(no subject)
Space was now quite plainly at a premium, and Qui-Gon had positioned himself as near to the cave entrance as he dared, grateful for the occasional breath of fresh--if unquestionably damp--air. He kept his expression more carefully neutral than usual, keeping his own private discomforts caught firmly behind a useful reservoir of characteristic reserve. He had yet to confirm Obi-Wan's presence in either the caves or the lower levels of the compound. Admittedly, Obi-Wan's activities were not his business. His former student hadn't any trouble at all taking care of himself, and in fact insisted upon doing so with a measure of self-possession just shy of quiet defiance. Besides that... Well, Obi-Wan had made something of a history of being impossible to find when he did not wish to be found, ever since his arrival here. Qui-Gon thought perhaps he could count each separate time they had spoken together, enumerate them in order and thereby map the less organized movements of his own heart.
With an inward sigh, he shifted a bit to brace his lower back against the cave wall, watching the wind sweep the falling water horizontal. His shoulder ached persistently. He recognized the responsible injury easily enough, as it had been a particularly terrible one, but he could not recall the weather affecting it so strongly in any year preceding this. Yet more evidence of his increasing age, he supposed, with a very wry sort of resignation. He was struck by the sudden thought that even given the differences in year length and daily cycles between this world and his own, the day of his birth must surely have already passed.
To be followed in a scant few months by the anniversary of his death, as he had realized while speaking with Abby yesterday evening. Thank the Force that the celebration of that event would be unnecessary.
With an inward sigh, he shifted a bit to brace his lower back against the cave wall, watching the wind sweep the falling water horizontal. His shoulder ached persistently. He recognized the responsible injury easily enough, as it had been a particularly terrible one, but he could not recall the weather affecting it so strongly in any year preceding this. Yet more evidence of his increasing age, he supposed, with a very wry sort of resignation. He was struck by the sudden thought that even given the differences in year length and daily cycles between this world and his own, the day of his birth must surely have already passed.
To be followed in a scant few months by the anniversary of his death, as he had realized while speaking with Abby yesterday evening. Thank the Force that the celebration of that event would be unnecessary.