CHAPTER FOUR:
Owie Sith.
Obi-wan Kenobi's P.O.V
"Is there any possibility of utilizing a translation droid to make communication easier?"
Obi-wan queried Master Yoda, gazing through the open doorway to the chambers beyond. Padawan Anakin stood inside the Temples healing rooms, along with the girl he called Leilani. She had been unconscious for much of their ride to the Temple on the speeder, since Obi-wan had reconvened with his Padawan outside the Hyperion tower in fact, and for many hours since their swift arrival at the Jedi Temple. She had only regained consciousness an hour past, but she was, the healing Masters assured them, nearly entirely healthy already.
It seemed it would not be easy to keep a Progenitor down for long, partly due to the point that, Master Vokara Che assured, the girl's Midi-chlorian count made Anakin Skywalker's appear positively anaemic. Fast healing, conceivably, surely, was the least of all her abilities.
Yet, since she had aroused with only a flash of blistered pink skin on hip, those privy to the healing chambers, very few in number, had taken to trying to talk to her. Anakin, thus far, was the only one providing anything remotely fruitful, and even then it was slow business, confusing on both their parts Obi-wan thought, as the pair tried to employ hand gestures, onomatopoeias, and, the latest turn of events, Leilani resorting to using healing paste to paint finger-pictures on the chamber wall.
Yoda, who had been silently watching from beside Obi-wan, leant heavy on his rooted cane.
"Protobesh the girl speaks. Dead language, it is. Aurebesh its evolution, some crossover but not close enough, I know. Translation no Droid can do. Missing too many words, Protobesh exceedingly complex. Slow, we must be, yet get there we will."
Obi-wan nodded, having already predicted as such but hoping all the same, and, with no more said, began to enter the chamber, Master Yoda following his footsteps. Immediately, the girl's gaze snapped towards him, darting from her merry-red-paste-paintings, and anew he was struck terribly with how impossibly green the gaze was.
Gathering his senses, Obi-wan was quick to stop a little away from the girl, daring not to crowd her too much, and as previously discussed outside this room, placed a hand upon his chest.
"Obi Wan Kenobi."
He bowed low, softly, and eased himself back to a stand. Leilani blinked at him, clearly puzzled by this strange, white-robed man, and was only diverted by Anakin patting his own chest, gaining her attention.
"Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin gestured towards Obi-wan.
"Obi Wan Kenobi."
And dragged the motion over to the last inhabitant of the room.
"Master Yoda."
She smiled then, a toothy thing almost as brilliant as her presence, something in the air flickering and pulsing, the Force, thrumming with her emotions, raw and untamed. Stepping away from the wall, she slapped a red-stained hand across her own chest, soiling her healing gown with a comet of scarlet.
"Leilani Potter."
Obi-wan nearly swallowed his own tongue. Why? For there was a crossover there, a word that had survived the ages, weathered linguistic advancement, all to be said right here, right now, in understanding. The word?
"Potter?"
Obi-wan spluttered. Leilani simply patted her chest once more, grin becoming fierce and dimpled.
"Leilani Potter."
Obi-wan's gaze shot upwards, to her crown of flaming copper curls, ginger, some would call it, orange, others. It appeared Master Yoda came to the same startling conclusion he had.
"It appears foolish Master Yuric was not. Orange crockery is here, before us now. Most interesting."
As fascinating as this surprise was, and as much as the Jedi Council would have to convene and discuss what this could possibly mean in the grander scale, it did not seem to either translate very well to Leilani, or appear all that important to her, as, suddenly, there was a fizz, a sizzle, and a crack.
She was gone.
Gone with a pop.
And then-
Crack-
Obi-wan jolted, startled, as Leilani appeared out of thin air right before him, only a measly few step away, snatching at his arm, tugging, yanking him towards the wall and her intricate murals.
Her touch ignited his veins, fire and light throbbing through tendon and muscle and bone marrow, a spur of Force ripping outwards and piercing-
"It seems she can teleport as well as fly, Master."
Obi-wan scowled at his deadpanned Padawan, as he tried to fight down the undignified yelp her abrupt disappearance and reappearance wrenched from his lips, the feeling of star-fire bursting beneath his flesh.
Anakin, too pleased to see his typically passive Master stunned and unsettled, chuckled just as Leilani dragged Obi-wan as close to the wall as she could where, frantically, she dropped his arm and pointed.
"Fulmic Sirius!"
The image she pointed towards, one lost amongst countless, was a very crude looking stick figure with a quite jolly and dramatic moustache and beard. Another finger jab, a new cry.
"Sirius!"
Right… Yes, of course! Sirius was not a curse, nor was it an emotional state of being, not a place or planet-
It was a person.
Obi-wan waved towards the stick-man.
"Sirius?"
Leilani seemed delighted, flushed and dimpled and grinning, at finally, finally being understood. And at the first taste of heady recognition, she moved left, incredibly light on her feet, swift as lightening, down the wall to another drawing and pointing once more.
This one crawled across the brick and stone, condensed and almost panicked in its strokes, as if the mere imagery of it was something to fear, something to weep over, something to… Grieve.
What appeared to be more stick-figures danced around an arch standing proud in the middle, some figures headless, other's down on the floor, smudges of death and mortality, and it was then Obi-wan realised they were not dancing at all, not quite, but fighting.
"Bad juju! Boom boom! Death mumsan avric mula! Uh… Megkel. Megkel!"
She fisted her hands before herself, one a ghastly tarnished red, and locked her knuckles against each other, one side bashing the other, the other pushing back, struggling, fighting, battling for the ground between her arms.
Obi-wan understood immediately.
"War?"
She clicked, and clapped, and shot her hands out as wide as they could stretch, that throbbing in the air turning heavy and thick.
"War! Big War!"
Obi-wan edged closer to the wall, fingered the still drying paste, thumb creeping over the face of someone either sleeping or dead. It was the hope in him that wished it were the former, but the pragmatist who knew it was the latter.
"You were fighting a war?"
Again, she gestured towards the stick-figure of the man she called Sirius.
"Peshew!"
Rather dramatically, her hands shot to her own chest, and she stumbled back, against the wall, as if she herself had been shot down. Only when the point of her display was well and truly made, did she jump back from the wall, towards the battleground painting, and patted at the arch standing proud in the heart of death and decline.
"Peshew Sirius! Sirius febunamela…"
She stared bottomlessly at the arch, dark and down, voice drifting low and soft like a candle caught in a storm.
"Febunamela."
There was no need for a crossover, or any identification of the word, to understand it felt like something lost.
Deliberately, gingerly, Obi-wan crept towards Leilani's side, his own gaze trailing over the hollowing bow of red paint with a smudge rippling in the centre.
"Sirius was shot and fell through this arch? No… Not arch… Shroud. That's a Shroud, is it not? Sirius was shot and fell through the Shroud."
Leilani gave on last stroke to the painting before she pointed towards herself.
"Samkan… Samkan Sirius. Gernliemn von ikkaba Veil. Leilani… Veil… Sirius. Leilani, Veil, Sirius. Samkan Sirius."
And there it was. Veil, Shroud, a cusp among so few. Leilani, Shroud, Sirius. An equation easy to make.
Gentle, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact, or as much as he could through her thin healing gown, wishing to keep his wits about him, Obi-wan laid a hand upon her rather delicate shoulder.
The star-fire burned up his fingers, through his arm, settling and inciting something deep within the cavity of his chest, winding like snakes hewn from crystal and sunshine.
Concentrate.
"Samkan means save, doesn't it? Sirius was shot, he fell through the Shrou-… The Veil, and you dove in after to save him."
Master Yoda's voice wound out from behind, and Obi-wan nearly, again, startled at the unexpected noise. What had gotten into him?
Oh, he knew.
For his hand, despite there being no excuse or logical reason for it to be, still laid gently on the delicate shoulder, the skin that flowered warmth and life and Force, and something that glistened.
"Fighting who she was?"
Leilani blinked, and blinked some more, and all she did was blink, plainly baffled by the question she could not understand. Obi-wan gestured her way.
"War? You?"
Once More he motioned towards her, and then to the cloaked stick figures around the crudely drawn Shroud.
Something brilliant sparked in her green, green gaze.
"Sith Larduc Voldemort. Sith Maglek... Bad juju."
That-
Well. That was disconcerting, for, again, a crossover term was found and, arguably, one of the worst options there had been to discover common ground.
Anakin piped up from the edge of the wall.
"You were fighting the Sith?"
Leilani skirted down the wall, to the far end where, in red paste, a towering figure twisted in knots stood, something coiling laying at its feet. Pointing to the… Thing, not quite human looking, and then to herself, she regarded them with an almost frantic sort of desperation.
Desperation to be understood.
"Sith Voldemort. Sith-manulem Bellatrix… Sith… Bad juju!"
Drawing her hand away from the wall for the final time, she tapped at the scar splintering down her forehead.
"Bad juju! Benoshel nivbein dahsgael huneds destiknee selvcor-"
Obi-wan cut in, plucking at the only similar thread in a weave of garbled misunderstanding.
"Destiny?"
Leilani nodded wildly.
At least physical communication was not so complicated to transfer over the language barrier.
"Destiny… Me war Sith Voldemort."
Ostensibly, healing wasn't the only thing she did fast. She was picking up language swiftly too. A blessing, to be sure, but still a long, winding road to traverse. And, Obi-wan thought, marginally tragic that her first half-formed sentence in this new world she found herself in included the word war and Sith within its syntax.
Nevertheless, small steps towards unhindered communication aside, what exactly that sentence meant concerned him more than, possibly, it should have.
"It's your destiny to battle this Sith Lord."
Her hands dropped to her side, swinging limply, passion lost. She seemed so sad then, staring at the paintings. Sad and young and too small.
"Find… Sirius. Find Sirius... Hevmun Horlum. War Sith Lord. Save… All."
Save all.
A heavy burden to bare for any one of any age.
"You must find Sirius and go home to fight the Sith."
Master Yoda, however, interjected.
"No way back there is. One way is the Shroud. Her war over millennia ago. Sith lost. Yet, here she is, and perhaps new battle close. Train, I think. Strong in the Force she is, but emotional. Uncontrolled."
Possibly, there was another crossover word, imaginably one Leilani did not quite like, as she squared out, sharpening her lithe frame to something keen and sleek, nose curling in irritation. She looked-
Deadly.
And angry.
"Sirius! Dremkek Sirius!... Sirius. Uncontrolled-… Buckakavis Lumosteron! Van mislere umna furaman! Usa groogalin mother fucker!"
Oh-
Oh.
Fairly… Creative then, the Progenitor idiom, certainly.
A tap of Yoda's staff against the marble, and the old Master merely laughed brightly.
"Spirited, indeed."
A hiss in the air impended, and Obi-wan could feel it sizzling, growing and-
He stepped between the two, amongst Master and Progenitor, and held his hands aloft.
"You want to find Sirius?"
The energy-
The Force in the air abated, fizzling to a gentle hum, not quite gone, never gone around Leilani, Obi-wan suspected, but… Soothed, and the young woman simply blinked over at him.
"We'll help you find Sirius… Find Sirius."
He motioned to the crooked Shroud on the wall.
"There are seven Shrouds. Seven."
A blank stare that spun engrossed as Obi-wan held up seven fingers to aid the translation of his words.
"We'll look at the other six. Sirius could have come through one of them."
Pointing to his own eye, he flashed six with his fingers over to the focused face.
"We'll look. Find Sirius."
A frenzied nod.
"Find Sirius!"
"Yes! Find Sirius. Six Shrouds."
She twisted the strange tongue out, tasting vowels.
"Six… Shrouds. Find Sirius… At… Six Shrouds."
Obi-wan's smile was met with her own dazzling one, but the moment was short lived as the Progenitor seemingly came crumbling in on herself, cagey, stealing five steps closer to him with her quick, quick feet.
This close he could sip star-dust and moonshine and-
"Sith Wizahrd…. Sith…"
Her voice was low, hushed and rushed. Obi-wan frowned deeply.
"Sith?"
She pointed to the Shroud on the wall, and then, disconcertingly, upwards.
"The roof?"
He asked, and she repeated the motion all over again, ending in a tap to her red-smeared chest.
"Sith… Fumlict Sith von bustgard."
Sith, roof, her-
The thought sinks inside him like a setting sun, skies darkening under cloud.
No stars.
No moon.
No light.
Only dread.
"You can sense the Sith… And you felt one on the roof."
She touched at the peculiar scar on her forehead.
"Owie! Burnlac, burnlac. Owie Sith!"
The scar must… Burn? Burn when in the presence of Sith. And, if it had hurt on the roof-
Owie indeed.
From over his shoulder, he met Yoda's eye, no longer merrily bright.
The old Master was concerned too.
"Careful we must be. Search, but careful. Sith here, Progenitor in danger could be. Why droids fired live rounds, feasibly. Sith would not like Progenitor. Stronger. Harder to control or influence. Challenge to plans. Order to fire someone must have granted. Trace order-"
"Find the Sith."
Obi-wan finished.
Find Sith. Find Sirius. Find sanity.
"If this Sirius fellow has come through another Shroud, he could be in danger too."
Master Yoda nodded soberly.
"Stay here for today, leave with young Skywalker and Leilani tomorrow. Find Sirius and return. Visit Security hub I will with Master Windu. Discover breach, we must."
Anakin Skywalker's P.O.V
"This is where we will be staying for the night."
Standing at the edge of the temple chamber door, Leilani Potter regarded Anakin Skywalker from outside the room.
"Find Sirius. Six Shrouds."
Anakin exhaled long and low, shaking his head as he tried, seemingly unsuccessfully, to mime morning for the fourteenth time.
"Go in the morning. Master-… Obi-wan must prep our flight and speak with the Council… And you're not understanding a word I say, are you?"
Leilani shuffled her feet at the crux of the door, but she did not enter.
"Find Sirius. Six Shrouds."
One-word sentences then.
"Later."
"Lahtur?"
Anakin grinned and nodded.
"Later."
Finally. Some understanding and-
Leilani bent down on her haunches, flicking her wrist and letting go of the object in her hand.
The jar of healing paste she had stolen from the Healing rooms rolled across the bolted floor, bouncing to a stop at Anakin's feet. She stood again, grinned, and pointed to the little pot.
"Lahterr!"
Anakin chuckled, part joyful, part despairing.
"No… That's a Jar. Jar."
Leilani indicated over her shoulder, to the corridor beyond.
"Find Sirius six Shrouds umamalam?"
Lurching over to a chair, Anakin sank down deep into the cushions, face dipping into his hands.
It was going to be a long day.
A very long day.
The sound of cautious footsteps creeping closer tickled his ears.
"Leilani mahke Skyweaver conluma-… Sad?"
When his hands fell from his face, Anakin spotted Leilani in the room, peering at him curiously.
Woefully.
As hard as this was for them, it must have been harder for her still. Dropped in a strange world with no one who spoke your language, fired at and chased and injured, only to still not be understood on the most basic level.
Anakin's hands dropped into his lap, and he tried to smile as softly as he could.
"No… Leilani, Anakin friends. Not sad… Frustrated. Trying. Anakin trying."
She peered around herself then, as if searching for something, stroking at her hip only to find it empty.
That did not stop her, however, as she came to the centre of the room, sat down crossed legged, and patted at the spot in front of her determinedly.
"Rymla! Rymla!"
Carefully and inquisitively, Anakin shadowed her movement, slipping to the floor before her. Only once he was settled did she move, scooting on her legs to get closer, so close their knees knocked, straightening her back, and holding her hands out before herself, as one would if they were cupping water from a running stream.
Those green eyes slipped shut.
Meditation.
Fantastic.
One might have thought you could get away from such tedious things with a Progenitor, but clearly-
"Lumos-Avanire."
A light sparked between her palms, almost a blinding white, hot and growing, rolling into a tight little ball the size of a fist, whirling and drumming like a heartbeat.
His heartbeat.
That was his heartbeat, Anakin realized.
A steady thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The Progenitor-
Leilani, she was… She was holding his heartbeat between her gentle, scarred hands.
Her lashes fluttered, green eyes bright, smile splitting across her speckled face.
"Usa."
Anakin frowned.
"Usa?... You? As in me?"
"Usa!"
She jutted her hands out sharply, still ablaze by the ball of beating light, and, slowly, Anakin cupped his own hands.
"I can't do what you do-"
She ignored him, stretching out, creeping her hands close to his and… Tipping.
The ball of light slipped, hovering, held within his own hands and-
It felt like her. Like light seeping through the places where atoms danced, and the hollows where wind could freeze, where water ran backwards, and thoughts hovered between land and dream. Slowly, her hands came to slip around his own, fingers tracing down the side of his palm, resting against the joint of his wrist.
"Hamlev."
Hold.
Anakin thought it might mean hold, and hold he did, to the sense, to the Force, to the burning beat between his hands.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
No.
Not just one beat.
Two. Another, quieter, kinder, pounding between the beats.
Hers.
Leilani's smile grew.
"Usa!"
Anakin stared down at the throbbing orb of light.
"Me… I'm doing that too?"
"Pumva."
Push.
How did he know that meant push? Why would-
The Force.
She was made of it, sculpted and shaped and sewn from it, it sang in her blood, and glimmered in her eye, and shined from the fire of her hair and-
And she could speak through it, rudimentary senses at best, push and pull and all holds, if there was someone else there to push and pull and sing right back.
Eyes slipping shut, Anakin stretched out, timid, probing, and plucked.
The ball in his hand kindled, burning brighter, growing even at this shy touch.
Leilani laughed delightedly, and, idly, Anakin thought she understood now.
Trying.
The ball settled before it swirled, twisting in on itself. Anakin thought he sensed something… A tug, yes, coy, at his braid.
Now it was Anakin's turn to chuckle vibrantly.
"That's my Padawan braid. What? You don't like it?"
The light in his palms positively tickled.
She thought it looked… Funny.
An image flashed between his eyes. Some sort of small creature, a rodent, a sweep of a bald tail.
His chuckle morphed to a flushed laugh.
"That's just rude."
The sensation between his hand changed, rolling to something… Small. Alone. Lost.
"Find Sirius six Shroud?"
His mouth opened-
"Late-"
And closed. In its place, Anakin focused down at his hands, touched out anew and tried, tried as hard as he could to picture sunrise, how it feels on the skin, rising light being blinked from sleepy eyes-
"Morning."
Leilani said, and Anakin grinned.
"Morning!"
She practically bounced where she sat, shuffling impossibly closer, so close they almost shared the same breath, leaning over the ball of light.
Once more, her eyes crept shut, a crease of concentration puckering her brows low, and the light altered, elongating, shaping, sprouts lengthening and fattening until, between them, white and bright stood a hovering… Building of some sort. Capped, carved from stone, it was an imposing structure, but the feel of it, the sensations over the Force were… Warm. Warm and loving and caring.
"Hogwarts."
Anakin stared over at her, haloed in the light of the Force.
"That's your home, isn't it?"
She nodded; voice pitched smooth.
"Home."
Emboldened by the progress, perhaps as foolhardy as Obi-wan accused Anakin of being at times, Anakin reached out swiftly, prodding and-
The building churned to something dark, a door with deadbolts and chains and a damp dark hole where a child was inside, locked in, crying for parents long gone, murdered, and-
Leilani yanked her hands back, scurrying away on her hands and feet, stumbling before standing.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
She jabbed an accusatory finger at him.
"Rude!"
And, of course, Obi-wan decided that was the perfect time to come strolling into the room, gaze glancing between the Padawan still sitting on the floor, now empty handed, and the Progenitor looking as if she was going to start trying to kick his shins.
His Master's gaze zeroed in on him, shoulders drooping in exasperation.
"Anakin, what did you do now?"
Thoughts?