Here's chapter two. Hope it was worth the wait. :D
* * *
"Oh, I feel just awful about your pocket chrono!"
Nara waved her hand impatiently at the guard on duty, silent indication - he could only assume - for the gate to be opened, allowing for the admittance of both her - and the Jedi Her Highness was most unceremoniously clinging to.
The doors parted and the pair passed through the twisted gold archway, finding themselves on the narrow garden path for the second time that day, this time lacking their two companions.
"Your Majesty, I have already forgiven you," Qui-Gon replied, his voice without a trace of the exasperation churning inside him, "twice."
"I know." Her crimson lips pulled into a slight frown, "It's just that it was, after all, my fault that it fell in the water."
No, Qui-Gon thought, it was my fault for allowing you to take it.
The two were standing at the side of a beautifully ornate fountain - a fountain whose splendor was not lost to the Jedi master, though with detail present in Nara's narrative one might have thought he had never seen water before. As the princess began her third circle of the small pool, his hand slowly slipped down to the pocket of his robe - no sudden movements, so as not to draw her attention - and carefully drew from the cloth a small, brass chrono. One glance and it was safely back in the depths of his pocket. The glance, however, was not quick enough to escape the eye of the infatuated.
Nara hastily finished her journey round the fountain, positioning herself on the edge closest to Qui-Gon and beckoning him to sit with her. She danced around the subject of the chrono before pointblank asking to see it.
'It's charmingly rugged,' she had said, 'Just like you.'
He's patience soon wore thin as the princess' fascination with the rudimentary time-telling device bordered on absurd. However, her final question - is it waterproof? - to which he answered negatively, found the chrono sinking to the shallow bottom of the fountain bed and Nara cursing her application of lotion - rubbed on a mere six hours prior.
Now, the princess allowed the master to guide her through the winding path, as if she had never laid eyes on its beaten walkway before. "And to make matters worse, we are now late for our dinner." Using her free hand - the one not clutching Qui-Gon's robe - she pulled a stray curl from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, "I'm sure Proxa has your apprentice suitably entertained."
Qui-Gon, far from dumb to the meaning behind her words, sped up his pace. "I am sorry, Your Highness," he spoke to the young girl struggling to keep at his side, "But I had forgotten how long it has been since Obi-Wan last ate. Low blood sugar is not an issue to be taken lightly. We shouldn't keep them waiting." Nara sputtered, now at the man's side, but hard-pressed to remain there, "Y- yes, of course. I wouldn't dream of doing anything detrimental to the boy's health."
Soon they reached the small dining room - candles lit, four places set with the most exquisitely hand-painted cutlery on planet, and a small group of musicians strumming native instruments, setting the princess' desired mood, romantic, perfectly - but there was no sign that either Proxa or Obi-Wan had set foot in the chamber.
Qui-Gon sighed, past experiences had proven that searching for a missing padawan had proven difficult - at best, "Perhaps they are in Proxa's chambers?" Despite his suggested situation, the Jedi master did not once give backing to the thought that teenage hormones could overpower a lifetime of instruction. Such feelings of lust, while not forbidden - as no one could actually prevent their conception - were dangerous. Rather, attachments formed - for either party - as they posed to compromise a Jedi's ability to complete assignments, were forbidden. Obi-Wan knew this, and respected the reasoning behind it.
Nara, apparently not holding as much faith in the padawan, whistled quietly, "A new palace record."
* * *
//Run, I have to run!
Can't stop, she's coming. She can't have me if she can't catch me.
I'm not safe here, no one knows - only her.
Only her.
No, I won't let her take me. She can't have me if I just say no. That's what I'll do.and I'll be safe.
Oh, Force! There she is! How did she get here? She won't leave me alone!
Tell her.Tell her, now! She can't have you.
Why is she laughing? This isn't funny. She can't take me, I won't let her.It will never happen.
She stopped; she knows. No! What is she doing? Put it down! Put it DOWN!
A flash of blue and the singed air envelopes me. NO! Why did she do that? The pain.Oh, how it hurts! Please, no! Oh Force, please!
And all is numb.
The sun rises.what is that old saying?
Pink sky tonight, sailor's delight.pink sky in morn, sailors be warn.
And darkness descends.//
Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered and a cool hand stroked his face - barely touching, but enough to pull the Jedi from his drug-induced slumber. His lashes parted, revealing the merest sliver of the whites beneath, as his brain reactivated itself, attempting to push the warm mist infesting his mind far into its depths, content to deal with it later.
What happened? The fog had wormed its way into the tiniest crevices of his head, leaving all everything - cloudy. Nothing had been taken by it, only.obscured. He remembered the palace.the princess.the darkness.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, willing his thoughts to clear. No, that wasn't a memory. That was a.what was it? A dream? A vision? If only he could think!
The padawan groaned and dragged his lead-heavy eyelids open. The lights in the room - yes, it was a room - were dim, but painful nonetheless. A cursory glance revealed little. He was in a small bedchamber, simply furnished with one coarse, wooden dresser with a small mirror attached, and, of course, the bed he was lying on, which was directly across from the bureau.
Obi-Wan focused on the reflection glaring back at him, barely discernable due to lack of illumination. His still-numb body stiffened slightly, muscles - at the moment rendered useless - coiled as he slowly, for that was the top speed he could manage, turned from his back onto his side, his neck straining against the small pile of pillows his head had been laid on.
She was there.
She was there, and she was staring at him, her head propped by a bent arm, her brown eyes piercing into his, her hair fanned out on the pillow, cascading down her chest and over the gown. She lifted a hand, touching it lightly to Obi-Wan's soft spikes, smoothing his hair, then, with a single finger, tracing down his jaw-line, before finally resting it softly on his smooth cheek.
He tried to speak; tried to ask her what she was doing, what she wanted, but his tongue seemed ill-fit for talking, and designed for choking. He sputtered reflexively, incoherently gurgling the questions his brain screamed for answers to.
"Hush, my Sweet," her words meant to soothe, but resulting in renewed choking and gagging. "All will be well, I promise. I am here."
Obi-Wan struggled desperately against whatever substance was holding him down, ordering arms to push his body up and his legs to swing off the side of the bed, but neither complied. His body jerked spasmodically in response, certain areas of the muscles trying to follow directions while the rest remained unfeeling.
Proxa hushed him, stroking his face and petting his hair, attempting to calm him, but only further agitating the apprentice. She pulled herself from the bed - where she had been kneeling over Obi-Wan, now lying on his back again - and ran over to the dresser, yanking open the top, right drawer. She snatched a hypo from its depths and rushed back to the bed, beside Obi-Wan.
"Sleep, my Love," the small device found its way to the boy's tender neck and, for the second time in as many hours, Obi-Wan was plunged back into the unconscious.
Proxa leaned over him, placing a gentle kiss on his slack lips, "Sleep well."
* * *
As always, be a good lil Jedi and review. :D
* * *
"Oh, I feel just awful about your pocket chrono!"
Nara waved her hand impatiently at the guard on duty, silent indication - he could only assume - for the gate to be opened, allowing for the admittance of both her - and the Jedi Her Highness was most unceremoniously clinging to.
The doors parted and the pair passed through the twisted gold archway, finding themselves on the narrow garden path for the second time that day, this time lacking their two companions.
"Your Majesty, I have already forgiven you," Qui-Gon replied, his voice without a trace of the exasperation churning inside him, "twice."
"I know." Her crimson lips pulled into a slight frown, "It's just that it was, after all, my fault that it fell in the water."
No, Qui-Gon thought, it was my fault for allowing you to take it.
The two were standing at the side of a beautifully ornate fountain - a fountain whose splendor was not lost to the Jedi master, though with detail present in Nara's narrative one might have thought he had never seen water before. As the princess began her third circle of the small pool, his hand slowly slipped down to the pocket of his robe - no sudden movements, so as not to draw her attention - and carefully drew from the cloth a small, brass chrono. One glance and it was safely back in the depths of his pocket. The glance, however, was not quick enough to escape the eye of the infatuated.
Nara hastily finished her journey round the fountain, positioning herself on the edge closest to Qui-Gon and beckoning him to sit with her. She danced around the subject of the chrono before pointblank asking to see it.
'It's charmingly rugged,' she had said, 'Just like you.'
He's patience soon wore thin as the princess' fascination with the rudimentary time-telling device bordered on absurd. However, her final question - is it waterproof? - to which he answered negatively, found the chrono sinking to the shallow bottom of the fountain bed and Nara cursing her application of lotion - rubbed on a mere six hours prior.
Now, the princess allowed the master to guide her through the winding path, as if she had never laid eyes on its beaten walkway before. "And to make matters worse, we are now late for our dinner." Using her free hand - the one not clutching Qui-Gon's robe - she pulled a stray curl from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, "I'm sure Proxa has your apprentice suitably entertained."
Qui-Gon, far from dumb to the meaning behind her words, sped up his pace. "I am sorry, Your Highness," he spoke to the young girl struggling to keep at his side, "But I had forgotten how long it has been since Obi-Wan last ate. Low blood sugar is not an issue to be taken lightly. We shouldn't keep them waiting." Nara sputtered, now at the man's side, but hard-pressed to remain there, "Y- yes, of course. I wouldn't dream of doing anything detrimental to the boy's health."
Soon they reached the small dining room - candles lit, four places set with the most exquisitely hand-painted cutlery on planet, and a small group of musicians strumming native instruments, setting the princess' desired mood, romantic, perfectly - but there was no sign that either Proxa or Obi-Wan had set foot in the chamber.
Qui-Gon sighed, past experiences had proven that searching for a missing padawan had proven difficult - at best, "Perhaps they are in Proxa's chambers?" Despite his suggested situation, the Jedi master did not once give backing to the thought that teenage hormones could overpower a lifetime of instruction. Such feelings of lust, while not forbidden - as no one could actually prevent their conception - were dangerous. Rather, attachments formed - for either party - as they posed to compromise a Jedi's ability to complete assignments, were forbidden. Obi-Wan knew this, and respected the reasoning behind it.
Nara, apparently not holding as much faith in the padawan, whistled quietly, "A new palace record."
* * *
//Run, I have to run!
Can't stop, she's coming. She can't have me if she can't catch me.
I'm not safe here, no one knows - only her.
Only her.
No, I won't let her take me. She can't have me if I just say no. That's what I'll do.and I'll be safe.
Oh, Force! There she is! How did she get here? She won't leave me alone!
Tell her.Tell her, now! She can't have you.
Why is she laughing? This isn't funny. She can't take me, I won't let her.It will never happen.
She stopped; she knows. No! What is she doing? Put it down! Put it DOWN!
A flash of blue and the singed air envelopes me. NO! Why did she do that? The pain.Oh, how it hurts! Please, no! Oh Force, please!
And all is numb.
The sun rises.what is that old saying?
Pink sky tonight, sailor's delight.pink sky in morn, sailors be warn.
And darkness descends.//
Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered and a cool hand stroked his face - barely touching, but enough to pull the Jedi from his drug-induced slumber. His lashes parted, revealing the merest sliver of the whites beneath, as his brain reactivated itself, attempting to push the warm mist infesting his mind far into its depths, content to deal with it later.
What happened? The fog had wormed its way into the tiniest crevices of his head, leaving all everything - cloudy. Nothing had been taken by it, only.obscured. He remembered the palace.the princess.the darkness.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, willing his thoughts to clear. No, that wasn't a memory. That was a.what was it? A dream? A vision? If only he could think!
The padawan groaned and dragged his lead-heavy eyelids open. The lights in the room - yes, it was a room - were dim, but painful nonetheless. A cursory glance revealed little. He was in a small bedchamber, simply furnished with one coarse, wooden dresser with a small mirror attached, and, of course, the bed he was lying on, which was directly across from the bureau.
Obi-Wan focused on the reflection glaring back at him, barely discernable due to lack of illumination. His still-numb body stiffened slightly, muscles - at the moment rendered useless - coiled as he slowly, for that was the top speed he could manage, turned from his back onto his side, his neck straining against the small pile of pillows his head had been laid on.
She was there.
She was there, and she was staring at him, her head propped by a bent arm, her brown eyes piercing into his, her hair fanned out on the pillow, cascading down her chest and over the gown. She lifted a hand, touching it lightly to Obi-Wan's soft spikes, smoothing his hair, then, with a single finger, tracing down his jaw-line, before finally resting it softly on his smooth cheek.
He tried to speak; tried to ask her what she was doing, what she wanted, but his tongue seemed ill-fit for talking, and designed for choking. He sputtered reflexively, incoherently gurgling the questions his brain screamed for answers to.
"Hush, my Sweet," her words meant to soothe, but resulting in renewed choking and gagging. "All will be well, I promise. I am here."
Obi-Wan struggled desperately against whatever substance was holding him down, ordering arms to push his body up and his legs to swing off the side of the bed, but neither complied. His body jerked spasmodically in response, certain areas of the muscles trying to follow directions while the rest remained unfeeling.
Proxa hushed him, stroking his face and petting his hair, attempting to calm him, but only further agitating the apprentice. She pulled herself from the bed - where she had been kneeling over Obi-Wan, now lying on his back again - and ran over to the dresser, yanking open the top, right drawer. She snatched a hypo from its depths and rushed back to the bed, beside Obi-Wan.
"Sleep, my Love," the small device found its way to the boy's tender neck and, for the second time in as many hours, Obi-Wan was plunged back into the unconscious.
Proxa leaned over him, placing a gentle kiss on his slack lips, "Sleep well."
* * *
As always, be a good lil Jedi and review. :D