Meetra Surik Rebuilt the Jedi (the_exile) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-09-09 05:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, meetra surik, obi-wan kenobi |
"Three thousand years and still scruffy"
Who: Meetra Surik and Obi-wan Kenobi
What: Sharing lightsabers, a bit of hero worship, and then offers of training!
When: Thursday, day before the Gala!
Where: Somewhere with trees
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
warnings: KOTOR 1 and 2 spoilers.
Meetra was mediating. The breeze was cool in her hair and the trees offered shade from the heat of the day. The humidity would normally bother her, save that she turned her mind to other things.
What the day was going to bring. The faces and names that haunted her dreams, the power of the force that continually seemed to elude her except at random moments. Meditation brought her focus.
So why was she suddenly hungry?
Obi-Wan was not meditating--he was still very bad at that. In fact, his body felt like a heavy bundle of nerves; but he was moving steadily through the forest, relying on the Force to guide him to Meetra and their meeting place. A shoulder bag bounced against his hip with every step. He could feel the lightsaber behind the thin fabric, nestled safe inside.
It was about mid-morning, and the humidity was a little out of the ordinary for southern California, likely the fringe result of some crazy weather pattern elsewhere. There was a little bit of sweat collecting at Obi’s hairline.
He was not dressed in his robes, though he had thought of bringing them to show. Instead, he was wearing cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt, flecked with paint as usual, looking much more like a carpenter on his day off than a Jedi knight. He was fighting off dread and marching onward, worried that he was about to embarrass himself in front of an epic historical figure. Meetra Surik. The Exile. Was it really possible? Was it really possible that he was about to meet her?
Meetra's lightsaber was resting inside a pack next to her. She wore white pants and a brown blouse. Something to freely move in and appropriate for her to fence in. There didn't exist lightsaber safe fencing gear, after all.
She felt him before she heard him, and heard him before she opened her eyes to see him. He was...actually pretty much what she would have expected. He resembled Revan in one or two ways, but many Jedi sport facial hair. And his outfit was strangely fitting, in some wry part of her mind.
"Hello," She said simply, unsure how she should act. How history had treated her. Figures tended to get blown up a bit, even among the Jedi. She was pretty sure she wasn't supposd to be ten feet tall and breathing fire. She wondered if he'd seen her silver medal at the Olympics.
Obi had not watched much of Olympics. He had been busy with work, he worked all day long, and when he was not working, he tended to be asleep. Except on occasions such as these. Pushing work back a few hours was not beyond him. He made his own schedule.
So this was his first time seeing Meetra Surik, in this form, at least. There were images of her he had seen at the Temple, mostly during his youth. She was indeed a legendary figure, but Obi had always been impressed by the humility in her eyes. And the woman before him was the same. It truly was she. He fought the urge to bow.
“Hullo there,” he replied, voice low and even, but also reverent. Then, he smiled and shook his head. “My god, this is... It’s really you. I can scarcely believe it.”
Meetra didn't remember everything. She'd known she'd done terrible things, and great things. She doubted she'd had a choice in the matter, and Revan would always be the greater of the two, in her eyes.
"Three thousand years and still scruffy," Meetra replyed, smiling easily. "Have a seat, Mr. Kenobi. I'm not sure which is stranger, that we're Jedi, or that we're from different times."
Obi ran his fingernails along his beard and smiled a little. He sat down to face her, folding his legs beneath him. He ducked his head to remove the shoulder bag and placed that beside him. As for his hands, they fell neatly into his lap. He regarded her for a few moments in silence, a look of bemusement tugging at his strong features. “Congratulations on your medals,” he said.
"Thank you. I had to sever myself from the force so I wouldn't cheat." The admission came more easily than she had thought it would. She hadn't told Michiru, or Roland or Haruka, and they were the ones she was closest to. But she wasn't sure they'd fully understand. She wasn't even sure Obi would understand. Severing one's connection to the force wasn't generally easy. Or welcome to most people.
He did not judge her harshly for it. In part of his brain, it made a lot of sense. Months ago, back when he was just beginning to realize he had these powers, Obi had thrown a boxing match for essentially the same reasons. What Meetra had done was probably more honorable.
Obi nodded his head, sensing her concerns. “Probably for the best,” he said. “And, personally, I can understand wanting to win on your own merit.” There was something about how the word personally slid off his tongue that even he noticed. He was not always always comfortable with the division between himself and the man he once was.
"The harder part was reconnecting," She replied. "My timing was well enough to pick up that disturbance. Or maybe the disturbance helped, I don't really know. I've done it during traumatic experiences, but it came rather easily anyway."
She shook her head, "I thought about not reconnecting, but that seemed somehow wrong. Like I was denying a part of myself."
Obi snorted a little blast of air through his nose. His brows shot upward for a moment. “Well, I can honestly say that I’ve entertained the idea once or twice, as well. You’re not alone, if it’s any consolation. It’s an attractive prospect, the possibility of going back to the way things were before, but it’s only an illusion. I can’t even pretend I could. Not at this point.”
He leaned forward a bit. The humidity made the forest almost airless, but also very quiet. Peaceful. “What do you remember?” he asked.
"Maybe there's a reason for it. It wouldn't be the first time I was all but alone." She shifted, leaning back on her hands as she thought.
"My training, my master. I was trained by a Sunrider, which was apparently a big deal, as they were descended from a famous person. I remember Revan, the first time I saw him, heard his voice. How easily persuaded we all were that the cause was just. How much he believed and in turn how much we believed."
She sighed, closing her eyes as she envisioned it, "The war was necessary, I've no doubt about that. But it was brutal. The Mandalorians reveled in the fight. I rose through the ranks quickly, becoming Revan's most trusted general. He gave me the keys to a super weapon."
Meetra visibly became green, "I remember using it, and what happened. I remember being the lone person to return to the council. The only one to stand trial. I defended Revan, all of us, even then. They exiled me, and I impaled the center stone."
Okay, a little less green now. Her righteous anger and indignation fueled her, "I remember my time in Exile. And then things seem to jump around more. I redeemed two people from the Dark Side. I confronted my own... inadequacies and issues. I watched the council die, helpless. I remember taking a droid to Bastila Shan and her and Revan's child."
Meetra grew quiet. The most recent dreams chronologically were almost as terrible as turning the super weapon on, at least on a personal level.
Obi's eyes were locked on her, almost in a trance. As she regaled him about her memories, bits and pieces of his dreams about the Temple rose like bubbles in a pot of water beginning to boil. He felt dazzled and a little dizzy. What he felt was star stuck, but he was doing his best to suppress it. From his own point of view, the last thing any dreamer needed was to be treated as anything less than a person. She was flesh and blood, and she had a full life here as well.
"Before the dreams started, had you any indication of this previous existence?" he asked. "Personally, I'd say I'm not sure. But I think that there have been some parallels, upon examination. Perhaps I've even always felt a little out of place, and now things are beginning to make more sense.
"For example," he continued. "My Master there did play an important role in my life here, but I was blind to it until now. He was an instructor of mine, and a good friend. And now that my eyes can see it, I know it was the same man. But it wasn't until the dreaming began."
"I forgave my brother, for killing himself and our parents," Meetra replied quietly. Another admission she hadn't really told anyone. It wasn't secret, but she rarely talked about it. "I seem to forgive some really terrible things, there. I don't know if that makes me compassionate, or weak. There, I seem to draw people to me like moths to a flame. Here I'm not quite so good at that, yet. I might not have that quality, just yet."
Meetra tilted her head, thinking about that, "My fencing coach..." How had she not seen it until he said something.
Obi nodded solemnly and simply, his eyes low as she shared more impossibly sad details. She was the embodiment of tragedy, even here, but strong enough to withstand the full force of a galaxy of enemies.
A smile turned up the corners of his mouth, his cheekbones pressing against the bottom lids of his eyes. "You see? And I assure you, you will have many more realizations like that, before this is all said and done."
A few moments of silence passed. His eyes moved to the shoulder bag he had placed on the ground. Obi reached for it and lifted the front flap. When he removed his hand, his lightsaber was in it. He held it out to her. "Maybe you would like to see what two at once feels like?"
"I never even made the connection, but it's true." Teasingly, she added, "Mind you, I went through quite a few masters until they found one that could handle me."
She looked down at his hand, "Really? Do you mean that?" She felt more eager than she thought she would. One was dangerous, two even more so, requiring a degree of concentration that left one vulnerable. But it was also an aggressive style.
With a grunt, he rose to his feet. "Of course I mean it. I'll just keep my distance, if you don't mind..." There was a chuckle in his voice, but he was already starting to back away.
Pulling her saber out of her pack, Meetra stood, Obi's saber in her offhand. She was a southpaw. She fired them up simultaneously, the sound sending a chill down her spine. Obi's was blue and her own was a deep orange. She spun them, then twisted suddenly like a dervish before beginning her custom training routine. Her eyes seemed to place her somewhere else, or some when else.
It was almost like a deadly dance. She utilized a combination the acrobatic and flowing Ataru with the fencer-like style of Makashi, with it's precise movements and fluid strikes. Both forms emphasized the aggressive over the defensive, and the combination suited her well.
It was like a beautiful dance, though many would have found the sight frightening. Even Obi did, a little, as the deadly colors spun and cut through the air. One thing was for certain, Meetra’s skill was well beyond his. He felt almost jealous of her fencing training. Dreams or none, he was still learning everything from scratch. In this world, Jinn had taught him how to fish, not how to handle a blade.
There was an advantage to that Meetra would admit, but much of this was muscle memory, and so raw. She ended in a crouch, blades outstretched to either side of her, chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion.
Something like joy filtered into her chest - this, at least, she still had, even if her control of the force was intermittant.
"Did I lose any limbs?"
Obi’s smile was very wide. God, that had just been fantastic. “None,” he said, walking back to her, ready to take his lightsaber when it was offered. “Such a beautiful weapon. So... civilized. The lightsaber is a work of art.”
"Better than guns or blasters," She agreed. The sentiment spoke to her and made her smile positively beaming. She flicked the sabers off, and reverently handed Obi-wan his. She hooked her own to her belt, and gave him a formal bow. She felt...giddy.
Like its own form of muscle memory, Obi bowed right back. His grin was still wide, so much so that his face ached a little. Meetra Surik had just bowed to him.
“I’d like to give some one-on-one sparring a try,” he said, “But I have to tell you that I’m not as naturally talented with this as you. I’ve been practicing with a bo staff, but... well, there’s no risk losing an arm there. Perhaps we could meet again, and you could... instruct me?”
"If you have some time I can give you some basic lessons before we part," Meetra replied. She was eager to teach, to train again. It was such an ingrained part of her being that her body practically sung out at the prospect.
Obi was not sure where his breath had run off to, but it was suddenly gone. “Really?” he coughed. “Oh my goodness. Yes, absolutely.”
For a long time now, he had complained about being a padawan without a Master. Of course, this was not the same thing--not yet--but his heart was pounding mercilessly. In fact, he felt dizzy with anticipation and joy already.
“I would be honored,” he said.