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neverlosemyfocusThis was Siri’s first time on Naboo. Despite everything; the reason she was there, the turmoil of her thoughts... she found she liked it there. It was a beautiful planet, and its being so very different from Coruscant was something she sorely needed. But it was so... quiet. On Coruscant there had always been... noise, in the Force. So many sentient beings living in one place, there was no way to avoid it. On Naboo it was... almost silent, in comparison. And it wasn’t helping matters any.
She’d been keeping to herself more than she probably should have. But she wasn’t sleeping well, and there was so much she needed to figure out in her own mind that she found herself... withdrawing. There was no need for her to intrude on Anakin and Padme’s newfound ability to be open with their relationship. Their marriage. And Obi-Wan... well, there was a lot of confusion in relation to him. Confusion she would rather keep to herself until she’d sorted it all out. If she ever sorted it out. There wasn’t really any question what they felt for each other, their attachment. That had been made perfectly clear the night they... the night she took him to her bed. The night he came to her bed. But where did that leave them?
They weren’t Jedi anymore. They’d been expelled. They were exiles. Their agreement was, essentially, null and void. And she was... she was... Just because she was with child, and Obi-Wan was the father, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything.
It felt... odd, being out of her robes. Not so much not wearing them; she’d done so before. But they weren’t hers to wear anymore. She wasn’t a Jedi. She would never wear them again. And that only added to the guilt and shame and unease. When Padmé had suggested that she try the style of clothing worn on Naboo she’d leapt at it, more because she’d needed to do SOMEthing; she would need clothes, after all, and the style was something she was familiar with.
Wearing it, however, was breathtakingly different. There was so much flowing fabric, and beading, and embroidery – it was so DELICATE. She felt awkward and out of place in it, but continued to wear it anyway. She needed to adapt. To accept what was, and this was a step. One of many she needed to take.
There was an area overlooking the lake that she had taken to walking. It was quiet, and peaceful... and absolutely beautiful. As she so often did anymore, she leaned against the cool stone of the railing and pressed her hands against her stomach. There was no physical changes, yet, none that were visible; it was too early for that. But there would be, soon enough.
She’d been keeping to herself more than she probably should have. But she wasn’t sleeping well, and there was so much she needed to figure out in her own mind that she found herself... withdrawing. There was no need for her to intrude on Anakin and Padme’s newfound ability to be open with their relationship. Their marriage. And Obi-Wan... well, there was a lot of confusion in relation to him. Confusion she would rather keep to herself until she’d sorted it all out. If she ever sorted it out. There wasn’t really any question what they felt for each other, their attachment. That had been made perfectly clear the night they... the night she took him to her bed. The night he came to her bed. But where did that leave them?
They weren’t Jedi anymore. They’d been expelled. They were exiles. Their agreement was, essentially, null and void. And she was... she was... Just because she was with child, and Obi-Wan was the father, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything.
It felt... odd, being out of her robes. Not so much not wearing them; she’d done so before. But they weren’t hers to wear anymore. She wasn’t a Jedi. She would never wear them again. And that only added to the guilt and shame and unease. When Padmé had suggested that she try the style of clothing worn on Naboo she’d leapt at it, more because she’d needed to do SOMEthing; she would need clothes, after all, and the style was something she was familiar with.
Wearing it, however, was breathtakingly different. There was so much flowing fabric, and beading, and embroidery – it was so DELICATE. She felt awkward and out of place in it, but continued to wear it anyway. She needed to adapt. To accept what was, and this was a step. One of many she needed to take.
There was an area overlooking the lake that she had taken to walking. It was quiet, and peaceful... and absolutely beautiful. As she so often did anymore, she leaned against the cool stone of the railing and pressed her hands against her stomach. There was no physical changes, yet, none that were visible; it was too early for that. But there would be, soon enough.