[ kanan knew he wouldn't get a good night of sleep, but he didn't plan on getting no sleep.
each time he sets his head down and closes his eyes and is about to plummet into the darkness of his mind, the sensation of burning alive ripples through his skin again. he wakes up in a cold sweat, expecting to see -- anything, but no. still blind and still in his room. there are no lights for him to turn on and nothing for him to focus on but the illusion that has ingrained into his head. gods wood burning down, the destruction of sacred land, and the moments he thought he was about to die.
he loses track how many times he repeats this cycle, body and mind exhausted, without any comfort or respite from the horrors he faced.
he stands to wash his face, body heat spiked and adrenaline rushing, and splashes on cold water as frustration consumes his mood. it wasn't real, he knows, he knows, and still it haunts him. he wonders if melisandre is haunted the same, remembering how collected she was after they returned to reality. she said she felt it before and he doesn't know why that vague recollection sticks with him, or why he didn't question what she meant.
he tries to sleep again right after, only this time he doesn't even manage to fall to slumber.
the temple is quiet at this time of late night, the only sign of life being patrols conducted by the guard. he walks past one stationed in the dormitory wing, worn out from the way his eyes droop, and continues toward melisandre's room. once there, sensing her presence from within, he sets a hand on the door to penetrate behind it. to his surprise she's awake. maybe it did effect her after all, going over his head in the moment, far too caught up in his own pains.
he breathes in, mustering up his courage and shoving down his ego, and gives her door a gentle knock with the back of his knuckles. if she doesn't answer he won't pry, as he feels bad for even doing so in the first place. ]
⟪ there was, frankly, a lot for her to think about after the illusion – it had not kept her from asking him if he would wish to spend the night, though she had not pushed the matter when he had declined. he'd looked worn, and she suspected a good night of sleep, and sleep only, would do him good. still, she'd left him with the reminder that her offer was an open ended one, should he wish company later that night.
as ever, her night begins with her evening prayers – safety was now at the forefront, as ever, a request to be granted visions once more, and... yes, sleep, and calm, and protection for kanan as well. it is not rare for her to mention others in their prayers, she does it now and again, though rarely after so short a time. rarely for someone she has never seen in her flames. it does not worry her. if anything, the illusion they had shared cemented her trust. a man who, in the face of a death he feared, still sought her safety and protection – it remains an absurd thought. it remains one of the strangest blessings she had never asked for.
truly, it is that which keeps her awake, in spite of the ways the vision of the burning woods had soothed her: what should have been a pure blessing had been... affected by the fear she'd felt for him, by the dread she'd felt at knowing that, were this truly the end, she'd not had the chance to even bid him farewell the way she will one day have to do here. that he'd fought a monster of growing strength and asked her to run, regardless of what it meant for him. it is impossible to safe anyone from the call of god, but it's a rare thing for her to feel as though there is little that she would not give to be able to do so, for him.
by the time there is a knock at her door, melisandre has brushed out her hair, is dressed in the loosely tied red robe she favours on nights she dares think she may find an hour's rest. evidently, she'd soothed her soul with a bath, as she is prone to doing, soaking in hot water for as long as it remains so, and now faintly smelling of the oils she'd used to scent the water.
as ever, she opens the door herself , tense from shoulder to toe until she recognises him – and slips the small sachet of black powder back into the pocket of her robe. no threat, no danger. ⟫
Kanan.
⟪ her voice is warm and welcoming as she steps aside. ⟫
Come in.
⟪ her room is kept simple – aside from the fire pit, which the high priestess had blessed her with. her bed is neat and untouched, she keeps her chairs by the window, and some candles as well. she loathes the darkness, fears it, so there is always light.⟫
I am glad you came. ⟪ this seems, for one, a reassuring thing to say, as most sleep this time of night. it is the truth, too: her friend had been the source of much turmoil, and so it is calming to be in his presence. ⟫
[ he mutters his quiet appreciation and enters with the vigor of the undead. a simple dark brown tunic that falls past his hips and comfortable cotton pants of the same color are all he wears. normally he sleeps without a shirt but even in his stupor he has the sense to know that wouldn't be appropriate here. he's surprised she's awake right now but not so much as to comment on it. mostly he just hopes she isn't awake for the same reasons he is.
as soon as he enters his eyes shut close, and his face flinches away from the fire pit's bright light. his eyes sting with a pain both present in the now and illusory from the evening, and he sucks in a tense breath. don't be an asshole about it - she worships a god of fire, it makes sense. ]
Sorry to bother you. If you're in the middle of... something, I can go.
[ he means the fire pit, but his voice is earnest even in how skeptical he is of it. ]
⟪ she appreciates the earnestness in his voice, but she is difficult to shake on the matter. many in westeros were not so kind. the lady selyse had downright warned her of her husband, who had lost every last shred of faith when he'd watched the sea claim his father's ship.
so she notes the flinch, and... draws some conclusion. hasty they may be, but they had just been ravaged by illusionary fire.⟫
You must not apologise. You could not be a bother to me if you tried. ⟪ a truth. ⟫ I can snuff out the fire, if it pleases you. Only the candles must remain.
⟪ truth is, she rarely is without the fire in the pit, and if she did not trust him quite so wholly, she would pretend she had not seen his reaction. she opens the window, lets cool night air in, and there's a mechanism to the fire pit that allows her to kill the flames quickly enough. ⟫
Please, seat yourself.
⟪ there are chairs by the window, there's the bed, which she rarely uses, and there are cushions by the snuffed out fire pit, where she'd been sitting until he'd arrived. ⟫
[ a small guilt creeps in when she snuffs out the flames, even if he is more relieved that she would be willing to do it. he remembers now how she reacted in the rainstorm in kyst, firm in her decision to not brave any darkness. ]
Is it enough light for you?
[ he walks further in, sluggish as he senses out his surroundings, and takes a seat on one of the cushions by the pit. his legs tuck underneath him, easy and practiced, and his eyes open again half-lid to the dimly lit room. ]
If it's not, you can turn it back on.
[ it's her room, she can keep a fire pit lit up if she wants... he can keep his judgy comments to himself in peace. ]
⟪ she shuts the window, though, unwilling to risk the candles' flames by too much. ⟫
Asshai, the city I hail from, is cast in near permanent shadow. The sun is rarely seen, only around noon if at all on those scarce days. As long as there is some light, it is not so bad, for me.
⟪ before she seats herself, though, she steps on over to a cabinet, tilting her head. ⟫
Do men of your faith drink, Kanan? ⟪ tonight he looks, she reckons, as though he may benefit from a strong sip of liquor – or five. to kindle his spirits, and soothe his mind. ⟫
[ raised in near darkness would explain why she's so pale. he just assumed she didn't get out of her temple much, as her descriptions of it always made him think of a religious prison than a place of worship. the offer gets the tiniest smirk from him. ]
There's nothing saying alcohol's forbidden.
[ and if there is, then who cares? the jedi order needed to lighten up and live a little more.
(not the best phrasing in his head, he realizes, but eh? who'll stop him? ]
Give me a cup of the strongest bottle you have. I can handle it.
⟪ she picks out a bottle, evidently with some hesitance, not that she owns a wide variety to begin with. that and two cups, all gently balanced over as she seats herself on a cushion close-by. truth is, even the act of pouring him a drink – not having it poured – is so deviant from custom, politeness, and all shapes of station and class divergence – it's almost funny, but it is most certainly also relaxing. ⟫
There. ⟪ his is poured first, hers second. ⟫ I make no promises. 'tis not forbidden to drink to those of my faith, but like all poison, it holds no effect on me. The fire burns it all away.
⟪ a pause, she she picks up her cup. ⟫
Not anymore, of course, not since I came here. It was strange to be... affected again.
[ kanan cringes only the slightest at how she phrases it - the fires burning - and takes the cup once poured. he carefully turns it, the liquid stirring gently to blend, but doesn't feel inclined to drink right away. ]
So what you're saying is you can get drunk? [ he hums pleasantly. ] Good. What's the point otherwise?
[ no one drinks for any reason other than to dull their senses. he certainly never met anyone who did because they want to be healthy. ]
I used to drink a lot when I was younger. It was fun to do with company, and made sleeping a lot easier when you passed out on the floor along with the guys you worked with.
[ a beat, then- ] Well, that was a different time.
[ a much rougher one. nights like tonight weren't just once in a while - they were his nights, every single time. ]
⟪ to drink has never been a habit of hers – already a dangerous thing to be a woman and a slave, there must not be more weaknesses. of course, there is a width between 'not a habit' and 'none at all', and there had been days when she had appreciated the oblivion. ⟫
Rest does not seem to have found you tonight, either.
[ he frowns into his drink and brings it up to his lips for a tepid sip. it burns down his throat and lingers on his tongue, making him grunt gently as the heat shivers his skin. ]
The fire. [ he answers gruffly, lowering the cup to rest between his hands. ] I can't stop seeing it.
[ it feels silly to even bring it up when she was there with him, but he's still baffled in wondering how it didn't even rattle her. meanwhile he's here shaken up and it's dumb to keep thinking about something not real, but here he is anyway. ]
[ he takes another sip as she speaks, breathing in through his nose to let the air in and have it hit him harder on the next swallow. it's a good brew and he can feel it in his head. or maybe that's the throbbing headache a lack of sleep can cause.
her question gets a curious glance from him, pupils darting over unseen, and he sets the cup down on the floor this time so he can rest his hands on his lap. ]
Jedi have them. I've had them before -- not willingly.
[ jedi can will them, certainly, but not kanan. he does not trust them. ]
Do you think what we saw was a vision?
[ he hopes not. he doesn't want what he saw to ever become reality. ]
⟪ it is so unlike any of her visions that she says it with some confidence. the fact that he knows of visions, that they can be part of his faith, and yet he refuses them – it does not go unnoticed. she takes another sip, and she does reckon the stuff is strong. stronger than her tolerance, now that she is no longer wholly immune. she must thread lightly on it. ⟫
'tis why all my worry was in the moment. I do not believe we are meant to die by fire, and I do not believe the gods wood will truly burn, though the Lord of Light would have it another way, I am sure.
⟪ she doesn't sigh, but there is a sense of exhaustion about her that is somewhat rare. she is certain to sleep tonight. ⟫
Of course, the mind is a beast of its own. To be thrust into the heart of such an illusion is hard to shake.
[ well, he thinks he should explain himself- ] When I took the trial to be initiated as a true Jedi, I was tested on facing what I feared. I went into one of the abandoned temples of old, and was met with a vision. A manifestation of my fear.
What I saw, and confronted, was the destruction of the Jedi. The burning of our main temple, the death of our Order, and - and my own death.
[ indeed, back then it all felt real. he was just thirteen? in hindsight he wonders if it was less a test of his fear and instead a chilling vision of what was to come in less than a year. ]
Any illusion as real as what we faced would be bad, but the destruction of the Gods Wood... I don't know. It stays with me. I don't think I'll sleep well for a long time.
That is... a brutal challenge to face, for a young man.
⟪ with all else she knows of his life, it sounds more like a vision than a manifestation of his fears, but this seems to be a matter best left for a later moment. 'tis night, he looks exhausted and worn, and he needs rest. at least enough peace to find a few hours of it. ⟫
The thought is soothing to me. The gods woods of my world are places of a dark worship ⟪ dark, that is, to her – and nowhere near as dark as her own faith in practice, but she's blinded by it and would not see that. ⟫ and the one in this world has only put me at ease once, and not by any doing of its own.
⟪ she sets her cup down, hesitates, presses on. ⟫
You may stay as long as you wish, if company can put you at ease. I cannot think of many other ways I could thank you for the protection you offered me. The fire I worship, and death is inevitable, and more blessed in fire than in the night. Yet I would not be so calm had you not been with me.
You found it soothing huh. [ he huffs quietly, a little more awake now with the low burn of alcohol in his system. ] Well, glad one of us enjoyed it.
[ he doesn't share her views but he's too winded to make a stink or argument about it. he's tired overall and in quiet disbelief when she says he helped her stay calm. that's laughable but he's not in the mood for it. ]
You were the one who kept me calm. I would have... well, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there.
[ probably run. keep running, keep trying to escape, rather than accept what was happening in the moment. that he could accept it terrifies him as well. death comes for him soon and he thought he was at peace with the notion, but now he sees otherwise. another trial to face, so his master would surely say with a cat-like smile.
he runs a hand through the top of his hair, drifting it back to linger at his ponytail, trying to find the words. ]
I... brushed you off. Back at the play, when you asked how I was - I owe you an apology for that.
[ he was defensive and unnerved, but he thinks he could have reacted kinder to her concern. all she's ever been is kind to him and it's intimidating to deal with. he's so used to trading remarks and retorts that genuine concern is hard to accept, and even harder to think it could ever be directed his way. ]
⟪ which seems... ironic, considering that she just said she'd found it soothing. it had been a good thing, in her eyes, a good thing only touched by darkness when she realised that he would suffer a far too early, cruel fate alongside her. agony was part of her faith, it rang with her visions and her powers and so much else in her life – but she does not wish it upon others, least of all once she has come to care for them.
still, when he apologises, there's the moment's confusion about her, same as it so often is when he does that. ⟫
It was an intimate thing to ask, in the midst of so many others. I do not fault you for not wishing to speak of it then.
⟪ still, she reaches forward, see if he wishes to take her hand. ⟫
How are you now? ⟪ dark thoughts are like water – they need to flow out, or else they bring damp and rot to the mind. ⟫
Mhm. Well, I have alcohol in my hand so better than before.
[ the smallest breath puffs out from his nostrils and he smiles wry as he reaches for the hand she offers. he could add on a remark about how her being here is also a help, but he thinks that bit may be implied when he pushes his fingers in-between the gaps of hers and clasps their palms together. warm as ever, and it burns hotter against his cold skin.
the wind outside howls low and he finishes his drink. exhaustion is creeping into him again, but he fights it because he knows what will come if he tries to sleep. he decides to keep talking - an expert at running his mouth - to stave it off. ]
Are you doing ok? You... when we were in the woods, I saw you bleeding. Was that real?
[ he remembers how she stumbled in the woods when using her magic, and asking him if his connection to the force brought any pain with use. did setting that monster on fire take something out of her? ]
⟪ his hand is cold, but there's something nice about holding it regardless. she takes another sip of her own, and can feel some of her tension leaving her. ⟫
Help yourself. ⟪ she nods towards the bottle. ⟫ I am unlikely to ever finish the bottle on my own.
⟪ is she buying time with her offer? perhaps, a little. of course, she could simply lie – it's a lie she's told a thousand time, surely it would be hard to catch her in it? yet he'd been honest, had sought her out, and had... aimed to protect her, risking himself in the process. 'tis one thing to leave a guard to it. it's another thing to see a friend do so. does he not deserve some truth? ⟫
Power does not come without a cost. ⟪ she sets her cup down, touches his hand instead, tracing his knuckles. ⟫ I am well now, but large, quick bouts of magic cast do not feel... good.
⟪ as a general rule. ⟫
'tis how I knew what it is to feel as though I was burnt alive. ⟪ she blinks. ⟫ I never asked your forgiveness for catching you amid the smoke of the flames I cast against the creature. I rarely use these skills in battle - forgive me.
[ the offer for the bottle is very tempting, but he thinks how easy it would be to slip into old habits and drives away the lingering thoughts to go for it. he smiles at her apology. ]
We do a lot of apologizing around each other, don't we? [ he doesn't normally issue them out so much and that bugs him too. ] You don't need to be sorry for saving me.
[ he took in a lot of smoke but frankly that thing was winning on strength alone. if she didn't cast that combustion spell he could have been a goner. the same is true if she ran like he told her too, and that's one thing he won't apologize for. ]
If you're still in any pain, I do have these serums that I snagged from those firebird poachers I told you about. I was told they can heal surface wounds and relieve poisons. You can have one if you need it.
'tis a habit I will need to break when I return to Westeros.
⟪ she says it with half a laugh, the image of casting her apologies around atop the wall as she does with him being a bit of an unfortunate one. it is of such importance that she seems untouchable – and those who are truly untouchable need never apologise.
though, at his offer of the potion, she hesitates. ⟫
Your offer is very kind. And I would be glad to take it. I... am not in pain, now – these things do not last, or perhaps, they simply do not last for me. ⟪ hard to tell, really, when she works like a mortal woman would, and when not. ⟫ And I worry that you will give the potion away and find yourself lacking when you most need it. ⟪ she now holds his hand with both of hers. ⟫ You must not risk your life for mine, not even in such a way.
No can do. It's the Jedi way, Melisandre. We protect those who are in need of it.
[ the oppressed, the enslaved, the rebels - jedi are peacekeepers of the galaxy. or that's how it was always meant to be at least before they started taking military ranks. he is no more a soldier, but he will always be a jedi. ]
I won't force you to take it, but it's an open offer. I have a couple vials so giving you one isn't a big deal.
⟪ if anything, they may fight together again, and if she takes it, she won't endanger him more by being injured. and if he's injured? then there's something to offer him until she can find a way to heal him fully. ⟫
If you stay here tonight, do you reckon it would help you find rest?
[ his shoulders relax when she agrees, but her question gets a slight awkward pause from him. ]
It... wasn't my intention to stay, but. [ but. hm. ] I guess going back to my room won't really do anything for me.
[ even with the conversation to ease his mind, get his thoughts away from the burning woods, he thinks it might be better to just stay here since he already bothered her. although... ]
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after the play
each time he sets his head down and closes his eyes and is about to plummet into the darkness of his mind, the sensation of burning alive ripples through his skin again. he wakes up in a cold sweat, expecting to see -- anything, but no. still blind and still in his room. there are no lights for him to turn on and nothing for him to focus on but the illusion that has ingrained into his head. gods wood burning down, the destruction of sacred land, and the moments he thought he was about to die.
he loses track how many times he repeats this cycle, body and mind exhausted, without any comfort or respite from the horrors he faced.
he stands to wash his face, body heat spiked and adrenaline rushing, and splashes on cold water as frustration consumes his mood. it wasn't real, he knows, he knows, and still it haunts him. he wonders if melisandre is haunted the same, remembering how collected she was after they returned to reality. she said she felt it before and he doesn't know why that vague recollection sticks with him, or why he didn't question what she meant.
he tries to sleep again right after, only this time he doesn't even manage to fall to slumber.
the temple is quiet at this time of late night, the only sign of life being patrols conducted by the guard. he walks past one stationed in the dormitory wing, worn out from the way his eyes droop, and continues toward melisandre's room. once there, sensing her presence from within, he sets a hand on the door to penetrate behind it. to his surprise she's awake. maybe it did effect her after all, going over his head in the moment, far too caught up in his own pains.
he breathes in, mustering up his courage and shoving down his ego, and gives her door a gentle knock with the back of his knuckles. if she doesn't answer he won't pry, as he feels bad for even doing so in the first place. ]
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as ever, her night begins with her evening prayers – safety was now at the forefront, as ever, a request to be granted visions once more, and... yes, sleep, and calm, and protection for kanan as well. it is not rare for her to mention others in their prayers, she does it now and again, though rarely after so short a time. rarely for someone she has never seen in her flames. it does not worry her. if anything, the illusion they had shared cemented her trust. a man who, in the face of a death he feared, still sought her safety and protection – it remains an absurd thought. it remains one of the strangest blessings she had never asked for.
truly, it is that which keeps her awake, in spite of the ways the vision of the burning woods had soothed her: what should have been a pure blessing had been... affected by the fear she'd felt for him, by the dread she'd felt at knowing that, were this truly the end, she'd not had the chance to even bid him farewell the way she will one day have to do here. that he'd fought a monster of growing strength and asked her to run, regardless of what it meant for him. it is impossible to safe anyone from the call of god, but it's a rare thing for her to feel as though there is little that she would not give to be able to do so, for him.
by the time there is a knock at her door, melisandre has brushed out her hair, is dressed in the loosely tied red robe she favours on nights she dares think she may find an hour's rest. evidently, she'd soothed her soul with a bath, as she is prone to doing, soaking in hot water for as long as it remains so, and now faintly smelling of the oils she'd used to scent the water.
as ever, she opens the door herself , tense from shoulder to toe until she recognises him – and slips the small sachet of black powder back into the pocket of her robe. no threat, no danger. ⟫
Kanan.
⟪ her voice is warm and welcoming as she steps aside. ⟫
Come in.
⟪ her room is kept simple – aside from the fire pit, which the high priestess had blessed her with. her bed is neat and untouched, she keeps her chairs by the window, and some candles as well. she loathes the darkness, fears it, so there is always light.⟫
I am glad you came. ⟪ this seems, for one, a reassuring thing to say, as most sleep this time of night. it is the truth, too: her friend had been the source of much turmoil, and so it is calming to be in his presence. ⟫
no subject
[ he mutters his quiet appreciation and enters with the vigor of the undead. a simple dark brown tunic that falls past his hips and comfortable cotton pants of the same color are all he wears. normally he sleeps without a shirt but even in his stupor he has the sense to know that wouldn't be appropriate here. he's surprised she's awake right now but not so much as to comment on it. mostly he just hopes she isn't awake for the same reasons he is.
as soon as he enters his eyes shut close, and his face flinches away from the fire pit's bright light. his eyes sting with a pain both present in the now and illusory from the evening, and he sucks in a tense breath. don't be an asshole about it - she worships a god of fire, it makes sense. ]
Sorry to bother you. If you're in the middle of... something, I can go.
[ he means the fire pit, but his voice is earnest even in how skeptical he is of it. ]
no subject
⟪ she appreciates the earnestness in his voice, but she is difficult to shake on the matter. many in westeros were not so kind. the lady selyse had downright warned her of her husband, who had lost every last shred of faith when he'd watched the sea claim his father's ship.
so she notes the flinch, and... draws some conclusion. hasty they may be, but they had just been ravaged by illusionary fire.⟫
You must not apologise. You could not be a bother to me if you tried. ⟪ a truth. ⟫ I can snuff out the fire, if it pleases you. Only the candles must remain.
⟪ truth is, she rarely is without the fire in the pit, and if she did not trust him quite so wholly, she would pretend she had not seen his reaction. she opens the window, lets cool night air in, and there's a mechanism to the fire pit that allows her to kill the flames quickly enough. ⟫
Please, seat yourself.
⟪ there are chairs by the window, there's the bed, which she rarely uses, and there are cushions by the snuffed out fire pit, where she'd been sitting until he'd arrived. ⟫
no subject
Is it enough light for you?
[ he walks further in, sluggish as he senses out his surroundings, and takes a seat on one of the cushions by the pit. his legs tuck underneath him, easy and practiced, and his eyes open again half-lid to the dimly lit room. ]
If it's not, you can turn it back on.
[ it's her room, she can keep a fire pit lit up if she wants... he can keep his judgy comments to himself in peace. ]
no subject
⟪ she shuts the window, though, unwilling to risk the candles' flames by too much. ⟫
Asshai, the city I hail from, is cast in near permanent shadow. The sun is rarely seen, only around noon if at all on those scarce days. As long as there is some light, it is not so bad, for me.
⟪ before she seats herself, though, she steps on over to a cabinet, tilting her head. ⟫
Do men of your faith drink, Kanan? ⟪ tonight he looks, she reckons, as though he may benefit from a strong sip of liquor – or five. to kindle his spirits, and soothe his mind. ⟫
no subject
There's nothing saying alcohol's forbidden.
[ and if there is, then who cares? the jedi order needed to lighten up and live a little more.
(not the best phrasing in his head, he realizes, but eh? who'll stop him? ]
Give me a cup of the strongest bottle you have. I can handle it.
no subject
There. ⟪ his is poured first, hers second. ⟫ I make no promises. 'tis not forbidden to drink to those of my faith, but like all poison, it holds no effect on me. The fire burns it all away.
⟪ a pause, she she picks up her cup. ⟫
Not anymore, of course, not since I came here. It was strange to be... affected again.
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So what you're saying is you can get drunk? [ he hums pleasantly. ] Good. What's the point otherwise?
[ no one drinks for any reason other than to dull their senses. he certainly never met anyone who did because they want to be healthy. ]
I used to drink a lot when I was younger. It was fun to do with company, and made sleeping a lot easier when you passed out on the floor along with the guys you worked with.
[ a beat, then- ] Well, that was a different time.
[ a much rougher one. nights like tonight weren't just once in a while - they were his nights, every single time. ]
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Rest does not seem to have found you tonight, either.
⟪ no matter how different the times. ⟫
What keeps you awake?
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The fire. [ he answers gruffly, lowering the cup to rest between his hands. ] I can't stop seeing it.
[ it feels silly to even bring it up when she was there with him, but he's still baffled in wondering how it didn't even rattle her. meanwhile he's here shaken up and it's dumb to keep thinking about something not real, but here he is anyway. ]
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It was so vivid, I wholly believed it until I listened to you.
⟪ she looks into her cup, spies her own reflection, frowns. ⟫
Are there visions, in your world?
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her question gets a curious glance from him, pupils darting over unseen, and he sets the cup down on the floor this time so he can rest his hands on his lap. ]
Jedi have them. I've had them before -- not willingly.
[ jedi can will them, certainly, but not kanan. he does not trust them. ]
Do you think what we saw was a vision?
[ he hopes not. he doesn't want what he saw to ever become reality. ]
no subject
⟪ it is so unlike any of her visions that she says it with some confidence. the fact that he knows of visions, that they can be part of his faith, and yet he refuses them – it does not go unnoticed. she takes another sip, and she does reckon the stuff is strong. stronger than her tolerance, now that she is no longer wholly immune. she must thread lightly on it. ⟫
'tis why all my worry was in the moment. I do not believe we are meant to die by fire, and I do not believe the gods wood will truly burn, though the Lord of Light would have it another way, I am sure.
⟪ she doesn't sigh, but there is a sense of exhaustion about her that is somewhat rare. she is certain to sleep tonight. ⟫
Of course, the mind is a beast of its own. To be thrust into the heart of such an illusion is hard to shake.
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[ well, he thinks he should explain himself- ] When I took the trial to be initiated as a true Jedi, I was tested on facing what I feared. I went into one of the abandoned temples of old, and was met with a vision. A manifestation of my fear.
What I saw, and confronted, was the destruction of the Jedi. The burning of our main temple, the death of our Order, and - and my own death.
[ indeed, back then it all felt real. he was just thirteen? in hindsight he wonders if it was less a test of his fear and instead a chilling vision of what was to come in less than a year. ]
Any illusion as real as what we faced would be bad, but the destruction of the Gods Wood... I don't know. It stays with me. I don't think I'll sleep well for a long time.
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⟪ with all else she knows of his life, it sounds more like a vision than a manifestation of his fears, but this seems to be a matter best left for a later moment. 'tis night, he looks exhausted and worn, and he needs rest. at least enough peace to find a few hours of it. ⟫
The thought is soothing to me. The gods woods of my world are places of a dark worship ⟪ dark, that is, to her – and nowhere near as dark as her own faith in practice, but she's blinded by it and would not see that. ⟫ and the one in this world has only put me at ease once, and not by any doing of its own.
⟪ she sets her cup down, hesitates, presses on. ⟫
You may stay as long as you wish, if company can put you at ease. I cannot think of many other ways I could thank you for the protection you offered me. The fire I worship, and death is inevitable, and more blessed in fire than in the night. Yet I would not be so calm had you not been with me.
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[ he doesn't share her views but he's too winded to make a stink or argument about it. he's tired overall and in quiet disbelief when she says he helped her stay calm. that's laughable but he's not in the mood for it. ]
You were the one who kept me calm. I would have... well, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there.
[ probably run. keep running, keep trying to escape, rather than accept what was happening in the moment. that he could accept it terrifies him as well. death comes for him soon and he thought he was at peace with the notion, but now he sees otherwise. another trial to face, so his master would surely say with a cat-like smile.
he runs a hand through the top of his hair, drifting it back to linger at his ponytail, trying to find the words. ]
I... brushed you off. Back at the play, when you asked how I was - I owe you an apology for that.
[ he was defensive and unnerved, but he thinks he could have reacted kinder to her concern. all she's ever been is kind to him and it's intimidating to deal with. he's so used to trading remarks and retorts that genuine concern is hard to accept, and even harder to think it could ever be directed his way. ]
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⟪ which seems... ironic, considering that she just said she'd found it soothing. it had been a good thing, in her eyes, a good thing only touched by darkness when she realised that he would suffer a far too early, cruel fate alongside her. agony was part of her faith, it rang with her visions and her powers and so much else in her life – but she does not wish it upon others, least of all once she has come to care for them.
still, when he apologises, there's the moment's confusion about her, same as it so often is when he does that. ⟫
It was an intimate thing to ask, in the midst of so many others. I do not fault you for not wishing to speak of it then.
⟪ still, she reaches forward, see if he wishes to take her hand. ⟫
How are you now? ⟪ dark thoughts are like water – they need to flow out, or else they bring damp and rot to the mind. ⟫
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[ the smallest breath puffs out from his nostrils and he smiles wry as he reaches for the hand she offers. he could add on a remark about how her being here is also a help, but he thinks that bit may be implied when he pushes his fingers in-between the gaps of hers and clasps their palms together. warm as ever, and it burns hotter against his cold skin.
the wind outside howls low and he finishes his drink. exhaustion is creeping into him again, but he fights it because he knows what will come if he tries to sleep. he decides to keep talking - an expert at running his mouth - to stave it off. ]
Are you doing ok? You... when we were in the woods, I saw you bleeding. Was that real?
[ he remembers how she stumbled in the woods when using her magic, and asking him if his connection to the force brought any pain with use. did setting that monster on fire take something out of her? ]
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Help yourself. ⟪ she nods towards the bottle. ⟫ I am unlikely to ever finish the bottle on my own.
⟪ is she buying time with her offer? perhaps, a little. of course, she could simply lie – it's a lie she's told a thousand time, surely it would be hard to catch her in it? yet he'd been honest, had sought her out, and had... aimed to protect her, risking himself in the process. 'tis one thing to leave a guard to it. it's another thing to see a friend do so. does he not deserve some truth? ⟫
Power does not come without a cost. ⟪ she sets her cup down, touches his hand instead, tracing his knuckles. ⟫ I am well now, but large, quick bouts of magic cast do not feel... good.
⟪ as a general rule. ⟫
'tis how I knew what it is to feel as though I was burnt alive. ⟪ she blinks. ⟫ I never asked your forgiveness for catching you amid the smoke of the flames I cast against the creature. I rarely use these skills in battle - forgive me.
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We do a lot of apologizing around each other, don't we? [ he doesn't normally issue them out so much and that bugs him too. ] You don't need to be sorry for saving me.
[ he took in a lot of smoke but frankly that thing was winning on strength alone. if she didn't cast that combustion spell he could have been a goner. the same is true if she ran like he told her too, and that's one thing he won't apologize for. ]
If you're still in any pain, I do have these serums that I snagged from those firebird poachers I told you about. I was told they can heal surface wounds and relieve poisons. You can have one if you need it.
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⟪ she says it with half a laugh, the image of casting her apologies around atop the wall as she does with him being a bit of an unfortunate one. it is of such importance that she seems untouchable – and those who are truly untouchable need never apologise.
though, at his offer of the potion, she hesitates. ⟫
Your offer is very kind. And I would be glad to take it. I... am not in pain, now – these things do not last, or perhaps, they simply do not last for me. ⟪ hard to tell, really, when she works like a mortal woman would, and when not. ⟫ And I worry that you will give the potion away and find yourself lacking when you most need it. ⟪ she now holds his hand with both of hers. ⟫ You must not risk your life for mine, not even in such a way.
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[ the oppressed, the enslaved, the rebels - jedi are peacekeepers of the galaxy. or that's how it was always meant to be at least before they started taking military ranks. he is no more a soldier, but he will always be a jedi. ]
I won't force you to take it, but it's an open offer. I have a couple vials so giving you one isn't a big deal.
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⟪ if anything, they may fight together again, and if she takes it, she won't endanger him more by being injured. and if he's injured? then there's something to offer him until she can find a way to heal him fully. ⟫
If you stay here tonight, do you reckon it would help you find rest?
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It... wasn't my intention to stay, but. [ but. hm. ] I guess going back to my room won't really do anything for me.
[ even with the conversation to ease his mind, get his thoughts away from the burning woods, he thinks it might be better to just stay here since he already bothered her. although... ]
I'm not really in the mood. Just to be clear.
[ he says vague and unclearly. ]
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