thisavrou_log | [closed] Negotiations

[closed] Negotiations

Who: Satine Kryze and Obi-Wan Kenobi
When: At some point during the later part of the month
Where: Garden
What: Satine decides to confront Obi-Wan about the fact that he's blatantly avoiding her.
Warnings: Will add if anything comes up

Satine is no stranger to being pulled away from personal matters by duty, and she can certainly understand it if Obi-Wan needs some time and space to digest the fact that she is... well, alive, and on this ship. What would have been very helpful, however, is if he could have told her that instead of simply avoiding her completely after their initial and very emotional reunion. There is just something about a man clinging to you as if you are the center of his world to then proceed to ignore you completely that throws a person just the tiniest bit off kilter.

Not that this is in any way a new thing for them. Their relationship has always been a to and fro of passions running high only to be tempered by duty, the unspoken depth of that passion forever ensuring that they could never quite break away from this dance.

But it isn't unspoken anymore, at least not on her part, and perhaps that too is a reason why her company is no longer desirable to him. If that is the case, she would very much like to know. It was her own choice to expose her heart to him and leave it open to be wounded, and she takes full responsibility for that. He owes her nothing, and she does not intend to lay any claims. She merely wishes to know what he is thinking, because this is becoming a distraction, and she too has duties to attend to.

When she spots him in the garden by chance, she decides to take action, swiftly catching up to him to pull him behind some large bushes that ought to give them about as much privacy as can be had on board the Moira for most members of the crew.

Large flowers release a pleasant fragrance around them, and the scene could have been quite pleasant under different circumstances.

She looks more like he is used to seeing her now than she did before, dressed in the Mandalorian clothes sent to her through the ingress, her hair held back from her face by a diadem with a blue jewel shining on her brow. Her expression is proud and composed, and her voice is calm, though he knows her well enough that he probably wouldn't need the Force to detect the annoyance she is trying to keep hidden.

"A word, general Kenobi?"

If he wants to do formal and distant, she can do formal and distant. She excels at it, in fact.

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In a moment's notice and unexpectedly, Obi-Wan finds himself nestled in a leafy corner with Satine Kryze. Try as he might, he can't help but be reminded of a time long past when this wouldn't have been such a surprise. "It appears you haven't given me much of a choice," he shoots back reflexively, and while there's no malice — there never is — his soft voice is shot through with something a little strained, although he hides it well.

It's true enough that he's been avoiding Satine, although he's hardly been avoiding thoughts of her. To him it's almost as if no time has passed since last they'd met. Instead, it's been weeks and he knows this. The heavy guilt of it has been laying across his shoulders so long now it's become familiar, almost comforting. He should feel guilty, shouldn't he? He's so freely allowed himself to take care of so many others and to leave Satine off of the list is a particularly cruel slight. One initially aimed at himself — this type of attachment is uniquely forbidden and no amount of justification on his part should allow him to bypass that fact — but ultimately (and as always), Obi-Wan has caught someone else in the crossfire. Now that someone else, the last person he would want to hurt, suffers his misdeeds for being the focus of what he can't even call a misdeed in anyone's hands but his own.

"I'm at your service, Duchess, of course," he adds far more humbly now, his hands slipping into the sleeves of his robe, his head dipping respectfully. His instincts are clawing at retreat, but there's power in the warmth that Satine always leaves for him within the Force. It shivers now, not from cold but from upset, and he aches knowing he's the cause of it, but resists the urge to reach out for fear he might make things worse.

"No, you are avoiding me."

In a private corner of her mind, she wishes that she could lash out at him, that she could be angry for how he has left her to process the trauma of being stabbed to death all on her own. But she knows how much that would hurt him, and what good would it do?

She may not subscribe to the martial ways of her ancestors, but she still has all the pride of a Mandalorian warrior and she will not let him see just how lost she is feeling in this place. She is adrift, caught between life and death with no clear direction beyond a burning wish to get back home, even though she isn't even sure that is possible anymore.

"I have spoken more to general Skywalker than you since I came on board this ship."

My love, she had called him when they reunited, and it remains true. Forever true, a constant fixture in the landscape of her soul, but perhaps reminding him of that yet again had been a mistake. Knowing him, he would prefer not to think about it.

"If you would prefer not to associate with me, I would have thought our past friendship might at least have merited that you tell me so to my face."

Edited 2016-04-25 04:08 (UTC)

"That isn't what I want," he says bluntly, suddenly far too tired for repartee and for half-truths. It's a good enough answer for all of it: He doesn't want to avoid her, he doesn't want her to find more solace in Anakin just by default, and he certainly doesn't want to give up any of the remarkable second chance that's been offered with Satine's return.

But everything comes with a price, he knows. To remain balanced, gaining something here means losing something elsewhere, or at the very least, risking the loss of he Duchess once again. The mere proximity is enough to put her in danger, and while she doesn't shy away, the pain of loss — the loss of her, specifically — ensures that he does.

His chest burns through and through, still fire-hot in its reminder. He'd killed her once, and now here she stands looking as if she could die again by his careless hands.

"My absence is inexcusable and my weakness obvious." He can't bear to lose her (again). "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest."

Something she has found over the years that Jedi are not as good at as she feels a peacekeeper should be. A jedi will not lie to you, no, but the truth you are given is always very carefully tailored. Then again that is the case for most people, jedi just happen to be very, very good at it. Obi-Wan is, in Satine's opinion, a particularly good example of this.

"I understand that me being here must be tremendously difficult for you, but Obi-Wan... I was skewered on a lightsaber not too long ago, and I have been told that my life's work will all be ruined shortly after my death. That is not an easy thing to come to terms with. I am alone, I am tired and I am scared, and there are not many people on this ship I would admit that to."

Actually, he might be the only one, and even then with great reluctance.

"If the best way for you to handle things is for us to be apart, I understand, but please... tell me. Tell me what you want."

Edited 2016-04-25 09:06 (UTC)

He hasn't hidden anything from her (save for himself), and even now there's no effort to tuck away all of those raw areas that have formed over time. It means every flinch, every squirm, is available for her scrutiny, and as she vividly describes her struggle and her loneliness, there's plenty to perceive.

"That isn't what I want," he repeats, this time with a bit more insistence than before. Maybe he can't tell her what he does want, but he's certainly clear on what he doesn't want. For all of his own personal strife — unnecessary, unflattering, unprofessional though it may be — he can't imagine living so separately from Satine on so small a ship with so many people in common. And beyond that, he doesn't want to, even if his actions of late have suggested otherwise.

Kenobi finds he can't lift his eyes from the place where the hem of his robe brushes against the patterned edge of her outfit. "I haven't—" been well, he finishes silently, accusing himself (or maybe excusing himself), but what difference does that make? She hasn't been well. None of them have. He tries for the more obvious truth: "I haven't been available to you. I'm so sorry. Truly, I am."

She reaches out to gently cup his cheek and tilt his face up a little so that he is looking at her, a bittersweet tug at her heartstrings making her smile a little as she repeats his own words back to him.

"Don't you see? You need your friends with you, not held at arm's length."

She knows that he is suffering too, it is quite plain to see, and it cuts her to the bone to know that he is probably trying to carry most of it alone.

She can understand that all too well, really, though their reasons for such behavior may not always line up. She will never quite fathom why jedi are forbidden to form attachments, mostly because it is so plain to see that every single one of them do it anyway. What is the bond between a padawan and their master if not an attachment? Satine lived with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for a year, and while she wouldn't pretend to fully understand their relationship, she thinks it is pretty safe to say that they were well and truly attached. Obi in particular, perhaps.

Still, he showed her that trying to carry your burdens on your own is not always the best course of action, and she wants to do the same for him now.

Edited (found typos) 2016-04-27 13:16 (UTC)

The resting warmth of her hand altogether sets his heart racing, and when their eyes meet, it nearly buckles his knees. He's so weak under her gaze, laid bare by her true understanding of him. At times Obi-Wan wonders if she hasn't held entire dominion over him since their very first meeting. Other times, like now, he knows she has.

In your quest to be self-reliant, have you decided to cut your friends out of your life?

She's right, as she so often is, but admitting as much is admitting he needs help. The weave within the broadcloth that is Obi-Wan Kenobi is shot through with threads that suggest imperfections. The fact that she's willing to tug doesn't necessarily mean she wishes him to unravel, but even testing those limits worries him that he might never return to whole, that be might become mere rag and scrap.

He answers her with a timid smile, but quickly it takes shape into something much more even. "Here I am, within arm's length." So much more for her, but if the concession will move them both forward, it's one he's willing to make.

"Please, let me help." His fingers close around hers and he guides her hand it into his own, enclosing it as gently as if it were made of glass. It's tantamount to changing the subject if she intends to make this about him, but after her earlier admission, he's not about to ignore the fact that Satine clearly needs to be cared for.

The urge to kiss that shy little smile is shockingly strong, but she makes no move to act on it. This is hardly the time to give Obi-Wan more cause to avoid her, when he is showing such gentle willingness to be there for her.

"You know I can only accept that if you let me do the same thing for you."

Her fingers close around his hand, and she gives it a little squeeze.

"I need a friend, not a protector."

She knows that he would be much more comfortable acting as the latter, but when has she ever let him take the easier road?

"There's no reason I can't be both," he replies, gently engaging in that dance they're so accustomed to. The give and take is exhausting at times — they're both willing to put forth so much for each other, to receive so little back, but not to abide by the same in the other — the strange osmosis almost proves too much for already delicately thinned cell walls.

Kenobi breathes out, slow and steady, every bit an affectation if his shuddering aura is an indication. He thinks, not for the first time, that he's glad Kryze was spared the blessed, but often detrimental connection to the all-knowing Force. He may not be able to hide anything else from her, but he can at least hide that.

His fingers knit between hers and Obi-Wan doesn't release her, instead tugging them out from the relative privacy of the bushes. "Come with me." Voice gentle, grip soft, he coaxes the Duchess toward the tree where the kittens romp. Almost immediately, one of them bounds out to meet them. "We can talk here, can't we?"

"We can."

The smile that breaks out on her face when she sees the kittens has very little of her usual royal decorum to it. It is an expression of pure delight, and she feels many years younger as she crouches to hold out a hand to the kitten, her other hand still holding on to Ben's.

"Hello little one."

Her hand gets playfully attacked, and she laughs as the kitten gnaws on her, tiny claws digging into her skin. It hurts a little to be sure, but that is a price well worth paying.

Several more kittens venture out from the bushes and soon are just as interested in their company. Obi-Wan remains standing, mostly focused on watching Satine interact with the animals as opposed to actively engaging them himself.

"I met the gardener," he says conversationally. "Apparently this is typical." It does make him wonder about the MID game, as well — the one with the kittens that grow on trees. Bizarre, but not without its own strange charm.

Kenobi glances sidelong as one of the kittens — a dark animal he recalls from his last visit — proceeds to climb his robe not for the first time. He shakes his head. "As is this. I think I've made a friend."

Edited (wordingish) 2016-05-05 05:50 (UTC)

Satine gets back on her feet and raises an eyebrow at Obi-Wan.

"So it would seem. I suppose I can't argue with such a decision."

Though her tone and facial expression teasingly suggests that she thinks it is one that implies poor taste.

"That would be a first, my dear," he quips back, although he honestly wouldn't argue about the poor taste part. There are times he's certain he's insufferable company — particularly when it comes to Satine and her very particular ways — but that's certainly only part of the time.

He turns some, tilting his head to make room as the kitten makes it all the way up to his shoulder, scrambling to keep its footing among the voluminous hood of his cloak.

"You spoke to Anakin. What did our young friend advise?" Kenobi asks.

"About the situation on Del Pascia? His stance is that we should put the safety of the crew first, and I can hardly disagree with that."

She values all life equally, but you cannot rule a planet without priorities, nor can you navigate a ship and its crew safely through dangerous territory.

She pets the kitten on his shoulder, perhaps mostly because it gives her an excuse to stand close to him. They are still the same people as they were before, still on opposing sides of a conflict they have yet to see the end of... but she is still only human.

"He also claimed that I sound like you, which I found highly offensive."

Said teasingly.

"Of course, I would expect nothing less. You've never been shy about expressing that particular opinion," he responds, his chuckle low and quiet. The kitten purrs in his ear, softening the Jedi Master in a miniscule but perceptable way.

How is it that he found himself here? The urge to reach out — to take Satine into his arms — nags like a burr, it's prickling a reminder of how very against the rules it happens to be, even just as a thought put out into the universe.

Kenobi strokes his beard. "I don't disagree myself; we cannot all entirely dispense of ourselves in the persuit of redemption."

She does have to selfishly wonder how many rules a dead woman can reasonably be expected to follow, but that is a slippery slope she has no intention of sliding down.

Besides, the war might be over for her, but it certainly isn't to Obi-Wan. He has a future to get back to, one that will be as filled with violence as his past. The distance between them is as great as it always has been, and yet... it never did feel as if it existed at all when she looked into his eyes to see a mirror image of her own troubled adoration within them.

"It doesn't feel right, just leaving those poor people to such a horrible fate."

"It never does," he concedes sadly, his expression growing dour. There are a great many injustices happening at any time throughout the universe, and to think one couldn't prevent them all is enough to crush a person.

The kitten begins to enthusiastically chew on Kenobi's hair, scrabbling to keep its footing. He leans his head away, but otherwise tolerates the intrusion.

"It didn't feel right leaving Ceta, either. And I imagine we'll face the same the next place we go as well."

She presses her lips together, clearly struggling not to laugh in spite of the very serious nature of their conversation.

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

And he's just going to keep going as if it doesn't really occur to him that this situation could be amusing to her.

"I find myself considerably more uncertain about the methods of the Captains, as well as the expectation put upon us to only be involved when it's convenient." He fends off the kitten as it tries to paw fruitlessly at his earlobe, and just barely saves himself from a biting attack, all without so much as a hiccup in his conversation. "We can't be expected to modify our stance based on the popular vote."

The kitten meows and Kenobi nods in agreement. "Exactly."

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[closed] Negotiations

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