A/N: Hello, my dear readers. I've been keeping quiet for a while, I know, but I was inspired to write this when I saw a post by a very talented artist on tumblr, americankimchi, who drew fanart for my main Star Wars fic, The Silent Song. I was going to put all the scenes into one chapter as a oneshot, but I thought that posting by chapter would work better for the overall feel and pacing. Since all the scenes put together were supposed to add up to oneshot length, this entire fic will probably have around nine chronological chapters, each a short scene in Obi-Wan's lifetime.
As I originally intended for this to be oneshot, I have many scenes already written, and so I will probably post the next chapter within the next few hours.
As for The Silent Song, I'm roughly a quarter of the way through the next chapter. It's the first thing I'll write after I finish this (and I probably willfinish this in around two days' time).
This story is not a part of The Silent Song universe, though it exists in the canonical universe and the same one as Tea and Deathsticks.
To know more about my stories and characters, or if you want to check out fanart others have drawn for me, you can visit my tumblr at eirianerisdar tumblr com (replace the spaces with dots)
EDIT 28/3/2017: Read while listening to a playlist set for this story (one song per chapter) on Spotify by searching The Rain Curtain (Eirian Erisdar) Tumblr url above also edited 28/3/2017.
The Rain Curtain
(:~:)
Eirian Erisdar
Chapter 1: Rain on Coruscant
The first time Obi-Wan Kenobi experiences rain, he is alone.
It is one of those rare trips out of the cloister of the Temple, and Obi-Wan had wandered away from the other initiates, Force-signature drawn tight around him in defense against the sheer presence of one of Coruscant's busiest markets – and also quite conveniently shielding his escape from the awareness of the clan-masters. He gravitates towards the crowds at the plaza's centre, drawn inexplicably by the syncopated harmony of a hundred different languages spoken on the same small stretch of duracrete. The musical chatter calls to him, whispers into the Force of worlds days away by hyperspace but eons beyond in real-time; of squalor and riches, of starlight and shadow, of knights and masters.
Obi-Wan stands and tilts his head back, reveling in the closest thing to the music of the spheres that can be heard here, on Coruscant's surface.
And so when the first heavy droplet hits his face, Obi-Wan snaps open his eyes in surprise and catches the next raindrop square in the eye.
He blinks reflexively, the clear liquid flicking over his cerulean iris like the unexpected chill of a stormfront over sea; fresh and wholly unbreathed, and yet icy with the coming gale.
The pale, translucent grey of Coruscant's skies seems to stir, thickening and congealing from smoke to slate. Even as Obi-Wan gapes upwards, the pitter-patter of stray raindrops skips and crescendos into a laughing chorus of syncopated beats.
Unbidden, the Force swells in sympathy with the clouds above, and suddenly the sheeting rain turns to hammered needles of gold. A strange double-vision layers itself over the grey wetness of rain on duracrete, and Obi-Wan feels each raindrop on his upturned hands like a shudder of time shattering against hyperspace.
When Obi-Wan finally manages to make himself look away from the sky, he finds himself quite alone.
It would seem that he in his enraptured wonder had completely missed the clearing of the square. Where there were crowded stalls minutes before now stands nothing but discarded awnings and scattered plastifilm boxes. The sudden solitude does not perturb Obi-Wan; he is wrapped securely in the Force, and though the moisture soaks him to his bones, it brings the Living Force with it, suffusing him with lightning and life.
He reaches up towards the sky and lowers his shields in one glorious laugh. The storm seems to crash through him with new strength, and he is everything; he is the icicles melting into rain as it falls down through the atmosphere kilometers above, he is the bounce of droplets off the pitted duracrete, and he is the trickle of moisture that seeps its way between the paving stones and down Coruscant's hungry pores, down to the lower levels and their forests of neon lights–
A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan snaps back into himself so rapidly that the recoil stings his soul.
He looks up into the irate face of the Jedi clanmaster and grins so broadly he thinks he might burst.
The clanmaster's face twitches.
The rainfall stops, but even as Obi-Wan is towed away back to the Temple by one stinging ear, he remembers the beautiful syncopation of raindrops on his skin, and the bright voice of the Force singing with every single one.
Next chapter: Blizzard on Ilum
I'll post the next chapter within a few hours. Thank you for reading, and as always, reviews and favourites are appreciated. Do have a look at my fanfic sideblog on tumblr if you want more.