Solitude wasn't a life Obi-Wan was built for.

Forced solitude was even worse.

Tatooine was dry and dusty and a far cry from the temple that he had called his home. It was nothing more than a desolate rock of sand and sun that provided him no help in making sense of the world that shattered around him.

Time had been simultaneously at a crawl and yet flying by. He was loosing track of how many days had come and gone, but also felt like no time had passed at all. Everything felt so far away and so close to home all at once.

He tried to keep himself busy, mostly to keep his demons at bay. There were days when it all became too much and he felt himself collapsing in his grief. If he didn't force himself to keep going, he knows he would drown in his regrets.

So he meditated for hours at a time, trying to keep himself connected with the force and with the spirit of his former master. Qui-Gon was one of the few things keeping him sane, even if he was more or less talking to a ghost. It's how everyone felt to him now; merely ghosts wandering through the crevices of his mind.

He would watch Luke - who was barely able to walk let alone train - from afar, hoping that he could protect him from whatever dangers lurking in the galaxy despite how much Owen disliked him. The boy was owed that much.

Beyond that, he busied himself with maintaining the hut that had now become his home. It was small and cramped, but it was a roof over his head and a place to hide from whomever was out there searching for him. It wasn't much, but then, he didn't have much else left.

The Jundland wastelands was no easy feat to cross. If he were to embark on a journey for supplies it was an all day affair, one of which he would have to secure his Eopie for, which at times turned out to be quite trying. They could be stubborn creatures, and it was more often than not a gamble as to whether his would comply.

Luckily, his didn't put up much of a fight when he took off for the Mos Espa that morning. He'd been running low on supplies for longer than he'd like to admit and had been neglecting the trip.

The market was loud and a bit overwhelming after spending weeks in silence, but the noise was almost enough to drown out the thoughts that continued to race through his mind at all times. Mostly of Anakin and Padme, and how he had managed to fail them both.

"Seven credits each."

He had been staring intently at a container of Boontaspice, debating whether it would be word shelling out the credits for something that wasn't a necessity. Then again, there were very few things he took pleasure in these days, and he can't help but know that it's the same spice used at Dex's. And if he were to be exiled to the desert for years to come, he may as well have something to choke down his food with.

"Seven is a little steep." He says, glancing up at the Roodian trader.

"I can make it eight."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes before looking back down at the spices. He really didn't need them, but the food he knew how to prepare was bland at best and trying in flavor at it's worst.

"Five." He counters, "And I'll buy three."

The Roodian huffs, clearly irritated with the bartering, but Obi-Wan wasn't keen on spending more than they were worth.

"Six." The trader settles on, thrusting out his hand.

Obi-Wan was about to counter again with his offer of five when he felt something that made him freeze all together.

It's wasn't a disturbance, per say. More like...a memory. A distant one. Something so far yet so familiar.

"You buying or what?" Grunted the trader.

He blinks, pulling himself back to reality and suddenly he didn't care about haggling prices, he simply handed over the 18 credits and scooped up his goods, barely remembering to mumble a thank you.

It was mid afternoon, the busiest time for the market and he found himself entrapped within a sea of people. The sensation was still there, buzzing inside of him, but he couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from. There was too much going on around him to focus.

Even though he was in the middle of a crowd, he stops and closes his eyes. He needed to focus; to identify if this was a friend or foe, or perhaps neither.

He inhales deeply and holds the air in his lungs, trying to tune out everything around him an hone in on the presence.

Where are you, he thinks to himself.

He feels it then, coming closer, and he's almost about to pinpoint it's direction-

But then someone clips his shoulder with their own as they hurry past, and his concentration is broken.

And just like that, the presence is gone.

"Damn." He mutters before composing himself.

The rest of his trip passed without incident while he gathered supplies. Dried meats and dehydrated fruits, parts he may need in the future for his hut. He was trying to keep himself in the shadows as much as possible, and the less he would have to visit the market in the future, the better.

One glance at the sky told him that the afternoon suns were about to begin their phase into evening, and he knew if he didn't leave now he would find himself trekking through the desert in the dark, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He was just nearing the edge of the settlement when suddenly the presence from before hits him full force again.

Before he has the chance to react, someone grabs on to his arm tightly and yanks him backwards into an alley.

"What-" He starts to say, but the person pushes him almost roughly against one of the outer walls of the settlement and clasps a hand over his mouth.

"Hush." They breathe into his ear, "You have to be quiet."

It's only when his vision settles that he is able to focus on the person in front of him, and the moment he looks into their eyes does he finally know why he recognized the mysterious presence.

Satine.