Master
Apprentice  Archive
Snapshots: Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is your life
(February 2001)
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Author's webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Archive: yes
Rating: G - NC17
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Feedback is always appreciated
Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece stands alone. The snapshots will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several pages long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut, many will not; they will be different styles with different voices.
Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
February 01, 2001
Obi-Wan has long since tuned out the endless droning talk. Instead he was following the path of a bead of sweat that had started at his neck, but was now sliding between his shoulder blades and down his back. Time seemed to have stilled and it took a long time before the sweat drop encountered the material of his tunic at his waist and was absorbed into the growing wetness there.
It was overly warm in the Talking Centre where the five sides of a heated and often violent conflict were making an attempt at a peace treaty. Though none of the Denian's seemed to mind the temperature, both Obi-Wan and his master would arrive at their quarters at the end of day completely sodden from their own sweat despite their training in body temperature control.
It seemed worse today; it was not yet midday and already his tunic was quite wet. Even his hair, short as it was, felt damp and he barely managed to resist wrinkling his nose at the smell of himself.
On and on the members of the five tribes argued, shouting over each other. Obi-Wan tried to follow what was being said, but the heat was affecting his hearing today and only his master's voice seemed to resonate with meaning and soon even that was relegated to noise.
The round table they sat at seemed to waver and Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, realising he'd been about to fall asleep. He began to count to a thousand in all the languages he knew.
"Padawan!" His master's tone seemed harsh and Obi-Wan looked up; had he been counting out loud?
"Break for midday meal," Qui-Gon told him; his hand was hot on Obi-Wan's arm. "You look rather more peaked than usual today. Perhaps a trip to the gardens will bring us some relief from this everlasting heat."
"Yes, Master," he replied dutifully, though he wanted nothing more than to return to their quarters and sleep. He tried to stand, but couldn't seem to quite manage it and he wondered if the heat and his own sweat had glued him to his seat. The thought made him giggle, though the sound seemed a long way off. Perhaps he'd said it out loud and his master was the one giggling. But that wasn't right, Jedi Masters didn't giggle.
"Padawan!"
His master's voice galvanized him and he found the strength to get out of his chair despite the glue, and just why was he glued to his chair anyway?
As he stood the world wavered and shimmered and he felt as if he were floating on a cloud. It felt so good, he decided to lie back on it. He worried for a moment that the cloud would not hold him and he would fall, but then he felt his master's arms catch him and, closing his eyes, he let go.
February 02, 2001
Obi-Wan stretched in advance of performing the First Kata. His master had cleared the common room, pilling the furniture in the kitchen. Obi-Wan had smiled and told him the training salles were more than adequate for his needs, but Qui-Gon had hesitated and in those quiet seconds Obi-Wan realised that his master was not yet ready to watch him perform in public.
The First Kata was exactly that, the first kata learned by the youngest of the initiates; it formed the basis of every kata to come and incorporated all the basic moves one needed for the lightsaber. It seemed the best place to start -he joked he could do the moves in his sleep, so surely he should be able to repeat them without his sight.
As he ran through several more stretches, folding his upper body down over his legs, he realised that he was stalling, using the stationary limbering exercises as an excuse not to move into the kata itself. His master was watching him, he could feel Qui-Gon's quiet presence, could feel the intensity of his master's gaze and it spurred him to overcome his fears. He could do this; for Qui-Gon he would do this and do it well.
He stood, assuming the first position, arms held out, feet slightly spread. He could feel the air moving around him, he could hear the empty spaces of the room, beckoning him to begin, to move within their confines and learn again to dance.
He began. Moving slowly, the positions flowing from one to the other with an ease born of familiarity and confidence, Obi-Wan completed the kata at regular speed and then repeated it at double speed.
Joy began to build within him as he worked through the kata once more, moving even faster this time, working toward enhanced speed. He could feel the sweat building up on his skin, marking his effort, could feel the cool kiss of the air against him. His joy spilled out as laughter; he didn't need to see, didn't need eyes to use his body, to touch the Force, to live!
Finally, exhausted, he slowed, moving through the kata, one last time, at half speed. Coming to a stop, body once more in the opening position, he held his head high, face turning automatically to where he felt his master's presence. There was no surprise as Qui-Gon cupped his cheek, caressing him with gentle fingertips.
"Well done, Padawan."
And if Qui-Gon's voice was thick with tears, Obi-Wan didn't mention it, knowing his own eyes, hidden though they might be, were overly bright with happiness.
February 03, 2001
Obi-Wan wrestled with his covers, pushing the corners beneath the mattress. As Master Ynee came in he gave a last, ineffectual swipe at the wrinkles across the top of the bed.
Looking over at Te-Anzl's bed, he sighed in envy. His own bed never looked new like that, no matter how hard he tried.
Master Ynee arrived at his bedside and Obi-Wan looked up at her, apologizing with his eyes. She slid her hand gently over his shoulder and glanced across at the bed beside his own.
"Te-Anzl is almost old enough to be a padawan. When you're that old, I'll wager you'll be able to make your bed with the same skill."
Obi-Wan smiled, but then a frown crossed his face.
"What is it, Obi-Wan?"
"I didn't think Jedi were supposed to gamble."
February 04, 2001
Obi-Wan took the box from his master's hands.
"That's the last of it," said Qui-Gon. He looked around the room with a smile. "It's good to have this room used again."
"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, returning the smile with a tentative one of his own.
"I'll let you get settled then." With a final smile, Qui-Gon left.
Obi-Wan quickly moved his things from their boxes to their new homes, leaving the box from the quartermaster's to last. He took out his new uniforms, examining each detail before putting them in the closet. The last items in the box were the sheets and covers for his new bed.
He made the bed slowly, taking his time. Carefully he smoothed the covers over the mattress, efficiently tucking the corners beneath it. Task complete, he looked around, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Perfect.
He smoothed the bed covers one last time and began to remove his initiate whites.
He was a padawan now.
February 05, 2001
Obi-Wan quietly made his way through the quarters he shared with his master, performing his chores. He saved his favourite for last -making his master's bed.
He fluffed the pillows and billowed the sheets, airing them out; they smelled of his master. He completed the task slowly, enjoying the feeling of being in this room that felt so much like Qui-Gon. He was tucking in the last corner when he felt his master's eyes on him.
Straightening, he turned his head. "Master?"
Qui-Gon came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Obi-Wan, you didn't have to do this."
"Why not?"
"Because...because you cannot see."
Obi-Wan leaned over and ran his hand over the sheets. "No wrinkles," he said, half statement, half questions.
"No, no wrinkles," agreed his master.
February 06, 2001
"Is there a problem?"
"I need to make the bed."
"Don't let me stop you."
"You're in the middle of it, Master."
"And what does that tell you?"
"That I should make it later?"
"What else does it tell you?"
"That I should stop trying to start the day and come back to bed?"
"Very good, Padawan, come and get your prize."
"Oh Master! What a big prize that is."
February 07, 2001
Obi-Wan heard the front door close, followed by his master's voice.
"Obi-Wan?"
"In here, Master."
He was caught off guard as Qui-Gon barrelled into him from behind, throwing him to the bed. His master was a heavy, welcome weight on his back and long legs framed his own. Soft lips and wet tongue trailed over the back of his neck and then Qui-Gon blew gently and Obi-Wan shivered as sweet chills raced down his body. His own shaft hardened, matching the swell of Qui-Gon's flesh against his buttocks.
Qui-Gon rolled them over and shifted Obi-Wan atop his body and rolled them over again until they were lying face to face, side by side, bodies pressed together. His master's hands roamed over his body, insinuating themselves into Obi-Wan's tunics and rubbing against his skin. Obi-Wan gave Qui-Gon a rueful smile, even as his body arched up in response.
"What have you got against me making the bed?"
February 08, 2001
Obi-Wan came out of the fresher to find Anakin tugging at the corners of his sheets, working to slide them under the mattress.
"Just finishing up, Master."
Obi-Wan smoothed his hand across the wrinkle-free sheets. "Nicely done, Padawan. I assume you've done the rest of your chores as well."
"Yes, Master," replied Anakin. The boy was all but vibrating in place and Obi-Wan could tell it was costing him a great deal of effort not to move.
"You have a free day today, and I'm guessing you have plans."
"Yes, Master. Padawan Lasat has tickets to the Alosinian Carnival. I've never been to a carnival before but it sounds wizard!"
"Very well, you may go. But Anakin," the boy stopped mid-flight and turned back to him, "no need to set any speed records getting there."
"Yes, Master Obi-Wan." The boy grinned at him and took off, the door to their quarters slamming in his wake.
Obi-Wan smiled, the boy's enthusiasm was contagious. He looked down at the bed, its covers prim and neat. His smile grew into a grin and he leapt onto the bed, landing on his rump in the middle of it. He wriggled for a moment and then climbed back off.
Grabbing his robe, he tossed it over his shoulder and sauntered from the room.
February 09, 2001
"The situation is impossible, Master."
"Difficult perhaps, but certainly not impossible."
"But if we grant the land to the Sorians the Brastin will declare war and if we grant it to the Brastin's -well then the Sorian's will. Not choosing won't help, both sides have made it clear that they are determined to fight if they are not awarded the land. And this particular piece cannot be split up."
"A quite accurate synopsis of the situation, Padawan."
"You want a synopsis, how about -we're dammed if we do, we're dammed if we don't. How can there be a solution?"
"You listen to your heart and to the Force and follow them in your decision."
"But no matter which course is chosen, it will leave this planet at war."
"Yes, but if you make the decision that you believe is right, it will help you accept the consequences. In the end, that is all you can do."
"I'm not sure I understand, Master."
"People are going to die. You have to live with that. I have to live with that. We must choose the more just path."
"We cannot decide which war is more just!"
"Then, Padawan, we must decide not to act."
"But they're still going to go to war."
"You've just said that they'll do that no matter what we choose."
"Yes, Master."
"So what would choosing do?"
"Make our choice the reason for them to fight."
"Indeed."
"So we don't award the land to either of them and they start to kill each other. It sucks."
"Yes, Obi-Wan, it does."
February 10, 2001
Obi-Wan could feel the grass against his back. Each blade rubbed his skin through his tunic, like a thousand fingers caressing him. The heat of the sun warmed his face, like the soft touch of his master's hand.
The quiet whisper of water rushing along its banks filled his ears, nature's breath, matching the gentle susurrations of his master beside him. He could hear bird song and footsteps in the distance.
The sharp perfume of blooming flowers only partially covered the subtler scents of grass and trees and pure, fresh air. His master's scent was there too; it felt strange to be noticing it and yet he found it totally familiar.
The entire garden was alive; a feast for his senses that he had never truly appreciated before -always letting his eyes eat greedily while his other senses starved.
It was a good thing, this new insight.
February 11, 2001
"Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"If I can't have a tattoo, how about a piercing?"
"What kind did you have in mind?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well there are all sorts of piercings available to a young man such as yourself. Nipple bars, navel piercing, Prince Alberts, guiche piercings, anal piercings, frenum or scrotal ladders, prince's wands..."
"You're making those up."
"I am not. The temple database should have something; let me just bring it up.... Here you go, see for yourself."
[silence]
"Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"I'd like to withdraw the request."
"As you wish."
February 12, 2001
Obi-Wan straddled his master's waist, his hands holding Qui-Gon's arms over his master's head.
"I've got you," he crowed.
"Now what are you going to do with me?"
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed and he looked up at his hands and down at his legs. He had his master all right, after several years of wrestling he'd finally come out on top. Only he was as stuck as Qui-Gon; if he shifted his weight, his master would be able to buck him off and there was no way he could hold both of his master's arms down with only one of his own hands, let alone successfully make the transfer. He hung his head.
"I haven't got you," he ventured quietly.
"No, you were quite right the first time," Qui-Gon told him. "But what if the only other being, or beings around are my allies? And even if it is just we two, all I have to do is wait until you're tired out -I'm just lying here resting as you do all the work of holding me in place. So you've got me trapped, but not pinned."
Obi-Wan sighed and let his master up.
"Don't look so glum, Padawan, you'll get me eventually."
"Yes, Master."
February 13, 2001
Obi-Wan straddled his master's waist, his hands holding Qui-Gon's arms over his master's head.
"I've got you," he crowed.
"Now what are you going to do with me?"
Obi-Wan laughed and wriggled back, enjoying the sensation of Qui-Gon's skin against his own, until his master's erection was snugged up against his bottom. A quiver went through Qui-Gon's body and he gasped.
"I've got you right where I want you," said Obi-Wan. He raised his body and then, with judicious application of the Force, sat back down, taking his master's shaft inside himself.
They each moaned, the sounds -baritone and tenor- melding together to make a note comprised of them both.
Bracing himself on his master's arms, Obi-Wan began to move up and down, Qui-Gon's shaft sliding in and out of his body. His master moaned and tried to shift, but Obi-Wan held him down, still doing all the work himself.
Qui-Gon was, however, a Jedi Master and soon Obi-Wan felt Force fingers take a hold of his shaft, stroking him sensuously.
"Cheater," Obi-Wan whispered as he came, body unable to endure the dual sensations of his master within and without his body. He could feel Qui-Gon's completion fill him and then he collapsed onto his master; both pinned by their love for each other.
February 14, 2001
"What's this?" asked Obi-Wan as his master handed him a glass vase full of colours.
"It is a bouquet of rainbows," replied Qui-Gon. "The Doyans make them out of spun glass."
"Thank you, Master," replied Obi-Wan dryly. "They are very beautiful. Is there a reason you're giving them to me?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. The Doyans call today 'Inalayanam' -the day of love. Traditionally they reflect on love and gift those in their lives with tokens."
"They spend an entire day reflecting on the love in their lives?"
"Indeed."
"Just the one day?"
"So it would seem."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Master, I touch upon our love at morning and evening meditation; I cannot imagine it colouring anything less than all of my life."
"Which is why I gave you the bouquet of rainbows -you are a part of my life the way the colours make up a rainbow. But Padawan, you should find something positive in the Doyans' Inalayanam; it isn't out place to judge."
"I think I have, Master," replied Obi-Wan with a wicked grin.
"Oh?"
"Yes, Master. It seems to that it would be appropriate, in fact maybe even our duty, to make love today. All day."
February 15, 2001
Luke ran through the swamps, Yoda on his back, the two bickering loudly.
Obi-Wan sighed and leaned into the energy that held his lover's essence.
"It's his way," Qui-Gon said softly into his mind.
Obi-Wan nodded, well acquainted with the irascible old Master. "I know."
The hold tightened, became closer to a hug. "Regrets?" asked his lover.
"Only that I never got to call him Padawan."
February 16, 2001
Aya worked quickly, efficiently emptying bags and tossing the linens into machines, separating them first by colour. She tsked as she came across a bag full of badly stained uniforms, and not even pre-treated either -they thought she was a miracle-worker these Jedi.
She moved stiffly over to the treatment sink where a closer look revealed the stains to be blood, and quite a bit of it at that.
She had a feeling she knew who the laundry belonged to. Checking the tag on the bag, she clucked her tongue and shook her head as her guess was proven correct. She was amazed these two weren't dead yet, considering the state their clothes were often in. It was because of them she ordered the oversized jugs of protein remover.
Of course it was better than the alternative; there was always the chance this would be the last bag of laundry she'd do for Jinn/Kenobi 12C.
February 17, 2001
Obi-Wan stood at the top of the hill at Qui-Gon's side. Mist, foggy vapours, shifted and slid, moving slowly across the landscape it obscured. His lightsaber, as yet unlit, was a familiar weight in his hand; it steadied him, as did the presence of the man beside him.
Behind them stood the Prinali village, small huts dotting the landscape like upturned bowls, its people still sleeping in the misty dawn. They would wake with the coming sun, or not, depending on how he and Qui-Gon managed against the Trovath hordes who waited for the mist to clear. The Prinali would not fight, they were a people of peace, even if that peace meant their own deaths and the deaths of their children. Obi-Wan knew how hard such absolutes were and admired them even as they despised him for his willingness to pick up a weapon in their defence.
He could feel the Trovath, with their weapons and their hate, filling the valley below. The mist might obscure the sight of them, but not their menace. As the sun's warmth began to slowly dissipate the low clouds, Obi-Wan brought his lightsaber to life, hearing the comforting hum that meant his master had done the same.
The stood side by side, ready to whatever the sun revealed.
"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon's voice was a calm balm.
"And with you, Master," he responded.
February 18, 2001
Obi-Wan deep-throated his master. Steel beneath silk, all heat, burned his lips, filled his mouth and touched the back of his throat. His master's scent, strong and pure, tickled his nose along with the short wiry hairs at Qui-Gon's groin.
He pulled his head back, letting the large shaft slide from his mouth until he held only the tip between his lips. Running his tongue across the small slit, he tasted the tiny drops that slid from it, their flavour moving across his tongue.
He took the length back in until it was once more completely seated in his mouth. Beginning to suck, he bobbed his head over his master's groin, sliding Qui-Gon's erection in and out of his mouth. His master came, hot liquid pouring down his throat.
Obi-Wan choked, coming awake with a strangled cry as his orgasm slammed through his body. He gasped, looking around wildly in the darkness as he registered the growing cold, wetness at his groin. His master's shaft was not in his mouth, in fact his master wasn't in the bed with him at all, but as he calmed his own breathing he could hear a faint snore from Qui-Gon's bedroom.
Obi-Wan removed his sleeping pants and dabbed at the come at his groin. Perhaps it was time to approach his master regarding his feelings, given his love, deep and abiding, was now being joined by lust, deep and uncontrollable.
February 19, 2001
"Obi-Wan, have you seen Puffy?"
"Puffy, Master?"
"Yes, she's a baby meowl; her mother was squished under a temple air-car, and I felt it our duty to care for her until she was old enough to fend for herself. I brought her home last night. Where could she be hiding?"
"Oh dear."
"Obi-Wan?"
"Is she about a hand span across?"
"One of your hands, yes."
"Oh dear."
"Obi-Wan?"
"You say you brought her home last night? You didn't leave her in the kitchen did you?"
"Yes, by the heater."
"Oh dear."
"You keep saying that, Padawan, is there a problem?"
[mutter]
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?"
"I said, I wondered why Necklace didn't want her treat this morning."
"Padawan your snake eats insects, even baby meowls are safe from her."
[mutter]
"Do speak up, Obi-Wan."
"I kind of trained her to eat small animals, for when we're away on missions, so I can just leave her a sewaratt or loofapig or two."
"Are you trying to tell me your snake ate my meowl?"
[mutter]
"Padawan."
"Yes, Master, it would seem so."
February 20, 2001
Obi-Wan bit his lips and watched Master Ynee and Master Saluth spoke, their heads close. Master Saluth, the art teacher this rotation, had come in a few minutes ago, the picture Obi-Wan had drawn that afternoon in his hand. He and Master Ynee glanced now and then in Obi-Wan's direction while they talked.
He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong; he ran over the day as he slowly changed into his sleeping clothes and watched the two masters from beneath his lids.
Finally they made their way toward him and Obi-Wan swallowed, smoothing down his clothes with damp hands. This was it, even if he still didn't know what he'd done. He could see the other initiates point and whisper as the masters neared.
"Obi-Wan," said Master Ynee, sitting on his bed and patting the empty space next to heried about you, Obi-Wan."
"I didn't do anything!" he insisted.
"Of course not," agreed Master Ynee, patting his shoulder. "Can you tell us why this picture was done all in black?"
"Why it's all black?"
"Yes. It's okay, Obi-Wan you can tell us."
"Because Bruck took all the crayons and that's the only one he'd let me use."
February 21, 2001
"And that," said Qui-Gon quietly, looking around at the assembled padawans, all with wide eyes, "is how the dust bunnies at Padawan Terinth."
"Is there really such a thing as dust bunnies," asked Bant in a whisper.
"Oh yes," replied Qui-Gon, suppressing his smile as her fin slid into Obi-Wan's hand. He noted his own padawan's eyes were perhaps the widest of them all. "And they like the taste of fresh young padawan the best."
There was a collective gasp and a single soft, but clear, scoff. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows and turned toward the single padawan who seemed unimpressed with his tale.
"You're all a bunch of babies," Bruck told them. "He's just telling stories to scare you."
As the others turned back to face him, Qui-Gon projected a loud growl, making it sound as if it were coming from directly behind the doubting padawan. They all screamed and Qui-Gon found himself with a lap full of clinging boy.
"I didn't think you could move that quickly, Bruck," said Obi-Wan, giggling.
February 22, 2001
Obi-Wan entered the quarters he shared with his master, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the light level.
"Are those candles?" he asked, going over to the table where two fat white cylinders sat, flames dancing on the tops.
"Yes, I picked them up while we were on Delao."
"Very nice," said Obi-Wan, his voice dropping, rumbling seductively through his chest. "Is this a special meal?"
"Oh. Well, I suppose it could be."
"If it's not for a romantic dinner, why the candles?"
"Practice," mumbled his master, looking both contrite and stern.
"Practice?"
"Yes, in using the Force to ignite and extinguish flames."
"With a romantic dinner as an incentive?"
"I have to admit, Obi-Wan, there is no romantic dinner." At Obi-Wan's crestfallen expression, he continued, "but I'd be willing to drip the hot wax in erotic sigils on your skin later tonight."
February 23, 2001
My master lied to me. Not that this surprises me, my Lord Sidious is nothing if not a liar; a skill he has honed and sharpened and practices with silken ease. He told me these Jedi were strong, that they would be hard to beat.
Already the pup is down, a simple kick sending him plummeting from the platform and infuriating the master. He fights now with anger in his heart. My victory is within my grasp.
I thought it would be hard. I thought I might taste defeat, just a touch of the flavour of it to temper the sweetness of my victory. But they have made it easy for me.
I thought these Jedi were tough. I was told these Jedi were tough; my master lied to me.
February 24, 2001
We both undress, and I watch him from the corner of my eye, still unable to fully believe that we are doing this. I look again, I can't help myself, it is the first time I've seen my master completely naked.
Force! Look at that. It's big. It's so big. I don't think I've ever seen one so big. And long. I want to ask how he got it. I want to touch it; to see if it's nobbly or smooth under my fingertips.
I wonder if I'll ever have one like it. The thought sobers me quickly and I look down at my own skin, smooth and unmarred by the scars that tell the tales of his body.
"Come, Padawan," he says and I nod, following him as he wades into the mud of the supposedly mighty Eliaan River, joining the Council of Elders who insisted negotiations could not begin without the ceremonial bath in the river. I'd be more convinced of its necessity were there any actual water.
Despite my distraction with the official mud, I make a mental note to ask my master about the scar that has me so fascinated.
February 25, 2001
Obi-Wan realised he was holding onto his master's hand as if it were a lifeline, that he was so tense he was almost vibrating in place. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calmness as the bandages were slowly removed.
He had thought that he'd come to accept his blindness, temporary though it was supposed to be. He had believed that he'd managed to turn it into a positive, finding new ways to see, getting a deeper connection to the Force. But now that he was sitting here, the final verdict about to be handed down, he was scared.
Qui-Gon squeezed his hand and it pushed the fear back, allowing him to find an inner serenity that echoed his outward calm. He closed his eyes beneath the bandages, opening himself to the sounds and smells around him, to the way the Force moved in this place of healing.
"There we are," said Te-Sin, though he knew the healer was finished; he had felt the end of the gauze slide down against his neck, could even now feel the air touch skin long hidden. He took a deep breath, feeling it fill his lungs, feeling the way his chest moved within his tunics. He had five senses as well as the Force he reminded himself; sight was but one of these.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes.
February 26, 2001
"Don't touch nuttin." What he thinking meesa gonna be touching? A boyo admitting to a couple-er itty bitty accidents and Jedi boyo gettin uppity.
Meesa liken Qui-Gon Jedi, but not boyo Jedi. Stupid hair an robes too big. Havin no respect for meesa, just cause meesa having mistakes. No meesa not likin 'im at all.
Heesa havin good butt though.
February 27, 2001
"Master what is that?"
"You mean the music?"
"Is that what you're calling it? 'Cause I've heard music before and that...that's not music."
"You must keep an open mind, Padawan."
"Much more of this noise and my skull will be open. Could you at least turn it down?"
"It doesn't have the same effect if it isn't sustained at a certain decibel level."
"Please, Master?"
"Very well, Padawan, just because you asked so nicely. But I think perhaps you need to learn tolerance of other cultures."
"You obviously have something in mind, Master."
"Indeed, this particular band is playing at the Palladium in two days. You will accompany me. No earplugs and no use of the Force allowed."
"Yes, Master."
February 28, 2001
"Padawan Kenobi," called Mace Windu from down the corridor. To his amazement, the boy didn't stop, he didn't turn around or give any indication at all that he'd heard the council member calling him. Windu tried again, a little louder this time. "Padawan Kenobi!"
Obi-Wan kept going. Windu ran to catch up with him, clamping his hand around the boy's arm. Obi-Wan jumped.
"Master Windu, you startled me," he yelled.
"I've been trying to get your attention for several minutes," complained Windu.
"What?" shouted Obi-Wan.
"I said, I've been trying to get your attention for several minutes." He enunciated every word, as well as raising his voice and shouting.
"You've got a case of the Sevremion minute crabs?" asked Obi-Wan in a loud voice as he inched away from the council member. Windu could see the others in the corridor give them a wider berth.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked the boy.
"You want to sing a song with me?"
"Kenobi, I think it would be a good idea if you went the healers immediately. I will inform your master."
"You want me to see feelers? And if I don't you're going to get me with a blaster?" Obi-Wan looked confused, and not a little worried, and his voice was still carrying to the far end of the hall.
"The healers! THE HEALERS!" shouted Windu.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Obi-Wan shouted back, before bowing and changing direction.
Shaking his head, Windu opened his communicator and dialled Kenobi's master.
"Hello?"
Mace quickly turned down the volume. "Qui-Gon, I need to speak to you about your padawan."
"You want to clean my lawn?"
"Your padawan. I need to speak to you about your padawan."
"You want to do what to my padawan?" Qui-Gon sounded loudly outraged. "Mace have you been drinking?" he demanded.
"No, but you and Kenobi must have been," he muttered, before shouting "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR EARS?"
"CONCERT AT THE PALADIUM," Qui-Gon shouted back. "And what's this got to do with my lawn?"
End.