THE MOD TEAM (paramods) wrote in parabolical, @ 2007-12-08 23:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | anakin skywalker, padmé amidala |
11/22 (city streets) - Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala.
WHO: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala
WHERE: the city streets
WHEN: November 22nd, evening
WHAT: arriving with a dash of freaking out just slightly
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: COMPLETE
sithlord
ANAKIN SKYWALKER
For twenty years, he'd gazed out upon the world through the red-tinted screens within the helmet that confined him. It was his eternal prison and he embraced it, though he felt he deserved far less than what he had been given. Time and time again, he wished that he'd died on that rocky ledge next to the lava on Mustafar - and he would have, if not for the burning hatred he felt for his former master and the sting of betrayal his wife had inflicted upon him. Obi-Wan should've killed him instead of crippling him beyond repair. He'd lost everything on that molten lava planet and had willingly allowed Palpatine to shape him into the monster he had become. It was a half life, but a life, and the only one he really deserved after all that he had done. If he deserved one at all.
He had suddenly felt inspired, as if a revelation he'd known for quite some time now had finally sunk in, and sprung fourth despite his own injuries, taking hold of his Master and throwing him down that tunnel to his death. He'd killed his Master for the son he barely knew and admittedly, didn't really want to. He remembered Luke talking, something about having to save him; himself rambling about Luke being right and to tell Leia he was right...then, everything went black.
Death.
And for a moment, he felt the presence of Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan, and Yoda...and then...
The light assaulted his eyes as he was jolted into some sort of consciousness, and he recoiled into the shadows, hiding from the brightness. Was this the afterlife? Why hadn't he merged with the Force...was it because of all the things that he had done? He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Fate was cruel and it was just.
He took air into his lungs and let it out, waiting to hear the raspiness of his burned throat, to feel the pain in his chest, to hear the harsh release of air from the breathing regulator in his helmet...but nothing of the sort happened.
He was breathing.
The dark lord of the Sith lay there for a moment, drawing air in and out of his lungs. He took joy out of feeling that simple sensation, for it was one he had not experienced since his lungs had been burned by the flames on Mustafar. He could smell - though the sent was rather unpleasant, fumes and what not - and hear, feel, and see...all without the aid of the suit he'd been trapped in.
It was then that he realized he was sitting beneath a tree on a street corner of a city on a planet he did not recognize. Then again, he was not accustomed to looking upon things with un-damaged eyes. He lifted his right hand to--
Vader locked his eyes upon the arm, staring at the dark leather and straps of the glove that covered his severed arm. Glove. Examining the rest of his body, he noted that he was wearing Jedi robes. The same Jedi robes from before he was burned on Mustafar. With his left, he reached up and felt the scar that ran along the edge of his right eye, a wound he'd received from Asajj Ventress.
And he screamed.