Who: Judith and Obi-Wan What: Tense conversations When: Wednesday Where: The Library Rating: Surprisingly not language, but Judith is still scary Status: log, cont. in comments
Judith hadn’t been in the library quite as much this week as weeks past; the last had been spent mostly outside the hotel for obvious reasons- the same reasons many of the books would have been bothersome to try to read anyway. Before, she had been steadily working her way through the shelves, one book at a time, both as a way to learn as much as possible and to keep herself sane in a grounded, disciplinary sort of way. She had Erik, but being part of a relationship- even as undefined as theirs, was completely new territory for her. Being around her father kept her tethered to the world they both knew inside and out, but the rest of the people here were wild cards. She had come up high with acquaintances like Eliot, but she had kept many others at a careful, observable distance.
With Erik napping back in their room, she entered the library with Vlad at her side, the last book read over the last three days tucked in her arm next to her gun belt and nine inch hilted hunting knife. The comfortable warmth of this room always reminded her of the first time she’d met Erik- the way he tensed at the sight of the dog in her shadow, their subsequence chess and mental games. The hint of woodsmoke and gunpowder in the air was familiar to her, but no one else seemed to smell it but her.
She searched for the empty space on the left shelf where she’d gotten the book, then plucked the next up without looking at the title. Before she had a chance, Vlad shifted by her leg, his eyes on the entrance- the dog gave a low signalling woof, short and quiet to let her know… she wasn’t alone.
The figure in the door was easy to recognize; the robes, the beard and eyes; this was the man her father was thrilled about including in their group at the truck stop for reasons that did not completely click with her. She understood the man had fighting skills, but she’d seen nothing of the sort with her own eyes. Judith trusted her father’s judgement to a large extent, but her own observations usually took precedent.
The last week had been nothing short of tumultuous for Obi-Wan. Suddenly arriving in a strange place and a strange world, and then learning that he would be transported against his will from one unfamiliar location to a next, was already difficult to deal with. Then his former colleague and Jedi-in-arms arrived at the hotel. A woman who was rightfully dead in his world and his memory. And although he was happy for her second chance at life (though he supposed that in itself was debatable -- because who knew what it meant when they finally returned from the hotel,) her presence brought to the surface many emotions that he had spent the last few years attempting to categorize and compartmentalize. And, in a few cases, even erase. Now everything was at the forefront. And what rightfully should have been years of careful contemplation and meditation suddenly ended. His past was catching up with him and he wasn’t prepared to face it.
But, even in a place like this, he had to rediscover a sense of normalcy and balance. Otherwise, Obi-Wan risked hitting a mental collapse. Despite the difficulties that came with living on Tatooine (the isolation, the loneliness, the unforgiving landscape, the preparation for the future,) there was a routine in his actions and a well thought out end goal for everything he did. He would ready himself for the day that Luke was set to take on his place in the Jedi world. He would prepare for the boy’s training, for his education, and for his inevitable confrontation with his father. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan didn’t have these things in Hotel Kairos. Well, perhaps on a figurative level, he did. But that added to the difficulty. It wasn’t tangible like the gritty sand in his robes and the hot sun on his skin.
Just another thing the hotel did to everyone. Put them in a position of great discomfort.
And that’s why he went to the library. There was something in that location that felt like home to him. Like days gone by and the world as it used to be. And, for the most part, it was quiet. So imagine his surprise when his entrance was met with a barking dog.
He wasn’t afraid of the animal, but it did give him pause to continue forward, and he averted his attention to the woman, whom he remembered from the gas station on the zombie world.
“Am I intruding?”
Judith didn't answer right away: he certainly wasn't 'intruding’, by any stretch of the word, save for the case where she wanted the space free of him. It was a gesture of goodwill, probably. Of what she'd seen of him last week, he certainly seemed the peacekeeping type. He also noticed Vlad, though no one really missed the hundred pound battering ram with a maw full of teeth, especially when he stared them down.
“Hardly,” she answered after a few heartbeats, a small amount of superficial warmth in her expression and tone. “Were you looking for something? Or someone?” She asked, curious as to the possibility that he was intentionally seeking her out. Doubtful, but interesting to think. Judith finally glanced at the book she'd picked. 'Lord of the Flies’.
“No, nothing in particular.”
However, it had been on his mind to find something to read as both a distraction as well as a means of quieting his thoughts from reminiscing on the past. Obi-Wan found that reading helped him to focus and push away unwanted wanderings of the mind, a problem that he hadn’t had since his days as a Padawan learner, but which had recently begun to plague him. He knew a lot of this had to do with his unreliable and disconnected perception of the Force, but it helped to have something substantial to bring his thoughts together. He hoped a book might offer the solution.
And then there was the opportunity to read new literature which was, on general principle, considered to be good for the mind.
He took a few steps toward her, calm and careful so as not to disrupt the dog.
“We didn’t get to meet properly before. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
While Judith's posture didn't change, Vlad lifted his head, keeping the newcomer in his eyes. He didn't growl, bristle, or bare his teeth. In fact, he looked rather curious. His master took note of the change, and dropped her free hand to his head.
“My father seems to know you,” she replied calmly. Her tone was intentionally as close to his own as possible. “My name is Judith. This is Vlad.” She stroked the dog's ear. “He seems to like you.”
“Yes, it seems my reputation has surpassed quadrants of the galaxy that even I am familiar with,” Obi-Wan replied. And he had gone through a lot of star charts in his academy days. “Unfortunately, I have not yet had the pleasure of a formal introduction to your father. From what I have seen of him, he seems to be a very brave man.”
Obi-Wan tilted his head to the side and looked down at the dog. It was a beautiful animal. Then again, all Jedis were supposed to see the beauty and peace in nature, despite how peculiar some beasts actually were. Obi-Wan, however, having never had the opportunity of owning a pet (the dangers of emotional attachments and all) had a soft spot for any creature that had a fondness for people.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Judith. Vlad.”
His words bounced around in Judith’s head like an inside joke; a very brave man. That, her father was, so long as the definition of brave included unflinchingly brutal. She knew he would move armies of men and women- alive or dead- shred and burn them to ash- if he thought it would better her life, but most people who knew Negan had plenty of other words to describe him before ‘brave’.
“Your reputation hasn’t reached me,” she reminded him in her usual gentle voice, though even delicate it lacked a certain aspect of warmth. It was her way of letting him know she was judging him.
The courtesy of letting him know came from how highly Negan spoke of who he was supposed to be.
“I’ve read several of these,” she added quickly, glancing idly at her book. “What do you enjoy reading.”
If someone had asked him honestly how he felt about turning a corner in the hotel and being recognized by strangers from lands he’d never heard of, Obi-Wan would have said that he found it both uncomfortable and unnerving. And, above all, he didn’t really understand it. He had been well known in the Jedi community, and on Coruscant and Naboo for his involvement in the Clone War, but he was neither the most formidable nor the wisest of Jedi. And his own personal history was nothing remarkable. So for it to be his name that struck so much familiarity in these people was something of a conundrum for him. And it made him question whether Luke was indeed safe on Tatooine.
With Vlad seemingly unperturbed by his presence, Obi-Wan ventured further into the library so that they weren’t uncomfortably conversing from across the room.
“A little bit of everything. History, philosophy, the occasional fantasy. Anything but politics. I have no great fondness for that subject.”
His recent involvement with government officials had left a sour taste in his mouth. And not just because it resulted in a collapse of everything he held dear.
“But many of these titles are unfamiliar to me. So I’m open to suggestions.”
She found his answer amusing for her own purposes, and allowed it to show on her face as the shade of a half-smile. Politics. She had learned since reading this library’s selection that her definition of the word differs greatly from what might be called the usual. Then again, sometimes, they were very much aligned.
“When you say ‘politics’,” she clarified, softly. “Do you mean stories that deal with the mechanics of people and government? Or something more ...general?”
Obi-Wan had to think about the question. There seemed to be a very thin line between the two distinctions she was trying to make, and he found himself thinking about literature from his own time and place as well as his personal experience with governing bodies to form a proper response.
“The mechanics of government.”
He had never had a favorable outlook on politicians. There were only a handful that he could admit to liking, which said a considerable amount, since it wasn’t so easy getting on Obi-Wan’s bad side. If he even had a bad side. Which, in and of itself, was probably up for debate. Mechanics of people in his respect, perhaps.
“I was never fond of politicians. Particularly when their endless debating results in the suffering of others. I respect those who can maneuver the political spectrum. I, however, would not have the patience for the deception. So I tend to steer clear of all things political in nature. Stories, included.”
Judith gave a small nod, following his line of reasoning perfectly- in part thanks to his level of eloquence. In that moment, he reminded her of Erik, if only because this room was where they had first met, and their conversation had been something similar. It was also the surface cover of what had really been going on; she and Erik were barbing each other, examining each other for weakness, for threats. She studied this man in the same light, but wasn’t completely sure the sentiment was being returned.
If she were betting on it, she’d say he wasn’t. What she saw was what she got.
“Politicians can be draining,” she agreed with him amicably while cataloging his reactions. “Though I’d say suffering and deception are part of human existence as a whole.” This, she added in a contemplative light.
Extending the book she held in her hand toward him, Judith offered him a little more smile.
“I’ve read this one already.”
Obi-Wan had yet to find himself in a position since arriving to have to feel someone out, for lack of a better phrase. Most of the hotel residents were open, friendly, and willing to share what they knew in order to ease the difficulties that came with suddenly arriving in a strange new place. Did that mean his guard was down? Not necessarily. But he was not so paranoid as to use the Force to sense the intentions of everyone around him, every second of the day. Besides, even if he did, he would have had to take the results with a grain of salt. The Force had become more elusive to him and he worried that his use of it, with regards to mental and emotional discovery, could not be entirely trusted.
At least, not for the time being.
“They may be part of human existence, but that does not mean they are a necessary part. Nor should they be allowed to be imposed upon others through the actions or dis-actions of a governing structure.”
The Jedi were a bit of conundrum. They couldn’t be considered pacifists and yet they strongly adhered to the belief that they were a peacekeeping entity. Obi-Wan sometimes found it difficult to explain his combative and lightsaber skills with his determination to see peace across the galaxy. Still, that was how it was, and in an obscure way it made sense to him.
He accepted the book, looking carefully at the cover and the unfamiliar title. Lord of the Flies. Obi-Wan hoped that was symbolic. He couldn’t imagine reading a novel about the royal hierarchy of insects.
“It must be good if you were considering reading it again.”
“I’m told it’s a classic,” she admitted, a certain quality in her voice showing she did in fact, find the book worth reading more than once. Still watching him in a subtle way that still showed her interest, she plucked the next book in line from the shelf, but didn’t even glance at the cover.
“Don’t let me keep you,” she offered quietly. “But I don’t have many opportunities for conversation that includes the human existence… if you’re game?”
It was almost a lie, however inconsequential; she and Erik had plenty of such conversations, and she’d touched on it similarly with Elliot, but before? In her world, conversations were rarely deep. Judith delivered it with a small gesture toward the nearby set of padded chairs, and expectantly lifted copper brows.
“Then I will be sure to read it and give you my assessment of it,” Obi-Wan said.
And he meant it, too, which was not often true in people. Obi-Wan had a very peculiar and punctual knack for keeping his word. Even on small, seemingly inconsequential things that didn’t deem much importance. If he said he would do something, he would do it. In this case, after they parted company he would return to his room, read the book, and the next time they met he would offer his perspective on it. And he would consider it a small reciprocity of kindness for the recommendation.
He considered leaving then, so as not to bother her further, but she offered to continue the conversation. But in a rather peculiar way that made Obi-Wan pause to wonder if he was supposed to interpret something else in her meaning.
You’re overthinking. She’s just being pleasant, he told himself.
“I have no place I need to be,” he said, crossing the room towards one of the padded chairs. He was curious what it was about human existence that she wanted to explore in discussion. After all, it wasn’t exactly a perfunctory topic of conversation.
Judith waited behind a polite distance, then seated herself comfortably in the chair across from him. Her posture wasn’t perfect, but it was casual and relaxed, and there was a spark of something in her eyes that could be called excitement for the opportunity. In truth, she wasn’t just simply sating some curiosity; she was sizing him up. People tended to reveal exactly who they were when they thought someone was genuinely interested and impressed with their opinion.
“You don’t like politics- or politicians,” she started, gently folding her hands on her crossed legs. “-because they cause suffering through …” She paused, only to remember the correct word. Her knowledge of more complicated societies- ones that had politicians- was second-hand. “Legislation, or something like it, right? What did you live through that formed this conclusion?”
Obi-Wan set the book on a small table beside his chair and glanced over at Vlad, who seemed to obediently remain at his owner’s side.
“I believe in democracy. I believe that it’s important for every member of society to have a say in legislature and in the people chosen to uphold and interpret that legislature. I think that’s important for individual freedom and liberty. But I’ve seen how fear and greed and selfishness can easily cause that system to break. Politicians tend to do what’s best for themselves, focusing on keeping their appointments instead of representing their communities. There are the exceptions, of course. Politicians who can see beyond their own provinces and planets, and who respect the well-being of people they do not know, but they are few and far between.”
And when people feared standing up for their beliefs, they easily let go of their freedoms under the guise of safety.
“I watched a great republic turn a blind eye to collaboration and collapse into an empire. Now they have no basic liberties. People live in daily fear of expression. The ruthless have power. It has become a disease that is quickly spreading throughout the galaxy.”
Obi-Wan pulled gently at a few beard hairs near his chin in thought.
“But I am optimistic that someone will restore the peace.”
Judith listened with interest, unphased by the use of words like 'galaxy’ and the like. Her first experience in this hotel was apparently on a different world- one according to her father, this man existed on. The concept fascinated her, but only to a certain point. Her perspective could only reach so far, and include one specific species: humans.
What she knew of democracy and 'republic’ was pieced together from lessons taught by people in the generation older than her, most of which had long died off by the time she came to power. She had grown up in the opposite of a democracy. Her concept of politicians were from books, and from her own implementation in the settlements she oversaw.
But before that, individual expression wasn't part of survival: hive mind was.
They were all Negan.
“How do you expect peace to be restored?” she asked after a moment of thought. Her tone gentle, and seemingly genuine. “An empire is in power, right? Empires don't fall through peaceful debate.”
“There is an old prophecy in my world of someone who will bring balance to the Force. The Force is the energy that surrounds and binds all living things. It can be a powerful weapon in the wrong hands. But the prophecy says that the one who brings balance to the Force will also bring peace to the galaxy.”
Of course, that prophecy had already been misread and misinterpreted with catastrophic results. That was the problem with prophecies and predictions. Still, Obi-Wan had hope. It wasn’t a hope based in any kind of science or evidence-based experimentation. It was a hope built on faith and optimism.
“When that person ends the reign of the Sith which is currently in charge of the empire, then that person will work to rebuild and restore the republic.”
Obi-Wan was far from naive. He understood that it would be a bloody road to regaining peace in the galaxy. But these were circumstances beyond his control. And he had great faith that the chosen one would end the tyranny and suffering of so many worlds.
If Judith was skeptical about the legitimacy of this 'prophecy’, she didn't show it in expression or body language. She just let a lazy hand drop down from her lap to pet Vlad, who remained sitting comfortable and attentive with his back against her leg. He kept his eyes on their company as strictly as his Master.
“When you say balance,” she began with a slight tilt of her head. “I assume you mean the return to some status quo that ended with the spread of this Empire?” The question was rhetorical. She just watched his reaction for confirmation before moving on.
“What part of this do you play?” She asked a little more pointedly. “Are you a citizen? A deposed member of the old republic?”
Obi-Wan raised a brow at her rhetorical question. There was quite a bit more to it than just returning to the status quo, but to describe that in detail would have taken an entire evening, delving into the intricacies not only of the Jedi Order but of their Sith counterparts. Her assumption wasn’t incorrect, but it was elementary. Still, Obi-Wan gave a sort of half nod of confirmation before answering her next question.
“I am one of the last remaining members of an ancient organization which has, using the light side of the Force for good, served as guardians and protectors of peace and justice in the republic for more than a thousand generations. The rest were killed by the empire.”
And now? Now Obi-Wan was protector and guardian to a single person (the last hope in the galaxy perhaps,) though that person had no memory or knowledge of him. And wouldn’t for a long time. Never, if his uncle had anything to say about it.
“I see…” That was interesting, genuinely so. Judith briefly took in the look of him with that new information; the strange, bathrobe-like attire and billowing cloak reminded her of pictures she’d seen of religious orders in older books- the assessment wasn’t too far off. At least, from her perspective.
“It was your organization that ...came up with this prophecy?” she asked, leaning forward a bit to rest her forearms on her knee, crossed and casual. “Was that the reason they were targeted?”
She asked a lot of difficult questions. It reminded him of Anakin’s Padawan years. Anakin had a lot of difficult questions too. Lots of questions, actually. Sometimes too many. Obi-Wan had been a curious student when he was began his tutelage under Qui-Gon Jinn, but he never remembered being so inquisitive.
“Well, it began as a sort of legend that was generally ignored because it appeared that my organization, the Jedi, had long since defeated its enemy. We assumed we had balance. It wasn’t until a boy was discovered who seemed to match the description of the prophecy that it was brought back into consideration.”
And they had been wrong. Or so it seemed. It was difficult to say because, like all prophecies, there were so many ways of interpreting the words. And even more ways of misinterpreting them.
“No, the Jedi were targeted because they posed a threat to the empire.”
“A peace-keeping order was a threat to a military empire?” Judith asked, keeping her tone curious instead of incredulous. “How?”
Obi-Wan grinned.
“You don’t miss much.”
He scratched the back of his neck, considering how to best answer the question without delving into centuries of philosophical debate or coming off as a hypocrite to everything he had already told her. Then he realized that wasn’t possible and just went with the truth. He would let her carve her own opinions on it.
“Alongside the powers gained from the Force, a Jedi is trained in multiple forms of combat and weaponry. We served in wars on the side of the Galactic Republic as commanders, tacticians, and as guardians of the peace the republic stood for. However, most of our combat training was meant to protect against the Sith, a group of individuals who use the power of the Force for evil.”
Judith smiled in a way most would consider warm at his observation of her observations, and eased back into her seat to cross her legs at the ankle instead of the knee as he continued. What he described gave her a fuller picture of this monk-like order of his- not so absolutely benign as he’d made it out to be before.
“So you’re a warrior for peace,” she concluded quietly. She was curious as to the ‘powers’ he alluded to; this ‘Force’ concept apparently was more tangible than a simple belief system. However, she decided to wait. Her interest in how powerful, or dangerous, he could be was directly related to his worldview, and she wanted to know that in the most detail possible.
“What is your definition of good, versus evil?”
“We have a code that we adhere to. Whenever we are faced with a situation where it cannot be easily broken down in black and white terms, we go to the code to guide us. The code places an emphasis on peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony, and the Force. These are aspects that I consider definitions of good. Absolutes are a tricky business, but that’s why we have the code, to simplify our understanding of the world around us. As for evil, well, the Jedi don’t define evil so much as point out what can lead a person to the Dark Side. These things are emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, and death.”
It was an imperfect system. Any Jedi would admit to that. And there were various levels of attainment when it came to understanding of the Jedi Code and their way. Obi-Wan, for example, would never reach the same level of competence in the Force as Yoda. He would never obtain the rank of Grand Master Jedi. And not just because there was no one left to appoint him, but because he would probably never attain the complete obliteration of those so-called evil triggers with regards to himself.
Emotion and passion were not easy things to discard. Even for the well trained and disciplined.
Her head gave the slightest tilt as she processed his last statement especially, but she let the silence marinate between them for a few significant moments. Three heartbeats. Four. Six.
“Codes like that are necessary for every successful society,” she finally agreed, but something hung in her statement, like the undertones of a dissonant chord. “There are always rules- but I’m curious…”
Judith rolled her shoulders back and exhaled lightly, as if the conversation had shifted to a more somber subject- one she agreed with him on, despite her doubts. “What sense does a code make when it includes the absolutes of life in both columns of good and evil?” He touched on that already- absolutes were tricky- but she took it further. “Emotion is the root of love and hate. Joy and suffering. Passion aids survival. And death…” She even laughed a little, dimples digging into both cheeks. “Everything dies. Good and evil.”
Obi-Wan leaned back in the soft padding of the chair, wishing he had Yoda around to give one of his single sentence responses that seemed to answer anything and everything in five words or less. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan had not yet achieved that level of knowledge or experience. Maybe he would, if he had the privilege of living another 800 years or so, but even then he probably wouldn’t. He wasn’t lacking in wisdom or experience, but he didn’t have the answers to everything. Perhaps therein lied his wisdom, recognizing his shortcomings.
“The code tells a Jedi how to live his life. We do our best to withhold the expression of too much emotion. We abandon passions, both love and hate. We seek knowledge to improve our understanding of the Force and how it affects us and the world around us. And we use that knowledge to prevent the pain and suffering of others.”
These were probably some of the reasons why there had never been thousands upon thousands of Jedi to begin with. The ability to sense the Force was, technically, inherent and available to all creatures. Though most never noticed it. But the strict adherence to the code was something that most people found difficult to abide. There was, after all, something to be said about the love of family and relationships. But love was a vulnerability that clouded a person’s judgment. It was something a Jedi could not afford to let stand between him and the right decisions.
“Yes, death is a natural state of all things. But, with the guidance of the Force, it is possible to live on after death. It is not an easy task to accomplish, but it has been done.”
Judith appreciated the work he was putting into his answers, especially because she could see him grinding through them. He wasn’t reciting a script; he was thinking, and that was the first step. If he was nothing but indoctrinated code, she wouldn’t be wasting her time.
“Live on after death,” she parroted back with another small chuckle. “-without emotion? Without the drive that keeps us going in the first place?” The word she didn’t say was why, but it was clear enough in her tone. She also didn’t give him time to respond.
“You say your order uses the advantage of knowing this ‘Force’ to prevent the pain and suffering of others-” she continued, quite casually. “Considering the nature of the beast, so to speak, wouldn’t the implementation of this code cause the pain and suffering of some? Specifically those who… say… don’t believe the same way. It’s unavoidable- so the question is, how would you decide who’s pain and suffering is worth the sacrifice? Is it the greater good?”
Obi-Wan suddenly felt like he was back during his Initiate Trials, defending himself against one challenging query after another by the Jedi Masters. The hardest questions of all? The ones that didn’t have an answer but demanded a response.
“You misunderstand me. This is not a code that I expect every person and creature to live up to. For many people it is not a productive means of living. Nor is it appropriate. Being a Jedi means devoting yourself to a higher purpose at the expense of your own personal pleasure and desires. We sacrifice the experiences of love, attachment, family, hate, ego, and so on, so that others may have the choice to live a life full of emotion. A Jedi who feels they cannot live by the code is welcome to seek a future elsewhere. We encourage it as a sign of the Force trying to put that person on the right path.”
Obi-Wan took a moment to pause. He hadn’t realized that his voice was raising a bit higher in volume than usual. He furrowed his brows and took a calming breath.
“I believe that all pain and suffering should be removed from the universe. Is that possible? Perhaps not. But I would gladly set aside my own desires if it meant working towards that goal. It is the people that choose to live in a pain of their own making that I pity, because only they can help themselves.”
As she had for the duration of this conversation, Judith remained still and poised, listening to his answers with what appeared to be a delicate, respectful attention, but as the intensity of his voice steadily climbed, she couldn't help but be internally pleased with herself. She stayed silent as he collected himself, and by the end of his final statement, she was smiling.
Not maniacally, or even coldly, but with a soft hint of enjoyment that she allowed him to see; just someone who was happy to engage in such a meaningful conversation.
“Be careful,” she began in a mostly teasing tone after a few beats of silence. “You might start to sound self-righteous.” Another beat, then her expression changed; the smile faded in favor of the more serious and engaged look she’d had for the rest of their discussion. “But I did actually understand you-- I think you may have misunderstood me. I wasn’t referring to the members of your order, though I do have a few more questions about that.”
Judith sat forward a bit, relieving him of the line of tension that could have come from her loftiness. She wanted him to feel judged, but not to the point that he might become defensive. Just enough to get under his skin and fester later on.
“Let’s talk specifics instead of hypotheticals,” she started, tilting her head a little in the friendly delivery. “To your knowledge, have lives unassociated with the Jedi been negatively affected by the implementation of the Jedi code?”
Her smile was unsettling. And it was then that Obi-Wan realized he was caught in the middle of something that was a little bit more than a session of getting to know you. He looked directly at her as she spoke, watching the quick changes of expression from friendly amused smile to serious stare. That was a look that sparked a sense of familiarity in him that he did not want to encourage.
He didn’t answer for a long pacing minute after she had finished with her taunt and subsequent business-directed line of questioning. Not because he didn’t know the answer or because he was disturbed by the context of her queries, but because, at that moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to continue this conversation. He had a strange sense that he was being goaded into something he hadn’t quite grasped the understanding of, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like being made to feel like some kind of small creature under a magnifying glass, with the sun drawing closer and closer to the reflective lens.
If this was some kind of game to her, he couldn’t understand why. But, Obi-Wan was a master of giving everyone both a second chance and the benefit of the doubt.
So, he responded in the most appropriate way he could foresee. He leaned casually back into the chair, relaxed his shoulders as though he were a little bit bored by her question, and gave her and answer, honest and simple.
“No.”
As the silence stretched on between her question and his answer, Judith was witness to the new gears turning behind his eyes; the flash of understanding, but not of the whole, like an animal realizing it'd walked into a space that suddenly had no clear exit. She saw the shift from uncertainty and reluctance to a distinctly new posture, and recognized it immediately as diversion.
The fact that his answers thus far has been multifaceted and thorough made this single word and dull-eyed look he gave her a complete tell, and whether he thought he was being honest or not didn't matter.
Judith didn't believe him.
“Noone,” she reiterated quietly, her brows twitching up in gentle surprise. “Hm. Guess I was wrong.” She waved it off easily, breaking the hard line of eye contact with him in order to pay a little attention to Vlad by scratching behind his ear, which he leaned into with a pleasant groan, but she didn't let the silence linger long enough for him to grab the conversation away in any polite manner.
“You know, I don't think you and I are very different,” she observed pleasantly, like she'd met a new acquaintance with the love of a similar artist or food. “Perhaps not on a galactic scale, but in my world, I maintain the peace between steadily growing societies. And maintaining peace is not always a very ...peaceful process,” she added like commiseration. Like empathy.
“To my knowledge, no,” Obi-Wan reiterated.
There were a great many things that he knew, but just as many things that he did not know. He wasn’t one of the well learned Jedi philosophers, nor was he one of the keepers of the Jedi library, and the wealth of knowledge and information housed within its walls. The Force had led him in another direction with regards to his abilities.
When she compared the two of them, Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow in idle curiosity.
“On some scale of perception everyone shares similarities. But that does not mean we have the same view on how peace should be maintained. You have told me little to nothing about yourself and your views on the human experience, so I have no means of knowing if your consideration or comparison has any truth to it. By all means, feel free to share. My curiosity is piqued.”
“To be fair,” Judith began with a friendly smile. “-you haven't asked.”
And she knew very well why, but that didn't change the fact. That he observed rightly that everyone could find similarly between everyone else was part of her earlier point: the whole rigid and uncompromising view of good and evil were blurred together when it came to reality, and he knew that. He just seemed to be planted firmly on his definition of 'good’.
So was everyone.
“The world I grew up in valued two things, one almost always taking priority over the other, but that's life in general. Survival comes first, followed by a reason to live. My world was dead before I was even born. You might recognize it,” she added. “You arrived in the middle of it last week.”