(no subject)
Characters: Ben (marrymarajade ) and his other. SHORT SOLO LOG.
Date/Time: Sunday the 13th, early.
Location: Fairly high in the Tree, but not in the wild parts.
Rating: Ah - PG. Doesn't get graphic.
Summary: A Ben afflicted with Wardrobe Malfunction, wearing this fetching uniform, searches for his other... and finds him. Sort of.
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Ben had awakened in a dark uniform with a brimmed cap. It wasn't quite enough for this weather, at least to him - he was most comfortable at temperatures that had others complaining about the heat - but at least his cloak fit over it, even if he couldn't seem to keep the hood up. It fit well, though he wasn't entirely comfortable in it. He walked through fresh snow, searching not with eyes or ears but with the Force. At this hour, there were fewer waking senses to get in the way.
Where are you? What do you want? Ben sent those thoughts out, not knowing if they would find his other, if his other would respond. His talent for finding things wasn't working. Blocked, countered. When he cast out with his mind, he couldn't find anything but the senses of the people here. So this was probably futile.
But still, he found that buzz that made his teeth ache, and something twanging, and Ben turned. The twanging sensation came again, urging him to look up.
There, perched carelessly on a higher branch, was his other, dressed as Ben was, snowflakes speckling his clothing, breath steaming out into the still air. He'd taken the empty scabbard off of his uniform and put a silver hilt in its place. For a moment they locked eyes. His other's were paler, wilder; he smiled, but it didn't change those eyes.
And then he was moving, pushing off, turning a flip in midair, and landing less than a meter in front of Ben. He threw a punch, but despite the buzzing in his skull Ben dodged and countered, trying to hook his other's ankle with his own. His other's feet were swept from under him, but he was able to seize one of the loops on Ben's shoulders, catching himself with one hand and slapping Ben soundly on the temple, where he'd taken a blow in Silent Hill.
Ben's knees buckled; his other's boots hit the ground again and he shoved, finding just the right leverage to throw Ben off his feet. His back hit the tree and there were his other's arms, pinning him with an iron grip, right hand at his throat, left on his ribs. Ben seized his other's right wrist, but didn't move past that.
The exchange had taken seconds.
For a moment they held still, both of them, mirror images breathing hard and staring into each other's faces. At last his other broke the silence.
"What I want," he said, the strange smile dawning again, "is what you take for granted. But it's not going to happen, is it?"
"I don't understand." He couldn't speak coherently in this position; he had to use the Force. Ben was struck by the feeling of his other's sense. There was the buzzing, the resonance that made it hard to concentrate... But beneath it, yawning in a great chasm, there was-
"Of course you don't," his other said mockingly. He had Ben's voice, but with different qualities behind it. He spoke more roughly, louder. "And you never will, Jedi." The hand at Ben's throat didn't move, but his left hand pulled away, went for the cylinder at his waist.
Ben acted, kicking out with both feet into his other's stomach, knocking him back. The hand at Ben's throat opened; he recovered his footing and swung a right hook into his other's chin, but his follow up - his follow up passed through a twin who had turned to particles of light.
"You thought I was even there, Jedi?" His other laughed, his form and the light fading away with the buzzing of his presence, the laughter lingering about as long. A doppelganger. Ben was left standing alone, the only evidence of that quick struggle the red handprint on his face, a bruise on his throat, and the footprints in the snow, slowly being erased by falling flakes.
Date/Time: Sunday the 13th, early.
Location: Fairly high in the Tree, but not in the wild parts.
Rating: Ah - PG. Doesn't get graphic.
Summary: A Ben afflicted with Wardrobe Malfunction, wearing this fetching uniform, searches for his other... and finds him. Sort of.
--------
Ben had awakened in a dark uniform with a brimmed cap. It wasn't quite enough for this weather, at least to him - he was most comfortable at temperatures that had others complaining about the heat - but at least his cloak fit over it, even if he couldn't seem to keep the hood up. It fit well, though he wasn't entirely comfortable in it. He walked through fresh snow, searching not with eyes or ears but with the Force. At this hour, there were fewer waking senses to get in the way.
Where are you? What do you want? Ben sent those thoughts out, not knowing if they would find his other, if his other would respond. His talent for finding things wasn't working. Blocked, countered. When he cast out with his mind, he couldn't find anything but the senses of the people here. So this was probably futile.
But still, he found that buzz that made his teeth ache, and something twanging, and Ben turned. The twanging sensation came again, urging him to look up.
There, perched carelessly on a higher branch, was his other, dressed as Ben was, snowflakes speckling his clothing, breath steaming out into the still air. He'd taken the empty scabbard off of his uniform and put a silver hilt in its place. For a moment they locked eyes. His other's were paler, wilder; he smiled, but it didn't change those eyes.
And then he was moving, pushing off, turning a flip in midair, and landing less than a meter in front of Ben. He threw a punch, but despite the buzzing in his skull Ben dodged and countered, trying to hook his other's ankle with his own. His other's feet were swept from under him, but he was able to seize one of the loops on Ben's shoulders, catching himself with one hand and slapping Ben soundly on the temple, where he'd taken a blow in Silent Hill.
Ben's knees buckled; his other's boots hit the ground again and he shoved, finding just the right leverage to throw Ben off his feet. His back hit the tree and there were his other's arms, pinning him with an iron grip, right hand at his throat, left on his ribs. Ben seized his other's right wrist, but didn't move past that.
The exchange had taken seconds.
For a moment they held still, both of them, mirror images breathing hard and staring into each other's faces. At last his other broke the silence.
"What I want," he said, the strange smile dawning again, "is what you take for granted. But it's not going to happen, is it?"
"I don't understand." He couldn't speak coherently in this position; he had to use the Force. Ben was struck by the feeling of his other's sense. There was the buzzing, the resonance that made it hard to concentrate... But beneath it, yawning in a great chasm, there was-
"Of course you don't," his other said mockingly. He had Ben's voice, but with different qualities behind it. He spoke more roughly, louder. "And you never will, Jedi." The hand at Ben's throat didn't move, but his left hand pulled away, went for the cylinder at his waist.
Ben acted, kicking out with both feet into his other's stomach, knocking him back. The hand at Ben's throat opened; he recovered his footing and swung a right hook into his other's chin, but his follow up - his follow up passed through a twin who had turned to particles of light.
"You thought I was even there, Jedi?" His other laughed, his form and the light fading away with the buzzing of his presence, the laughter lingering about as long. A doppelganger. Ben was left standing alone, the only evidence of that quick struggle the red handprint on his face, a bruise on his throat, and the footprints in the snow, slowly being erased by falling flakes.