lucetilogs | EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY!

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EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY!

Who: Everybody! Everybody!
What: It's a beach! There's fruit! Love in the air! Classy private rooms in the mountains!
When: From sunrise to midnight! (AND IT'S TODAY! FEBRUARY 18th!)
Where: Out on the beach, centered around the teleporter/tunnel exit area. But it feels like July out there! Ain't that just the shit?
Summary: Summary? Why does this need a summary. I said everything up there. And then I'm gonna say even more after this. Why do we need this field? Seriously, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Rating: KEEP IT CLEAN, KIDS. Take your dirty smut to an appointments post!

Long Ago In A Distant Land, Akai, the fully functional fonbot, unleashed a fairly standard mod post. But a foolish player kept asking questions and come on, do you really need to know that much? Now everyone wants to play out their ships and get into fruit shenanigans and undo to evil that is AKAI.

((No, but seriously guys, look at the mod post, you know what to do. Everything you need is there. Mass log post, remember to tag your characters name here, and do your thing.))

OH YEAH! So like, assume there is stands (or you know, beach-appropriate huts) here and there that are stocked up on bathing suits (and curtains you can change behind), stands with beverages, and snacks. Nobody's really operating them, new stuff just gets Shifted there (BUT ONLY IF YOU'RE NOT WATCHING). The Malnosso are the most considerate bro-ginization ever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Even with the absence of his robes Adele is very nearly ready to step closer and rest her cheek on that curve. It was still Ben, he was still comforting. Safe. It wouldn't be so bad...

oh. Right. That.

She clears her throat and looks away, taking a half step back. Jedi. Celibate. Ben. A Ben, his own Ben, not her Ben, no matter how much Lupin might say it. And if even with the fruit he wants none of it, of course he wants none of it, she was a friend. A student. That was all, and with that she should be, and is, content. It was this damn fruit.]

I have. It's nothing I cannot ignore. [No, she hasn't withdrawn, no her wings aren't flat up against her spine and no she's not busy studying the carpet in the far corner. Whatever are you thinking Ben?]

"... So it is not just me, then. They are becoming something of a... distraction..."

[He falters as he feels the sudden surge of disappointment, and for a moment, he hates himself.]

"I... had not meant that as a criticism."

[For a man known in his own world as The Negotiator, he certainly had a remarkable talent for putting his foot in his mouth when he was speaking to her.]

"I'm sorry."

[A distraction. That makes her flinch. Trophy wife, arm candy. A name to get somewhere in the business and nothing more. Distraction summed up her marriage with Robert very, very well. She manages to keep her fists from clenching. Obi-Wan didn't mean it like that. Well. He might. How would she know?

She shakes her head at the denial, the apology, and turns to start some coals in the stove. Tea. Tea was...ritualistic, like coffee. Something to do with her hands, something to distract her.]

It's nothing I haven't heard before Obi-Wan. One becomes accustomed to it after a few years.

[The pain doesn't lessen. If anything it intensifies. It is all he can do not to hold her right there. In that moment, he thinks perhaps he might do anything to make her happy. He knows it's not logical, perhaps not even real, but right now he doesn't care.

But when she turns away and dismisses his complaint, with such resignation, it breaks his heart. As if she were not only used to it, but had even come to accept it as only right for her to be alone. He doesn't hold her, much as he wants to, but he can't stop himself from resting his hand on her shoulder again.]

...it might be better if you didn't, Obi-Wan. [She reaches up to rest her slim hand on top of his, letting it sit there for a moment. Just one, that's all she could bear before she squeezes it and lifts his hand off, letting go so she could focus on the tea. She'd hate to continue to be a distraction. To anyone.

The coals were heating quickly enough, and there was even a pitcher of water set up next to the tea kettle. She pours it in, resting the kettle over the stove and flips through the box of teas available. Repress and ignore. Even if he could tell, she didn't care. She was not going to show any of this, this resignation, this acceptance, this bone deep yearning for someone to show that they give a damn about her as a woman on her face.

Obi-Wan was welcome to call her on it. He most likely would. But she is not dropping the mask this time.]

[He felt his own pain as she forced herself to reject the hand- he could feel the reluctance, and her own pain, and it was so deep he wasn't sure how to sort out where his pain ended and hers began. He had only felt that one other time, but then he had been on the opposite end of a saber duel. This was not like that. There was no hostility, no reason for this to end in another of Obi-Wan's many staggering failures.]

"... Better for whom, I wonder?"

You. You do not get to be passive aggressive Obi-Wan.

[Her voice is curt, low and sharp and he didn't deserve that. He didn't. She sighs and bites her lip, eyes narrowed as she waits for the kettle to boil. Tea. If she could will it done, she would have by now.]

...Just. Sit. Over there. Distance helps. [Her life's mantra, as it were. Distance helps. Distance yourself from the situation, distance yourself from others. From life. Focus on work, focus on what needs to be mended in front of you, and to hell with the bridges you burnt.]

[This bridge, madame, happens to be made of sterner, more flame-retardant stuff.]

"It was a serious question, Adele, and I was not being passive-aggressive. I cannot see how it would be better for you, and I certainly hope that you do not believe it would be better for me."

...I'm sorry. It. Was a reflex. You are not married and share you life with someone for over a decade without certain things becoming instinctive.

[The kettle was taking it's sweet time to heat and boil. Bored with the visual she looks out instead, to the ocean. Her back remains to Obi-Wan.]

It's better for me because I should not want this. It's better for you because you shouldn't either. A Jedi does not know love, attachments are dangerous...you don't want me Obi-Wan. Not really. Trust me on this. [Less bitter, now. More resigned. This was her life, and she was accustomed to it. She wasn't content. She wasn't happy. But she didn't need to be.]

"... And yet you are in pain."

[And I caused it.]

Life is pain. Anyone telling you otherwise is selling something.

It's chronic, it's inescapable, and it lasts until you are done...and it's nothing I'm not already accustomed to.

"It is none of those things, Adele, and the fact that you believe it is, so sincerely, pains me more than you will ever understand."

[Look at me, blast it...]

"It is not pain, it is all experiences, and no one of them nullifies the worth of the others. It is not chronic, it is continuous, and goes on long after the pain or pleasure of one moment or even one lifetime is gone. It is not inescapable because all that lies beyond it is either oblivion or another form of life. And it does not last until you are done, it lasts long after your own identity is finished processing. It is not pain. It is beautiful for its ephemeral nature, its mercurial shifts and changes."

[Please. Please, look at me.]

"Everything here, Adele... you, me, pain and happiness, the shifts and the fruit and that cut on your hand, they change. They fade. Clinging to your pain will only prolong it."

When I have yet to be proven otherwise, how can I think any different? This is my life- and not even that anymore! That was my life Obi-Wan. Every last bit of it. And it's exactly what I'm to go back to!

[She turns then, glaring up at him, eyes wet and teeth grit. Shaking all over, fists clenched, wings tight against her back, equal parts pained, furious, and utterly miserable.] You think I cling to this? You think I enjoy this?!

[She stands, pushing her hands through her hair, fingers scraping at her own scalp for some sort of grounding amidst all this mess.]

"... Adele, you're going back to your own death. You have said that yourself. That isn't your life any longer. This place, this reality, is all that remains to you, since you do not believe in any meaningful existence following your demise."

[He forces himself to keep talking. He still wishes he could simply hold her, could shelter her from this pain physically, but he knows that's just that blasted fruit talking, and he knows it. So he keeps talking, keeps telling her what he feels she needs to hear, as blunt and as harsh as it may be. He was running out of ways to get through to her.]

"You do not need to enjoy a thing to cling to it, but this, this has become a defense mechanism for you. You simply retract and pretend you feel nothing because you think it is the only way to avoid the pain, by ignoring it. It will never work, Adele. You are in this world now, and if what you say is true, it is the only one that remains to you. And yes, your fate is awful, and yes, if I could give anything to change it, to make it just again, I would. But I cannot. There are things we cannot change, Adele, and things that we can."

[He may be tearing up a bit at this point, but he subdues the tension in his voice.]

"You, for example. You can accept that this world is shifting, and unstable, and that you will have to adjust to that in order to find peace, or you cannot. You cannot make this world stable. All you can do is alter how you perceive it. You can accept that this world will test your emotions, will bring out the worst in you in many ways, or you can't. You cannot change the fact that this place will test your emotions. All you can do is learn to cope with the strain."

[He pauses a moment.]

"You can accept that I wish to help you, that I and many other people care about you, and wish for you to be happy, or you can continue to insist that life is nothing but pain. You cannot make us cease to care simply be believing it does not matter. All you can do is decide whether to allow us to help."

[She can't change any of this. She can't change that the Malnosso, that this place has twice made her feel things she did not wish to, that the weather is variable, that people she trusts and respect vanish without a trace. That people are kidnapped, that this place, her own personal little hell, is mercurial and manned by vicious and amoral scientists. It frustrates her. It pains her, it burns her because she should be able to do something. Anything to steel herself against this manipulation. She shouldn't have to endure this, she shouldn't have to be here, and at this point she had a black, terribly resolute thought.

Going back to die might be easier than this. Never coming here, just...bleeding out as she should have, that would have been easier. Death was terribly simple. Irrevocable. And easy. Life, pain or not, was difficult. And she was tired. Of adjusting, of repressing, of flinching, of being made to feel things she did not wish to. For a heartbeat, she wished to be back in that bloody room, revolver in hand, if only to know for certain that she's pulled the trigger and could die, if not happy, somewhat vindicated by her actions.

It passes, as do the rest of her thoughts. She's brought out of it by the kettle and, grateful for the distraction, she folds a towel to lift it and pout the hot water in the pot and in their teacups, warming them. After all of this? She wants something bitter. Sweet has never suited her or her family.

For a moment she's kneeling at the stove, one hand on the handle of the kettle, just...trying to absorb. Everything.

This is what is. This is what cannot be changed. This is what you can do. This is what you cannot. Adele pares everything down into these categories as she did in surgery, sparing a moment to compartmentalize her thoughts, her time here. She is very still, very quiet, head bowed as she finally sets this aside. It can't be changed. Ignoring it hurts. And above all else she is tired of carrying this around. She scrubs her face with her hands, trying to find her center, listening to the ocean as she had earlier, with Luke. In and out with the waves. Like she had with her father, like she had as a child.]

[For a moment, Obi-Wan is simply still, feeling the emotions as they run through her. Finally, he speaks.]

"... Would you like me to leave?"

Yes, because leaving a woman in emotional turmoil that just experienced a foolish and suicidal thought is such a smart thing to do. [It wasn't as snide as it could have been, more exhausted than anything. Adele took a little longer to breathe before dropping her hands to look at Obi-Wan.]

You're a bastard. I just think you should know that. The most polite and friendly bastard I have ever met Ben.

Edited 2012-02-20 08:05 (UTC)

"I wished the decision to be yours. That is all."

[He meets her gaze. Somehow it seemed so much more breathtaking before, but there was one thing he could not deny regardless of the shift: She did have attractive eyes, and more significantly, expressive eyes. For all that she tried to be reserved and stoic, on the few occasions she did display her emotions it was always more sincere for the eyes, and now the pain he saw in them was staggering.]

"Why am I a bastard, Adele? Do not repress, do not stifle it. Express it. Come to terms with it."

Come to terms with you being a bastard? [She shakes her head and huffs a laugh, massaging the bridge of her nose.]

I have no choice but to do so. It is either come to terms with it, or terminate our association entirely. And even without this shift, and without this fruit? I do not think I would be able to. I'm much too selfish Ben, I'm certain you've noticed by now.

"... I had meant to come to terms with whatever emotional response leads you to call me one. That said, I do not believe you are selfish for wanting a friend who has thus far tried, if with limited success, to help you."

[Limited success. No success, he thinks to himself.

Self-pity. He really needs to stop that. This is about her.]

I call you that because you are, in fact, a bastard. You say what needs to be said without reservation. You are harsh, and you are blunt, and then you smile afterward and offer to leave me in peace. Ergo: you are a polite, friendly bastard. It is more logic than it is lingering echos of that...[She waves a hand over her shoulder at where she'd knelt, all but weeping earlier.]

Breakdown. Well. Not quite. Breakthrough? Something here has broken. For the better, I dare to hope-

...[She blinks, looks back down at the teapot, and then over to Ben in surprise.]

You utter bastard. You. You're making me hope. [For what, it didn't matter. The fact that she had any at all was nothing short of a miracle. Her voice is two parts incredulous and one part joyful. This was...something she hasn't had in over two decades.]

Edited 2012-02-20 08:24 (UTC)

"The phrase 'polite, friendly bastard' would indicate that being polite and friendly are simply a veneer over what is truly an unpleasant or untrustworthy person. I do hope you don't believe me insincere."

[He smiles, though it's a bit weakly.]

"And I did not make you hope. I have simply shown you a reason to hope."

Ben, you are many things. Insincere has never, and will never, be one of them.

[She sits back on her heels, still more than a little stunned by her mini revelation. Hope. She hopes. For improvement, for centering. For peace. For things she has been convinced, for decades, she did not deserve and now...she has hope.

It's a small thing, what she does next, but still significant. She flips through the teas available and instead of the black, bitter tea she pulls out two of the white. She dumps the water out of the teacups and sets the bags in the bottom, pouring water from the kettle in to steep.]

It is more than I have had in...since I was a child. Literal decades, Ben.

"Then it sounds to me like perhaps we have a bit of catching up to do."

[Assuming she let him help. Somehow he thought she would. His smile becomes a bit more firm with the return to his friendly snark.]

It died with my father, for the most part. [She lifts a shoulder, not at all certain it was something to be shared...but. Still, it would be relevant.]

He would find this hilarious. Growing up? He was my Obi-Wan. My guide, my mentor. It's a pop culture term from the films.

EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY!

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