   hardeen.

          it’s one thing to be cut off from the force when he was on quermia , but this ? kanan’s never in his life felt so exposed -- and that’s saying a lot. the cantina’s abuzz with drunken chatter , the ripe smell of alcohol like a permasteel grip around his throat. he tries to distract himself with the conversation around him , his crew. it’s odd to even think it. his crew. the words feel wrong , like he’s stolen them away from their rightful owner. and maybe he has. hera , ezra , sabine , zeb. even chopper. they’re why he’s here , afterall. he needs to get back to them. and to do that , he needs a crew. and to have a crew , means honoring their needs. like holing up in a shithole cantina for a night. and he supposes , as vulnerable as he feels , kanan figures as he finishes off his fizz-water , it’s far from the worst experience he’s ever had in a bar.

             you  draw,  determined  to  capture  what  visions  form  in  your  head  before  they  fade  from  your  memory.  you  do  not  mind  their  company  :  they  are  quiet,  and  they  do  not  try  to  engage  you  -  you  are  not  ready  for  that  as  yet.  your  eyes  flit  over  the  paper  as  you  sketch,  your  fingers  smudged  black  as  the  tension  in  your  body  eases  none.  they  are  a  stranger  to  you,  and  for  that  reason  alone,  you  are  unable  to  ignore  them  entirely.  you  are  keenly  aware  of  their  eyes,  watching  you  as  you  draw.

                  and  still,  you  do  not  greet  them.  you  do  not  question  their  company  nor  their  presence  on  the  land  you  have  called  home  for  centuries  long  lived.  time  passes  in  silence  :  it  is  not  stifling,  as  you  had  thought  it  would  be.  there  are  times  when  you  need  solace,  when  you  are  best  left  alone  -  for  the  safety  of  others,  and  for  your  own.  but  the  reservations  and  the  hostility  that  usually  rears  in  times  such  as  these  are  absent  now,  despite  the  unknown  sitting  just  out  of  reach.

things are changing .   more than she thought it would when her and alex plotted to take down division .   feels like things are changing faster than she can keep up with sometimes ,   but she tries .   division was     .  .  .     not completely taken down .   they are going after the dirty thirty ,   cleaning up after percy and his mess before they can be totally free .   and now there is tantalus .   new on her radar ,   new on fletcher’s aswell .   and they need to know more ,   need to know what they are up against .   dark gaze flicker around the room   &   she remembers it from when she was in one of these herself .   put on death row ,   growling and clawing at anything with a heartbeat .   that has changed too .   now she stands infront of the other woman ,   the one greeting her when she wakes up .   walks closer   :   and when she sits down on the bed ,   by her feet ,   there’s a small smile upon lips .     

  nightmares were a thing that he was no stranger to. even if he couldn’t see himself sleeping through them, he knew the signs if someone had one. he badly wished that this was the first time he’d encountered her after the fact, then again she might say the same about him. he came prepared, a glass of water that he set next to her. keeping his voice as calming as he could, knowing that he normally spoke fast and that wasn’t always the most comforting.