feltloss:

  ‘                   dinner ? Anakin , you spoil me .    

  FOLLOWING ANAKIN IS an afterthought ; a result of that invisible pull, each tethered to the knots they’ve tied within the other . it is less of a motion than it is a rule of law : where one goes , the other one isn’t far behind . right-left , right-left he goes easily forward , straight to the sun

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  BUT LIKE THE SUN , Anakin runs hot         & obi-wan anticipates the burn behind the fragile smiles they exchange . FOLLOWING ANAKIN just as easily becomes a curse  with each stair climbed , each doorway passed ; each as empty as the apology he had left anakin with those few months ago . errantly flung over his shoulder like a grenade , clattering at his heels . it rang in the silence ; the right thing to do . the right thing to do . the right thing —– 

                      i’m sorry , anakin .

& just like his words , his confidence begins to run thinGUILT greets him like a distant lover , & it tastes the way Anakin had . Obi-wan swallows it down , runs his tongue across the smooth slick of his teeth & feigns a smile .       ‘      I do hope it’s candle-lit .      

               THEY RETURN TO Obi-Wan’s quarters with a weight settled over both their shoulders; the sudden, cellular awareness that there was something left unspoken between the two of them. The hum of tension eases Anakin’s walk into a graceful, raptorial slither.

               Anakin smiles at the name plate displayed on his former master’s door, metal inscribed with the elder man’s name, && below it a crude etching of the Open Circle symbol Anakin himself had insisted on carving. A reminder that Anakin isn’t going anywhere, even though he now shares his own quarters with Ahsoka.

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     ❝ It could be. ❞ Anakin turns back to Obi-Wan once they step past the threshold, unceremoniously dropping the man’s bags on the austere sofa planted near the door. The intensity blazing behind Anakin’s eyes would not be unfamiliar to Obi-Wan, but no less disconcerting for that matter.

               The sun stretches low over Coruscant, low enough to make the haze of fog hot && thick && shivering to look at. It fills Anakin with an ache of distant recognition where the desert still lives in him, for whatever reason.

     ❝ Are you hungry, Master? ❞ He asks with an air of affected nonchalance. He leads Obi-Wan into the kitchen, the countertops steaming with freshly cooked food. The moreish scent of his master’s favorite dish from Dex’s fills the air. Anakin leans against one of the countertops && slips his arms across his chest, waiting for Obi-Wan to make a move.

   ❝ I got your favorite. ❞

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