loryn wilde
Timeframe: Obi-Wan is 18
Archive: Please ask.
All the Young Dudes
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon addressed his student once they were alone in their assigned quarters, "Would you please explain to me what is making you so apprehensive? You're clearly agitated by something and it's giving me a headache."
The padawan grimaced and collapsed onto a plush sofa. "I'm not nervous, Master."
The elder Jedi snorted and wagged a finger at his apprentice before shucking off his robe and hanging it neatly on a peg. "You are so. Have been, actually, ever since the minister and his son greeted us in the hanger."
A look of worry fluttered and lightly distorted the eighteen-year-old's face, alerting Qui-Gon to the nearness of the response he sought.
"It is far too simple a matter of reading you, Obi-Wan," he chastised gently with a smile before crossing the room to tower over the seated young man. "What is it about the minister that troubles you? I have sensed nothing but good intentions."
Obi-Wan was quick to assure, "Oh, no, Master! It's not that at all. The minister appears to be a fine man, I agree." He swallowed to buy time. "It's just that…" He trailed off, allowing his gaze to drift to a brightly colored mosaic decorating the far wall.
A crease appeared on Qui-Gon's brow and he knelt before the sofa, eyes narrowing with concern. "Obi-Wan?" he prompted softly. He sent a faint query through their bond – wordless and simple – and was met with a tangle of jittery nerves from his apprentice. He stared hard the wandering blue- gray eyes, now dark with unease.
Obi-Wan met his master's gaze finally and he seemed lost amid the many unvoiced questions etched into the lines of tension now apparent on his face. The familiar crinkle of worry was present between his brows.
Obi-Wan did not work himself up like this over nothing. Qui-Gon's heart began to pound loudly in his chest, ready to burst against the restraining cage of his ribs.
"Padawan, please," he begged plaintively.
Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to his lap. "It's not the minister," he began to explain quietly, "It's his – his son."
"Bowie?" Qui-Gon clarified, and was startled to find that he was gripping his padawan's arms tightly. He did not let go. A million thoughts of familial treachery raced through his mind.
Obi-Wan nodded, squirming uncomfortably under his master's hold and stare. "He – well… I saw – "
"What did you see, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon questioned, his voice a hoarse whisper fringed with desperation. What had his padawan seen that he had not? What could be so terrible to make Obi-Wan so anxious? What…
"He wears eye makeup, Master!" Obi-Wan blurted out suddenly.
The master jerked back, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
"What?!" Incredulous, disbelieving. Relieved.
Obi-Wan nodded vehemently. "Makeup! I know! On his eyes – it's black um, well – I guess that it's called eyeliner. Not that I would know or anything."
"Obi-Wan!" Dumbfounded.
"Master, I'm not judging him! Bowie seemed to be very kind. He even offered to show me the yearly festival that is held here. I'm not judging, I'm just *saying* – "
"Obi-Wan!" It was all Qui-Gon could say for a long moment as his heartbeat winded down, eased its frantic pounding. He stared at the boy in front of him, working his jaw.
Bewildered.
"Obi-Wan." He released his grip on the padawan's arms and raked his fingers through his hair, releasing a long, slow breath.
Yes, Bowie wore makeup. Qui-Gon had not failed to notice. It glittered. Very difficult to miss. The minister's son was a slim boy with curling, wispy golden hair and wide pale blue eyes, full pink lips. He was outgoing and, from what Qui-Gon gathered at their initial encounter with him, very friendly.
Slowly, almost cautiously, with a deep and long suffering sigh, Qui-Gon hoisted himself up onto the sofa to sit beside his confused padawan. He clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, master?" Wide blue gray eyes rose to meet him. Qui-Gon took a moment to regard the youth. Young Obi-Wan. Innocent Obi-Wan.
"You've been my padawan for some time now – "
"Five years," the boy supplied helpfully.
"Yes. Thank you. Five years. Doubtless, you've encountered a multitude of diverse cultures in that time – "
"One hundred ninety seven."
"Ah. Yes." Qui-Gon threw the boy an odd look and removed his hand. "I'm sure."
Breathe deeply, Jinn.
"You have always met even the most – exotic – of these cultures with much grace."
"Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome," he responded sharply, his patience quickly thinning with the continued interruptions. "You cannot let yourself be put off by a boy in glittering eye makeup, Padawan. It may appear strange to you, even a little unnatural, but to him *you* may appear strange and unnatural by not wearing the – " He paused, closed his eyes briefly. "Glittering eye makeup."
"Strange, Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan. Strange. Do you understand?"
The padawan blinked. "Master – please excuse me for saying – but I believe *you've* misunderstood *me*."
Qui-Gon gaped at the youth. "Then what – "
"I don't think it's strange at all. Rather clever, actually."
"Obi-Wan – ?" Qui-Gon was flabbergasted.
"I want to try it!"
A strange gurgling noise escaped the master's throat.
Obi-Wan's face scrunched up in worry again. "Oh, Master. Would you mind terribly? I won't keep it long, I probably won't even like it." He paused thoughtfully. "But on the off chance that I do – "
Qui-Gon clapped his hand over the boy's mouth.
the end
:oP
Timeframe: Obi-Wan is 18
Archive: Please ask.
All the Young Dudes
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon addressed his student once they were alone in their assigned quarters, "Would you please explain to me what is making you so apprehensive? You're clearly agitated by something and it's giving me a headache."
The padawan grimaced and collapsed onto a plush sofa. "I'm not nervous, Master."
The elder Jedi snorted and wagged a finger at his apprentice before shucking off his robe and hanging it neatly on a peg. "You are so. Have been, actually, ever since the minister and his son greeted us in the hanger."
A look of worry fluttered and lightly distorted the eighteen-year-old's face, alerting Qui-Gon to the nearness of the response he sought.
"It is far too simple a matter of reading you, Obi-Wan," he chastised gently with a smile before crossing the room to tower over the seated young man. "What is it about the minister that troubles you? I have sensed nothing but good intentions."
Obi-Wan was quick to assure, "Oh, no, Master! It's not that at all. The minister appears to be a fine man, I agree." He swallowed to buy time. "It's just that…" He trailed off, allowing his gaze to drift to a brightly colored mosaic decorating the far wall.
A crease appeared on Qui-Gon's brow and he knelt before the sofa, eyes narrowing with concern. "Obi-Wan?" he prompted softly. He sent a faint query through their bond – wordless and simple – and was met with a tangle of jittery nerves from his apprentice. He stared hard the wandering blue- gray eyes, now dark with unease.
Obi-Wan met his master's gaze finally and he seemed lost amid the many unvoiced questions etched into the lines of tension now apparent on his face. The familiar crinkle of worry was present between his brows.
Obi-Wan did not work himself up like this over nothing. Qui-Gon's heart began to pound loudly in his chest, ready to burst against the restraining cage of his ribs.
"Padawan, please," he begged plaintively.
Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to his lap. "It's not the minister," he began to explain quietly, "It's his – his son."
"Bowie?" Qui-Gon clarified, and was startled to find that he was gripping his padawan's arms tightly. He did not let go. A million thoughts of familial treachery raced through his mind.
Obi-Wan nodded, squirming uncomfortably under his master's hold and stare. "He – well… I saw – "
"What did you see, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon questioned, his voice a hoarse whisper fringed with desperation. What had his padawan seen that he had not? What could be so terrible to make Obi-Wan so anxious? What…
"He wears eye makeup, Master!" Obi-Wan blurted out suddenly.
The master jerked back, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
"What?!" Incredulous, disbelieving. Relieved.
Obi-Wan nodded vehemently. "Makeup! I know! On his eyes – it's black um, well – I guess that it's called eyeliner. Not that I would know or anything."
"Obi-Wan!" Dumbfounded.
"Master, I'm not judging him! Bowie seemed to be very kind. He even offered to show me the yearly festival that is held here. I'm not judging, I'm just *saying* – "
"Obi-Wan!" It was all Qui-Gon could say for a long moment as his heartbeat winded down, eased its frantic pounding. He stared at the boy in front of him, working his jaw.
Bewildered.
"Obi-Wan." He released his grip on the padawan's arms and raked his fingers through his hair, releasing a long, slow breath.
Yes, Bowie wore makeup. Qui-Gon had not failed to notice. It glittered. Very difficult to miss. The minister's son was a slim boy with curling, wispy golden hair and wide pale blue eyes, full pink lips. He was outgoing and, from what Qui-Gon gathered at their initial encounter with him, very friendly.
Slowly, almost cautiously, with a deep and long suffering sigh, Qui-Gon hoisted himself up onto the sofa to sit beside his confused padawan. He clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, master?" Wide blue gray eyes rose to meet him. Qui-Gon took a moment to regard the youth. Young Obi-Wan. Innocent Obi-Wan.
"You've been my padawan for some time now – "
"Five years," the boy supplied helpfully.
"Yes. Thank you. Five years. Doubtless, you've encountered a multitude of diverse cultures in that time – "
"One hundred ninety seven."
"Ah. Yes." Qui-Gon threw the boy an odd look and removed his hand. "I'm sure."
Breathe deeply, Jinn.
"You have always met even the most – exotic – of these cultures with much grace."
"Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome," he responded sharply, his patience quickly thinning with the continued interruptions. "You cannot let yourself be put off by a boy in glittering eye makeup, Padawan. It may appear strange to you, even a little unnatural, but to him *you* may appear strange and unnatural by not wearing the – " He paused, closed his eyes briefly. "Glittering eye makeup."
"Strange, Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan. Strange. Do you understand?"
The padawan blinked. "Master – please excuse me for saying – but I believe *you've* misunderstood *me*."
Qui-Gon gaped at the youth. "Then what – "
"I don't think it's strange at all. Rather clever, actually."
"Obi-Wan – ?" Qui-Gon was flabbergasted.
"I want to try it!"
A strange gurgling noise escaped the master's throat.
Obi-Wan's face scrunched up in worry again. "Oh, Master. Would you mind terribly? I won't keep it long, I probably won't even like it." He paused thoughtfully. "But on the off chance that I do – "
Qui-Gon clapped his hand over the boy's mouth.
the end
:oP