dustmade.

            SHE’S NOT AFRAID OF HIM though part of her feels she SHOULD be. he is the chosen one. a fact touted often enough that when they aren’t right to his face, other padawans MOCK it behind his back. power doesn’t scare her. not his, not anyone’s, not when she’s had the baptism by fire that training with a sith lord has been.   ( she is not a sith lady. rey is a knowing pawn in her father’s game, but it’s all she’s known. she has no complaints. )   he’s hardly subtle about how he feels for his master, jealousy an emotion that would surely get him scolded by any of the elders. goodness knows she’d had those first seeds of envy worked out of her with more laps than she could begin to count.

            ❝look, don’t worry. i’m sure it won’t be too long. and master windu said that both master kenobi and the council had agreed. i will ANXIOUSLY await the day that my own master returns. it’ll be — a month at longest, positive.❞             which — she’s well aware that’s MORE than long enough to raise his hackles but rey’s curious what color he’ll turn. 

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            diplomatic missions aren’t short, and often are prone to being extended. a month is hopeful of her. she doesn’t know much of anakin or his disposition outside of having seen him in their classes as younglings, and now that darth sidious finds himself particularly interested in his progress. it is impossible not to see that anakin is strong. the strongest among them, she’s sure.

            ( it may sound odd, but she knows she knows she respects him because the thought of fighting him makes her heart rate pick up. she does not FEAR him, but she has a healthy respect for those stronger than she is. )

               ANAKIN BRACES HIS surging temper with a quick breath, a charged gaze framing Rey as he struggles with the feeling that wrenches through him: all too familiar, a scalding heat that rides on his pulse, seizing up in his throat. Like a predictable storm front, it hauls him dead center into the moment when the other Padawan sat across from him. 

               During wartime it’s become increasingly common for masters to assume responsibility for Padawans outside their charge for months at a time. He’s hardly the first to have to share their master’s attention. But it’s the first time he’s experienced it himself. He had once been a slave, with no right to possess or claim. He owned nothing && was nothing until the Order gave him his freedom ( && Obi-Wan ) sits sharply within him. A knife’s edge he can feel himself swallow around. Muscles stand out on either side of his clenched jaw, like they do when he has something to say && is trying not to say it.

               His master’s words && wisdom do not belong to him, && he has no right to feel so slighted by this slip of fate. && yet he finds himself lost in the core of some thrumming beast, his anger an energy that roars, silencing the noise of the cafeteria to a dull ringing in his ears. Anakin feels pricks of insidious ice crawl across his skin, lining his sternum with a column of lead that bows his posture forward. 

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     ❝ Does Obi — Master Kenobi — already know about this? ❞ He hates the tremor that splits his tone, uncertainty an audible waver that breaks off his words. Eyes close beneath knitting brows, leashed pains breaking the surface of his unsteady stoicism. 

     ❝ Will you be going on missions with us too? ❞ Anakin leaves his food abandoned for a lack of appetite.

 
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independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.