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ex_forcechoke292) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-06-30 06:17 pm
ex_forcechoke292) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-06-30 06:17 pm
[closed;] you ran into the night, you can't be found
Who: Anakin Skywalker (forcechoke) and Kylo Ren (outer_space)
When: Backdated to 6/27-6/30.
Where: Outside/MERO #010
What: Skywalker family drama. Surprise. [*VADERGATE, a drama in (like) 15 parts (or something), this being the ninth of those 15 parts.]
Warnings: Violence, strong language, adult content. We're just very sordid, angry idiots.
[Now that he's moved in with Obi-Wan, he's so much closer to that offending room that his glowering in its direction had become something of a ritual. As angry as he is with himself--and he is still very angry--there is something to be said for Kylo Ren's unearthing of the subject before it had come to a head. As if he'd known. Planned it.
The man might not be a Sith, though Anakin's not really sure what else his demeanor (and that interest in Vader's legacy) points to, and he might be family, though he's not sure what to think about that either, but that doesn't curtail at least a good portion of that anger being directed at that room now just down the hallway (too easily accessible).
He's given it time. He's given it a chance to temper, to fade, to get easier. The anger comes and goes, but the guilt...that hasn't ever gone away.
It is a particular fit of pique, a spike of what he thinks is something akin to clear-headedness even as angry as he is, that has him stop glaring and instead storm his way over. For answers, he tells himself. Real ones this time.
Anakin doesn't knock as he approaches the door. He waits, gives it a moment. He knows Kylo Ren knows. Pleasantries aren't necessary. For once: patience is a virtue.]
forcechoke) and Kylo Ren (outer_space)When: Backdated to 6/27-6/30.
Where: Outside/MERO #010
What: Skywalker family drama. Surprise. [*VADERGATE, a drama in (like) 15 parts (or something), this being the ninth of those 15 parts.]
Warnings: Violence, strong language, adult content. We're just very sordid, angry idiots.
[Now that he's moved in with Obi-Wan, he's so much closer to that offending room that his glowering in its direction had become something of a ritual. As angry as he is with himself--and he is still very angry--there is something to be said for Kylo Ren's unearthing of the subject before it had come to a head. As if he'd known. Planned it.
The man might not be a Sith, though Anakin's not really sure what else his demeanor (and that interest in Vader's legacy) points to, and he might be family, though he's not sure what to think about that either, but that doesn't curtail at least a good portion of that anger being directed at that room now just down the hallway (too easily accessible).
He's given it time. He's given it a chance to temper, to fade, to get easier. The anger comes and goes, but the guilt...that hasn't ever gone away.
It is a particular fit of pique, a spike of what he thinks is something akin to clear-headedness even as angry as he is, that has him stop glaring and instead storm his way over. For answers, he tells himself. Real ones this time.
Anakin doesn't knock as he approaches the door. He waits, gives it a moment. He knows Kylo Ren knows. Pleasantries aren't necessary. For once: patience is a virtue.]
no subject
That's the problem: those righteous indignations are why they're here, and why it always seems to come back to this. The Jedi may not always have a point, but he still believes in them enough. In the real cause. And watching frustration only beget more of itself over and over again...
This isn't the way to get the answers he wants. (If that's even possible.)
The gaping is cut off, gives way to a pause where he visibly swallows back the urge. The intensity in his gaze, however, doesn't really change. It's tinged with something softer at the edges, painful, but it is no less insistent.]
My mother. [The start is rough, like he's dragging the words over sandpaper.] Died for me. Because of me.
[It's a desperate move, to bring this up. Somewhere, somehow, he thinks it might be the only one he has left.]
Countless soldiers. My entire Order. [A stuttered breath follows. It's still raw, watching it happen, being told the cause, and the weight of the guilt that follows.] As I'm told, a billion or so more.
[The scope of that is unimaginable, he still can't fathom how anyone can live with a scar like that, the number barely computes in an abstract, let alone when it's referring to people.]
My children deserve better than this. Their children [the inflection and steeling in his glance is pointed] deserve better.
[Where does that leave us?]