Archive: M_A, sure, anyone else just ask.
Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/keelywolfe/
Rating: R
Category: Drama, Angst, POV (Obi-Wan)
Feedback: You know I love it. ;)
Summary: Set after TPM, follows canon. Only a few moments of
Obi-Wan's thoughts
Disclaimer: Owned by the mighty Lucas. Borrowed for no costs
whatsoever by the un-mighty Keelywolfe.
Notes: This story has the dubious honor of being the first
thing written on my Pocket PC, since varies forces have been
aligning against me and I haven't been writing much lately.
Anyway, enjoy. :)
There is no such thing as true perfection. In the most perfect
of gems beneath the surface of the naked eye, there are flaws,
hidden and waiting to be found. It will never know perfection
and will never know its flaws. I will never know it. Perfection
is beyond my grasp.
But I dream of it sometimes.
Once upon a time, I had something that was my treasure. Don't
we all have a treasure? Something that we have been looking for
from the moment we left the womb, wet and bloody and cold, and
already in search of something that we might well never find.
A treasure.
I found mine when I was still so very young and that was a
blessing and a curse. No longer did I have to search, what
might have been a life's pursuit was ended when I was young
enough to enjoy it and too young to appreciate it. Too young to
protect it.
Treasure always invites thieves.
Women with dark eyes and many-hued skin, soft lips with
wordless invitations. Men, harder than women, stronger and just
as beautiful and enticing in their own way.
Thieves, all of them.
But what they sought to steal was not so easily swayed, again
my blessing, my curse, that someone had held this treasure
once, with rough, clumsy fingers and they had dropped it,
shattered it on the cold floor.
One can repair what has been broken, but it will never be as
it once was.
But I knew that what I had found was priceless, its fractures
only making it more so and I would have given anything to
possess it, and did. I gave everything that could be wanted,
determination and need, obedience and willfulness. My mind, my
heart and eventually, my body.
Everything.
Too young, I was so young to find such a precious gift and too
young again to understand. How was it possible to be so close
to perfection and to be so cold?
Cold, cold, within and without and how can one be naked in
arms of their lover,
(master)
and be so cold? How could one be naked and sprawled on silken
sheets, scratchy blankets, cool tile, in a bedroom, in a swamp,
making love,
(fucking)
with warm, sweat slick flesh sliding against
(within)
you and still be
(cold)
cold. So cold, wintry breath of coldness within. Cold because
he was cold, distant and cold and he would take whatever I
offered, take and take and drain me dry and still he...
You.
You were cold. Mine, my master, my lover who was carved with
exquisite intricacy from ice. You were so cold to me, always.
A thief did steal you from me, one that I couldn't guard you
from. Death is a thief with cold, skilled fingers. They will
all be here soon, I have precious little time to mourn and I
see you here before me, cold to touch, always cold to me. I
look at you and wonder at what I see.
What was I to you? An apprentice, a convenience, a nuisance.
What did you see when you looked at me, that you held nothing
for me within but ice. I was nothing that you loved, nothing at
all.
But even now, you look to me like something that was my
treasure.
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