Draboon, Obi-Wan Kenobi reflected, is a perfectly miserable planet. A questionable terrain, unforgivably warm, and managed to continuously produce a new sort of grievance with every step they took. Obi-Wan sighed at the familiar squelching sound beneath his boots, preparing once more for another trek with wet feet. Combined with sweat, it made things less pleasant than they already were.
At least he had the proper sense to keep his mouth shut about it.
No, no. He was being unfair. She'd been rather good for the past hour or so, walking between himself and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.
The muggy afternoon air had no effect in this deeply forested area. Other than the occasional whistle of the wind throughout the tops of the trees, they had to keep cool themselves.
"Our perspiration should be well-enough for that, Padawan," Qui-Gon's deep voice interrupted his thoughts. He sounded rather amused.
Obi-Wan paused, glancing back. "I wasn't thinking out loud, was I?"
"Some things are better left unsaid, Obi-Wan."
"Only about topics such as these, of course," the young Jedi's gaze fell on the Duchess of Mandalore, gauging her reaction concerning a rather foul topic. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Other than that, she kept any remarks to herself.
Good. Then perhaps the rest of their day would go off without a hitch.
Obi-Wan froze in his tracks. He held out an arm, halting Satine mid stride. She glared, he ignored. A prickle of warning rang through the Force.
"Master..." he suddenly sounded breathless.
"Keep moving, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon commanded. But keep your eyes open.
The Padawan's answering nod was so small it was any wonder the Jedi Master even noticed it. Satine stared, that familiar sensation of frustration at her protectors welling up in her chest. "What is it?" she demanded, crossing her arms, and refusing to move.
Funny how silent the two could quickly become.
"I would appreciate an answer at some point, Master Jedi!"
"Hush!" Obi-Wan snapped.
Satine's eyebrows rose, dangerously high, before her gaze narrowed. The look she favored Obi-Wan with would be enough to stop a lesser man in his tracks.
It was a good thing his back was still to her. There would be no putting up with the Duchess's haughty attitude at the moment.
She, however, did not share that opinion.
"You would do well to mind your attitude and your tongue when addressing me, Jedi." The way she spat out the title would be enough to make her Mandalorian ancestors proud. Cross, tired, and filthy clearly meant the etiquette she thought so highly of was tossed away for now.
Qui-Gon noted the muscle taunt in Obi-Wan's jaw as he grappled with the task at hand. The Duchess' presence was nearly enough to overwhelm, something that clearly aggravated his apprentice, who he himself believed to have made great strides with his Jedi skills.
"Oh, I take it you are simply going to continue to ignore m-!" Satine's words were cut short by the sudden flash of Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Blue plasma trailed horizontally across the floor, and the creature seemed to stand there still utterly intact, before two perfect slices collapsed. Obi-Wan twirled the saber with a flourish, and deactivated the blade.
Unable to keep the trace of satisfaction from his eyes, Obi-Wan turned back to his companions. Satine stared in exasperation, and horror.
"You fool!" she cried. "Do you not realize what you've done?!"
It appears as though I just took care of a pesky bug problem, he wanted to respond, but turning back to his handiwork, Obi-Wan realized too late his mistake.
"Venomite." Qui-Gon observed calmly, but Obi-Wan could sense the sudden influx of worry.
"Killing one only means the rest shall come at us in swarms!" Satine said furiously. "So I hope you are happ-"
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon barked. "Take the Duchess, find a cliffside, and climb." The look that had taken over his leonine features prompted neither of the young people to argue.
Silently, Obi-Wan darted back and snatched Satine, his hand curling around her wrist. They pair disappeared into the trees, their differences momentarily forgotten.
Fascinating, how such things could only occur when one's life was at risk.
"You... dropped me!"
Even hours after the incident, the Duchess appeared to have very little means to allow the incident to pass out of her life.
"And after I helped pull you over the cliff! I saved your life, and you dropped me!" She could go on for hours, that much was clear. But it wasn't simply that issue that was getting to her, that much was clear. And that was why Obi-Wan was tolerating her tirade by keeping his mouth clamped shut.
They'd been on the run for three months, and it showed no hint of slowing down anytime soon. That meant three months away from her planet as her people suffered at the hands of evil men. Three months of putting the lives of two good men - for all of their ridiculous traits, they had proven themselves to be decent on more than one occasion - at risk to save hers. She had never wanted to run and hide. It had been a majority of her court who had prompted such ridiculous action.
The clearing they bunked down in for the night was small, but very well protected by trees and various other. A small hunting cabin stood at the lip, long abandoned and barren. Following a quick inspection, it was deemed well-enough to be the Duchess's quarters for the night.
Obi-Wan tended to a small fire, which provided very little warmth in the startlingly cool clearing, searching through the Force for his Master's familiar presence. The attention he gave the Duchess was very little. Knowing this, Satine pressed her lips together, pulled her travelling cloak closer about her willowy frame and gazed down at the fire.
Seconds later, the Padawan was on his feet. It was the only sign of relief he would show at the sight of his Master appearing through the dense trees.
"You covered your tracks well," Qui-Gon noted, seating himself promptly in front of the fire.
Obi-Wan nodded. Satine stared from one to the other. It continued to unnerve her, how they communicated without speaking. As though they held the right to keep things from her.
Qui-Gon fixed her with a penetrating look, as though he had the ability to sense her thoughts as well. Given what she knew of the Jedi, he no doubt did. Nonplussed, Satine gazed back with as much of a proud look as she could manage, but, feeling as bedraggled as she did, it did not hold the same effect as such things normally would. And with the Jedi, nothing was ever as simple, as normal, as things used to be.
Obi-Wan had the sense to keep his expression, for the most part, blank. But even he, the great Jedi Padawan - who had proven himself more foe than friend these past months - could not keep the faint tugs of smug amusement from pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sensing her confusion, her annoyance, and he thought he could laugh?
Satine's fair skin colored. She rose to her feet, the muscles along her elegant jawline tight. Rather than state her mind as she so frequently had before, she turned to Qui-Gon and stated icily, "I'm going to retire now, Master Jinn. Good night." Without so much as a sniff of disdain in Obi-Wan's direction, she turned sharply but gracefully on her heel and into the cabin.
Obi-Wan hardly resisted in casting her retreating form a dark look. "Stubborn, blasted woman..." he muttered, barely able to hide his contempt.
Qui-Gon, who had remained perfectly silent throughout the whole ordeal, cast his apprentice a mingled look. "Saying such things about royalty is very risky." he warned.
"She deserves it," Obi-Wan growled. He irritably poked at the useless fire, hoping in vain for some flames to return. The clearing suddenly felt rather chilly. "She needs a decent talking to."
"Not from you, I wager." Caution rippled through the Force.
It was quickly followed by a surge of annoyance.
"But of course not from me!" Obi-Wan exploded, and for a brief moment Qui-Gon saw something childlike. Vulnerable. The jarring personalities between his apprentice and the Duchess of Mandalore had not gone unaware to him these past three months, but rather than place himself in the middle, Qui-Gon had hoped that the two young people would find some form of common ground. Droplets, small bursts on rare occasions. Other than that, nearly every conversation ended in some form of quarrel, silent or otherwise.
Obi-Wan seemingly caught his mistake. He took his annoyance and buried it deep, dropping his burning gaze away from Qui-Gon's penetrating stare.
Silence took over. Obi-Wan was hunched, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze remained fixed on the ground. Thinking, thinking... always thinking too much. For a reason only the Force could will, seeing his Padawan in such a state made Qui-Gon feel rather wistful. Feeling his old age, perhaps, and wondering where the time went.
Pushing that aside, he reached into one of the few bags they'd been carrying with them, producing a ration bar from it's depths. "That's the last of those," Qui-Gon remarked. Obi-Wan looked up when he noticed Qui-Gon holding the bar out to him. "Take that to the Duchess," he said. "She requires it more than we do to keep her strength up."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, wanting to remind Qui-Gon of what was said at the beginning of this mission. If the Duchess wished to survive, she had to have the means to care for herself. They were not her servants to answer every beck and call. Qui-Gon's hard look made him close his mouth, roll his eyes, and rise to his feet. Satisfied, his mentor assumed a meditative position, and within seconds became still, as immovable as much of the landscape that surrounded them.
Knowing he would not desire it any longer, Obi-Wan kicked dirted over what was left of the flames - flickering embers now, really -, and stalked stiffly into the cabin.
Satine was curled up into a loose ball, her back to the door. She had tugged her hair out of the topknot she'd been wearing it in, so that it fell in a white-blond wave down the side of the couch. Rather than use her cloak as a blanket, it was folded beneath her, a slight barrier between aged furniture and herself. The room was dark, the only source of proper sight being provided by the milky moonlight shining in through the open door.
Although he could sense she was still awake, Obi-Wan resisted in the childish urge to poke the young woman between the shoulders, do something to have those blue eyes flashing at him once again. Her constant attempts to challenge him extensively, an excellent verbal sparrer if there ever was one. Blast it, he was losing his mind, wasn't he?
Luckily, Satine stirred, turning over so that she could sit up and fix him indignant look. "While you may be my protector, Master Jedi, I do not believe I require you to watch over me in such an intimate moment as my resting time."
Obi-Wan tensed. "Begging your pardon, Duchess. I meant no disrespect," he gave a slight tilt of his head, as much of a sarcastic bow as he could manage. Satine returned it with a derisive snort.
The young Jedi tossed the rations bar into her lap. Satine picked it up gingerly, as though the bar was another one of the venomites, poised and ready to bite.
"We haven't poisoned it, if that's what you're worried about."
"I know that!" Satine snapped. Obi-Wan took her annoyance and deflected it. He would not allow her sour mood to dampen him any further this night. Ignoring her as she busied herself with peeling off the wrapper, Obi-Wan folded his legs beneath him. Hands on his knees, he closed his eyes and let out a breath. There is no emotion, there is only peace...
Satine cleared her throat. Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, but he kept his eyes closed, loosing himself deeper into the Force.
Satine coughed.
Obi-Wan sighed. He opened his eyes, finding half of the ration bar being held out to him by delicate fingers.
"I do not believe you took the time to feed yourself today," Satine said. She appeared uncharacteristically embarrassed, judging by the small smile unfurling at the corners of her mouth. Because really, hinting that one was concerned for the well-being of the person they'd clashed with more than once simply was not how things were done. With more confidence, she added, "And the last thing I need is one of my Jedi protectors passing out due to undernourishment."
"The Force will keep us strong, Your Highness." Obi-Wan replied with a touch of warmth. As cold as she may appear, let it never be said that Satine was heartless. He accepted the severed bar but did not eat it, instead setting it on his knee for later. There was a rustle of fabrics as Satine moved back to the couch, curling up into a ball for warmth once more.
Hardly any time at all had passed when Satine asked. "Is it boring?"
Obi-Wan let out a breath, but did not open his eyes again. "Is what boring, M'Lady?"
"Meditation," Satine retorted. "When yourself and Master Jinn are not being utterly charming all of the time, or throwing yourselves at everything that moves with your lightsabers erect, you are both meditating. Surely you must wish to do something else, such as sleeping?"
"We do sleep, Your Grace."
"I know. But you seem to meditate much more."
He took to consider her question with great care, as anyone in his position would (one could hope, at least). In speaking the words, Obi-Wan could almost hear Master Yoda's gravelly voice thread through them. "It is a practice we have been encouraged to perform since we were very small. Through meditation we connect deeply with ourselves, and the Force that surrounds us. It is through meditation we seek unity with the Force." Explaining it alone was not nearly enough, of course. To understand meditation - a Jedi's meditation - would be next to impossible for any outsider to fully grasp. Still, it was oddly amusing to see Satine nod slowly, as though she did.
"I see." she replied softly. Then, a delicate eyebrow raised, and the Force felt warm and light. Teasing. "So, it is something never to do by halves then, I assume?"
Hard to resist such an easy moment with such a stubborn individual, Obi-Wan offered a slight smile in return. "You assume correctly, Satine."