#memory moths

***UPDATE: uuuugh I screwed up some details. Both the Tumblr and the FFN versions have been revised though.***

Ha so uh, don’t spend your entire afternoon reading depressing Obitine stuff, because then stuff like this may happen. I’m going to crosspost it to FanFiction.Net.

Basically I wanted to revisit the memory moths from the comic Star Wars Omnibus: the Enemy on All Sides collection. After the Battle of Jabiim, Anakin is given a few memory moths at Obi-Wan’s funeral after Obi-Wan’s supposed death and it is explained that they will carry the name of whomever you chose on their wings forever. So uh…I did this.

Apologies for any non-canonical issues. <-- most of these should be fixed now

—

Names Without Faces

—

The transparisteel cylinder is cold against his trembling fingers as he holds it, gingerly, as if it were much more fragile than he knows it to be. Inside, the luminous wings of the memory moth brush against the smooth walls of its crystalline prison.

Before him, the undulating column comprised entirely of constantly moving memory moths shimmers gently in the night. Now more a war memorial than a tribute to memories, the names of every Jedi slain since the beginning of the Republic murmurs softly with the beat of the insects’ wings.

Obi-Wan knows what he is about to do is unorthodox; desecrating, even. But he doesn’t care.

Uncapping the canister, he allows the shining creature to flutter out onto his palm, waiting patiently for the words it will carry away into the glimmering vortex. Obi-Wan shudders unconsciously, remembering how many other Jedi’s names he has committed to memories on this same spot. He opens his mouth -

And he finds himself unable to speak. He cannot tear the name from where it has become lodged so tight in his throat, cutting off his air and voice, squeezing his chest, twisting his insides into some tortured shape. The name with which he began the sentence he wanted to say, needed to say…the sentence he never finished.

The Jedi sinks to his knees on the turf, a choked sob slipping from his aching chest. How many times will he have to go through this, lose another friend, and another, and another? Until this war is over?

Or until he has lost everyone he cares for?

A few moths break off from the swarm and hover around him, as if in recognition. Obi-Wan watches them through the tears that run down his face, blurring them into quavering stars, dwarfed by their mother supernova behind.

A single pinprick drifts closer, almost tentative. When he makes no move in response, it flits directly to his ear and circles there, whispering a single name over and over again;

Siri Tachi…..Siri Tachi…..Siri Tachi….

A fresh wave of pain breaks across his heart as he recalls the headstrong, compassionate blonde Jedi. Here is the very whisper moth he had nearly crushed as he cupped it in his palm, choking out her name while the throes of denial clawed at his spirit.

….Siri Tachi….

A new name reaches his ears, and he turns to his right to find a second moth.

Tahl Uvain, it says, between the hushed wingbeats. Tahl Uvain.

And back rushes the failure on New Apsolon, awash with the spectral light of the column they had erected in her honor. They’d been too slow, too slow. He can still feel the utter void the Force had become when she breathed her last, hear the strangled cry of anguish from Qui-Gon.

The tears drip freely now, watering the grass beneath his clenched fist.

Then the third insect settles on his shoulder and sighs one more name, and he breaks.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan Kenobi presses his forehead to his knees and rocks in place, sobbing. Every death, every loss, surges up from the abyss in his chest where he has trapped them all, a whirling, shrieking mass of pain and sorrow. His grief eats him alive, gnawing steadily from his heart to his bones, ripping outwards from his skin, slipping from his eyes in salty droplets, pounding incessantly in his temples.

Will he lose everyone before this is over?

Slowly, his gut wrenching sobs subside to gasps, then an occasional hiccup, then…stillness. Stillness in the gentle rustling of thousands of memory moths uttering thousands of names. Names with no faces.

He looks tearfully down at the silent glowing speck perched on his forearm, waiting for him to harness it with a memory to bear, then back up at the three other moths which circle his head.

Siri Tachi, the first whispers, and he steels himself, rising to his feet.

Siri Tachi.

Be strong. Don’t give up.

Tahl Uvain, echoes the second, and he tilts back his head, tears still brimming.

Tahl Uvain…

Do not forget to grieve.

And last comes the murmur of the third. Qui-Gon Jinn.

Qui-Gon Jinn….

You have come so far. Finish the race.

Obi-Wan unclenches his jaw and stares down at the moth in his hand, mute and minute.

More of the minuscule creatures are swirling around him now, muttering names - Sarrissa Jeng, Kobey Maru, Fay - some familiar, some not.

Still, her name chokes his throat.

Then a last name, uttered quieter than a breathe of wind through the high grasses of Naboo.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Satine Kryze,” he gasps weakly, and the moth on his palm spirals upward, joining with its fellow, the one to speak Obi-Wan’s own name, and they spiral higher and higher, like sparks dancing above a fire.

Surrounded by names of those long lost and forgotten, Obi-Wan watches until they vanish into the gloom, his grief still running down his cheeks.

–*–

I have no shame I know. I really wanted to write something that would help me emotion again. I couldn't help but imagine Obi-Wan committing Satine's memory to the moths, even though she wasn't a Jedi. She was as brave and selfless as any Jedi, though.