[Star Wars] (Anakin, Ahsoka) Appearances
Anakin attempts a lesson. It doesn't really work out. PG. Mentions of Obi-wan, Padmé, Ferus, & Siri. Spoilers for both Ferus' fate at the end of Jedi Quest series and Siri's in Secrets of the Jedi. Also assumes knowledge of Jedi Quest: The Path to Truth. For 31_days.
Anakin walks in on Ahsoka putting on mascara.
“It’s waterproof, Master,” she says, smiling at him through the mirror. “Don’t worry.”
Anakin sees his face scowl up, and he moves to straighten it. Obi-wan always corrected with a bland expression, sometimes even a small smile, to let Anakin know that the chastisement was an attempt to teach.
“Jedi are not to adorn themselves,” he says, speaking from rote. “We need only the force.” He swallows down the bile that rises at that particular platitude. He tells himself Ahsoka is Temple bred, that Master Plo found her before that two-year cut-off, and that she will accept this far more easily than he.
Ahsoka turns to face him, and her expression is now devoid of any humour. “It is not for adornment, Master,” she says, earnestly, because Ahsoka does everything if not earnestly. “It is for remembrance.”
(And Anakin remembers another girl, long ago on Naboo, explaining her ceremonial make-up to a fascinated nine-year-old. It is for remembrance, Ani, she had said, as she painted the scar onto her lower lip.)
“Master Siri,” Anakin says.
Ahsoka nods up at him. “Yes.”
(After Ferus, Siri Tachi had never again taken a padawan, preferring to spend her time either on the most dangerous, reckless of missions or on crèche duty. Obi-wan had often commented, concerned as he was for his - if not oldest - closest friend.
Anakin can well imagine the younglings taking to her. He had always often daydreamed about the fun he would have had had he been Master Siri’s padawan, rather than that stick-in-the-swamp Ferus.)
“She wore mascara to remind herself of those years she had not been jedi,” Ahsoka continues.
“She was always jedi,” Anakin says.
“She didn’t always feel so.”
No, Anakin thinks, she probably didn’t.
(And he remembers Obi-wan’s visible disgust, not even bothering to hide it under the enigmatic mask of the jedi that Obi-wan wore so well. Remembers, too, the way Siri’s force-signature had deepened to allow Anakin to briefly - unintentionally - sink into it before cutting out, hiding. Because she must’ve counted on Obi-wan, her peer, her crèche mate, her almost love, being the one person to see beyond the visible.
And Anakin had made a private vow to himself: his master’s disappointment, while hard to bear, was infinitely preferable to that disgust. He had felt Siri’s emotions but briefly, and he never, ever wanted to feel that way again.)
“So she told us she wore this -“ Ahsoka holds up her little tube of mascara, before stowing it away in a belt pouch “-to remember that even jedi are influenced by external appearances, however much we believe otherwise.”
She gives a little shrug. “And so, after she...went back to the force, I started wearing it. To remind myself that she is still with us, even though I think she isn’t.”
Ahsoka is still looking up at him, as if he has all the answers to questions even he doesn’t even have the words to voice, and he wonders (again) why for all their supposed wisdom, the jedi are so ignorant.
(Padmé, the one time he asked her, said everyone was ignorant in matters of the human heart, but he had told her that was a politician’s answer, and that there must be - somewhere - something more concrete.)
“I miss Master Tachi, too,” he tells her at length. “But she gave her life for the Republic, and so we must honour her gift.”
Ahsoka doesn’t look satisfied with that, but then neither is he. It’s such a…Ferus thing to say. Such a jedi thing to say. And what can he say? That he’s sorry about Master Siri and that Obi-wan is still in love with her? Will always be in love with her? That he can’t help but be grateful (so eternally grateful) that it was Siri who died instead of Padmé on that stupid, stupid mission they never ought to have been sent on? That he feels so guilty about that because how can he even think that?
“She always said you reminded her of him, you know.” Ahsoka says, meaning he’s been broadcasting more than he intended through the force.
“Well,” he says, trying to keep all of himself from sliding through his cracks. “I was Master Obi-wan’s padawan.”
Surprise flickers across her face. It’s a bad habit for a jedi, and one he knows she picked up (or at least maintained) because of him. He wants to correct it, but to correct it he must be an example, and being an example always eludes him. Unless it’s an example of how not to do it.
“Not Master Obi-wan,” Ahsoka says with a little shake of her head. “Master Siri always said you reminded her of Former Padawan Olin.”
Anakin walks in on Ahsoka putting on mascara.
“It’s waterproof, Master,” she says, smiling at him through the mirror. “Don’t worry.”
Anakin sees his face scowl up, and he moves to straighten it. Obi-wan always corrected with a bland expression, sometimes even a small smile, to let Anakin know that the chastisement was an attempt to teach.
“Jedi are not to adorn themselves,” he says, speaking from rote. “We need only the force.” He swallows down the bile that rises at that particular platitude. He tells himself Ahsoka is Temple bred, that Master Plo found her before that two-year cut-off, and that she will accept this far more easily than he.
Ahsoka turns to face him, and her expression is now devoid of any humour. “It is not for adornment, Master,” she says, earnestly, because Ahsoka does everything if not earnestly. “It is for remembrance.”
(And Anakin remembers another girl, long ago on Naboo, explaining her ceremonial make-up to a fascinated nine-year-old. It is for remembrance, Ani, she had said, as she painted the scar onto her lower lip.)
“Master Siri,” Anakin says.
Ahsoka nods up at him. “Yes.”
(After Ferus, Siri Tachi had never again taken a padawan, preferring to spend her time either on the most dangerous, reckless of missions or on crèche duty. Obi-wan had often commented, concerned as he was for his - if not oldest - closest friend.
Anakin can well imagine the younglings taking to her. He had always often daydreamed about the fun he would have had had he been Master Siri’s padawan, rather than that stick-in-the-swamp Ferus.)
“She wore mascara to remind herself of those years she had not been jedi,” Ahsoka continues.
“She was always jedi,” Anakin says.
“She didn’t always feel so.”
No, Anakin thinks, she probably didn’t.
(And he remembers Obi-wan’s visible disgust, not even bothering to hide it under the enigmatic mask of the jedi that Obi-wan wore so well. Remembers, too, the way Siri’s force-signature had deepened to allow Anakin to briefly - unintentionally - sink into it before cutting out, hiding. Because she must’ve counted on Obi-wan, her peer, her crèche mate, her almost love, being the one person to see beyond the visible.
And Anakin had made a private vow to himself: his master’s disappointment, while hard to bear, was infinitely preferable to that disgust. He had felt Siri’s emotions but briefly, and he never, ever wanted to feel that way again.)
“So she told us she wore this -“ Ahsoka holds up her little tube of mascara, before stowing it away in a belt pouch “-to remember that even jedi are influenced by external appearances, however much we believe otherwise.”
She gives a little shrug. “And so, after she...went back to the force, I started wearing it. To remind myself that she is still with us, even though I think she isn’t.”
Ahsoka is still looking up at him, as if he has all the answers to questions even he doesn’t even have the words to voice, and he wonders (again) why for all their supposed wisdom, the jedi are so ignorant.
(Padmé, the one time he asked her, said everyone was ignorant in matters of the human heart, but he had told her that was a politician’s answer, and that there must be - somewhere - something more concrete.)
“I miss Master Tachi, too,” he tells her at length. “But she gave her life for the Republic, and so we must honour her gift.”
Ahsoka doesn’t look satisfied with that, but then neither is he. It’s such a…Ferus thing to say. Such a jedi thing to say. And what can he say? That he’s sorry about Master Siri and that Obi-wan is still in love with her? Will always be in love with her? That he can’t help but be grateful (so eternally grateful) that it was Siri who died instead of Padmé on that stupid, stupid mission they never ought to have been sent on? That he feels so guilty about that because how can he even think that?
“She always said you reminded her of him, you know.” Ahsoka says, meaning he’s been broadcasting more than he intended through the force.
“Well,” he says, trying to keep all of himself from sliding through his cracks. “I was Master Obi-wan’s padawan.”
Surprise flickers across her face. It’s a bad habit for a jedi, and one he knows she picked up (or at least maintained) because of him. He wants to correct it, but to correct it he must be an example, and being an example always eludes him. Unless it’s an example of how not to do it.
“Not Master Obi-wan,” Ahsoka says with a little shake of her head. “Master Siri always said you reminded her of Former Padawan Olin.”