#ro!

Ro does not usually eavesdrop.

Okay, that's a complete and utter lie. Ro loves to eavesdrop. Eavesdropping is her life. She lives for it.

All of the bodyguards gossip whenever they get the chance. Sandor knows all of the tea and Ro is always trying to one up him. They have intimate knowledge of everything that goes on and it's just great.

But, anyways, it was a warm Thursday night, and Ro had just gotten back from her weekly frolic through the woods around Candleshade. Or maybe it was Bi-Weekly. Anyways, it involved killing a random rabbit, that night, for the purpose of making her knives stay sharp and her aim stay perfect.

You can't kill rabbits(or anything) around wussy, namby-pamby elves. They'd have a breakdown or cry or something.

But, at any rate, Ro was trekking back up the endless stairs of Candleshade to make sure Keefe was still alive. You could never be sure with that kid. Once she found him passed out because he hadn't eaten any food in a while and stood up too fast. The idiot was a menace, and she'd die for him.

So, she walked past his room, and pulled to a stop.

He was talking to someone.

She stayed quiet, stayed still, becoming near stone in her stillness.

"... I just don't understand why..."

She held her breath so she could hear him better.

"--She'd never do that to me. She wouldn't. I don't understand why she--"

Ro had to breath, dash it all.

"--of all the people, she didn't even like me. Like, come on. If someone's going to be her legacy, why would it be me?"

He got a little louder, so Ro could breathe and hear him at the same time.

"It's so stupid. It doesn't make any sense. Nothing lines up, and I feel like pieces of my brain have been ripped out, and all that's left is the swiss cheese part, and It's missing all of the holes. And I want what's in those holes back. I shouldn't, but I do."

Ro wondered who he was talking to.

Keefe screamed, and it was muffled, much like he'd shoved his face into a pillow, and yelled as loud as he could.

Ro waited.

"I just hate this. So much. I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish I wasn't sitting here, talking to a stuffed animal, trying to make sense of this stupid, useless world!"

Ro felt the words hit her like knives. This kid. He'd be the death of her, alright.

"Stars," Keefe said, softly. "Am I just going insane? This should be easier to deal with, right? I mean, Foster went through the same things. Like admittedly, it wasn't her abusive mom who never hugged her ripping out memories about how she was going to be the perfect weapon against a society from her brain, but like. It's close enough."

No it's not, Ro wanted to tell him. These are completely different things, you absolute idiot.

Keefe made a small noise, that sounded like a sniffle. "I mean," he said, "I'm not trying to be such a mess," his voice was chipped and cracked and broken. "I'm not trying to be this awful. I'm really not, Mrs. Stinkbottom. I promise."

Ro wished she could find the fact that this was a one-sided conversation with a stuffed animal funny. But it was just... heartbreaking.

"I'm trying to keep it together, I'm trying to put pieces where they belong, and I just--" He exhaled, sharply. "I'm fine. I'm fine. It's all fine."

This was like, the exact opposite of fine.

"It's not a big deal. It's just me proving my mom right if I--" He took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay, yep. Not going to think about it. Not. Going. To Go. There."

Ro stayed as silent as she could. Where else was this kid hurting, that he didn't want to go in a discussion of his trauma with a stuffed animal? Who else had hurt this kid?!

"I mean," he said, shakily. "It's not like it means anything. What does she know? She doesn't know that I'm a weapon. She didn't create me, she doesn't get to decide what I do or who I hurt. Just because she wants me to ruin everything, kill everyone, destroy everything doesn't mean I have to!"

Rage began blistering in her mind. She knew the kid didn't talk about what people had told him about himself. He didn't even talk about the burn scar on his neck. No one talked about it. This kid kept all of his problems in the back of his brain, in some darkness deep inside of him that he usually couldn't find his way to. That's how he got through life, how he kept on smiling, and underneath it all.

He was just a kid. His life was a nightmare.

"Fintan doesn't know anything about me. He can't say I'm evil as he is if he doesn't know me--"

Another muffled scream.

"I hate this. I know they're not right."

Ro wanted to punch Neverseen officials in the face. With a sword. A nice, big, sharp, dangerous sword. Right through their eyeballs.

"But why why why can't I believe that?"

Ro wanted to burst into the room and drag the kid to his feet and pull him into a hug that would squeeze all his bones and make his joints crack. She didn't. She couldn't. Ro was eavesdropping.

So, after a long moment of silence, she left.

She waited a good thirty minutes, and knocked on the door a bit later.

He greeted her with a smile and a joke about her dating Bo.

Gladly so! I've posted a part of this previously here

Mace had forgotten what it was like to have a Padawan, to have someone to rely on you so, someone so innocent and inquisitive. Anakin is a conundrum to him. He understands the boy, sometimes. Strange gifts from the Force has been a part of his life ever since he could remember. But with Anakin? With Anakin things are… different.

They had taken tea with Yoda yesterday (They had spoken of the Force, and Anakin with all his innocence spoke of the way the Force converses with him.)

“Why is your lightsaber different than the others?” The boy is bundled up in his robes, a cup of warm tea in his hands.

“Different how?” Mace looks up from his reading. He has at least learnt that Anakin’s questions don’t usually mean… what they are supposed to mean.

“Well… different.” Anakin speaks as if his words are the easiest to understand for everyone.

“It’s like… the other Jedi’s crystal sounds like how the moons in Tatooine would cry at night.” Nonchalantly, Anakin shrugs. Mace does not have the heart to tell him that— well he doesn’t know what the moon sounds like, and really sometimes he wonders what else his Padawan knows.

“And how does mine sound, Padawan of mine.”

“I don’t know. It sounds like you I guess.” A loud slurping sound fills the silence of the room.

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like fire! The… waterfalls we saw in Naboo!”

“And is that a good thing?”

“Who knows? I don’t think the Force tells me what’s good or bad anyways. But it’s cool!” And the gleaming smile is paralleled only by the light in Anakin’s eyes. Mace knows that he would not be able to explain any further than this.

I'm touched you like it that much <3