Project Revision: Progress Update / finding the right foot
So. Yesterday I posted about the issues I was having with Chapter Two. A couple of you responded -- thanks, guys! Now I'm posting a very tentative solution to some of the problems (discussed in this post, where input is still very welcome!). Basically the new version takes place before the events of the original Chapter Two, and hopefully explains how we get there a little bit better. I think it's an improved way of setting up these forming relationships, and I feel cautiously good about the Obi-Wan/Yoda scene (it's always fun to put those two together), but the Anakin/Ryn dialogue could maybe use some work; I'm not sure it's capturing the sense of hesitancy that I want. And my first instinct was to tell you what I'm trying to show in the scenes and to ask if it worked … but on further reflection, a better test might be to see first what you see happening in those scenes without knowing in advance what I'm hoping you'll find. So: explore, and let me know!
And before I forget, special thanks to
estora and
chameleon_irony for taking the time to comment on my previous discussion (re: cry for help) post. Smiley faces all around!
i want to feel
all the chemicals inside
yeah i want to feel
i want to sunburn
just to know that i'm alive
to know i'm alive
don't tell me if i'm dying…
~ Angels on the Moon,
Thriving Ivory
________________
The first thing Obi-Wan did the next morning was to call Orun’s bluff.
He left Anakin in the Temple Archives, with instructions to learn everything he could about the planet Loreth -- which wouldn’t be much, given the isolationist tendencies of its sentient inhabitants, but it ought to keep Anakin busy for a couple of hours, and remind him (again) of the importance of developing cross-cultural understandings.
In the meantime, Obi-Wan went to see Yoda.
: : :
Obi-Wan had been right about the lack of detailed information on Loreth in the Archives. Anakin read through the main database entry in less than half an hour; it didn’t tell him much. Loreth was a small planet with an oxygen atmosphere and watery surface, both of which were strong indicators for an eco-system that would support humanoid life. The girl they had met yesterday pretty obviously fell into that category, so this wasn’t much of a surprise. What was a surprise was the total absence of trading partnerships; how did they survive out there with no interplanetary trade agreements? The records didn’t even show any raw-ore mining operations; the “EXPORTS” heading listed only handicrafts, animal pelts, finished weapons. There were no entries for “SOCIAL STRUCTURE” or “LOCAL CUSTOMS,” but the “DANGEROUS WILDLIFE” section got a workout.
The natives of Loreth are highly xenophobic, he read, scrolling carefully down the page in case Obi-Wan decided to quiz him later. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t; that was the point. A Jedi had to be ready all the time, not just when he was given fair warning. For this reason, they have little interaction with the outside galaxy, and not much is known about their native culture. They are human in appearance, but the presence of some genetic peculiarities has led a minority of scientists to speculate that the humans of Loreth actually represent the emergence of a distinct sub-species, developed in isolation after their world was first colonized by humans some three thousand years ago. Critics maintain that, even in strict isolation, three thousand years would not be enough to breed a genetically identifiable sub-species without the use of genomic manipulation techniques which have never been developed for the complexities of sentient use.
“Okay, so we don’t even know what they are,” Anakin muttered, disgruntled, and kept scrolling.
: : :
“Understand your concern, I do not,” Master Yoda was saying. He gave his gimer stick a thoughtful tap and looked up, tilting his head to regard Obi-Wan with wise old eyes. “What tell you your feelings, hm?”
“That I should be mindful, Master,” said Obi-Wan; not surprisingly, this rote answer failed to impress the old Jedi Master. “I’m not sure. I feel ... curious. Very alert. Almost as if I were waiting for something, or dreading it. And ... there’s something about this girl.”
Qui-Gon had said much the same thing about Anakin, once. Had he felt this, then? Obi-Wan didn’t think so. What he had felt near Orun in the garden last night had been nothing like the sense of explosive potential that always surrounded Anakin. Orun felt ... sudden and uncertain, not so much a catalyst of possibilities as a step missed in the dark, that weightless instant of disorientation. She left him with a strange urgency, an uneasy need to know.
He sighed. “I can’t even say for certain whether this prompting comes from within myself or the Force.”
“If at one with the Force you are, no difference there is,” Yoda answered sternly. “But wise is this, young Obi-Wan? Heretics, her people are. If danger you fear to your apprentice, then away we should keep them, hm? Separate.”
“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “You really think Orun is dangerous?”
It was Yoda’s turn to sigh. “Say that, I did not,” he reminded Obi-Wan, sounding weary. “Know that, I do not.” He planted his gimer stick firmly between them and leaned on it with both his ancient hands. “Sensed evil in Ryn Orun, I have not. Dedicated is she. Willing to serve, always. But trust the Jedi, she does not. And fear is a path to the dark side.” His ears flattened in admonishment. “Know this, you should.”
There could only be one answer to that. “Yes, Master.”
Yoda whacked him on the ankle with the end of his stick, apparently just for emphasis. “Hmp!” he declared imperatively. And then, obviously done with the lecture, he looked away and started walking again.
“Access to Orun’s information I can give you,” he said. “Medical files, performance records ... not secret to those authorized by the Council are these things. Arrange for her to meet with you, I can. Hm. But only you can decide what questions you must ask. And if put her in your Padawan’s path, you do -- change. Always dangerous it is.”
“Yes, Mater.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “Thank you.”
“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”
“And with you, Master.”
: : :
Anakin was reading an entry on the history of Force philosophy that had been tagged “loreth” -- half of which was security-locked, and available only by special permission from the Council -- when he saw Ryn Orun again, as though his own assignment had somehow conjured her presence.
She was standing halfway across the reading room, staring at him with a stricken look on her face. When she saw him looking back, she raised one hand in a cautious wave.
Anakin hesitated just a second, then waved back.
Their eyes met, and suddenly Ryn was coming toward him, her face set with an odd mix of fear and determination.
“Look,” she said when she reached his study niche, speaking low and quickly. “I know you’re busy. I just want to say ...” Anakin could see her throat spasm, and she stopped to swallow hard. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly husky, but her words came out more clearly, a measured cadence as she met his eyes. “I’m sorry. For yesterday. I know I made you uncomfortable, and ... I apologize.” She finished, nodding jerkily.
“...thanks,” said Anakin, a little thrown by the sense of misery leaching into the Force around her. “Me too. For knocking you down, I mean.”
“I --” For some reason, she was blushing, not so much scarlet as fuchsia. “No, that was ... fine. It was fine.” She laid one hand on the top of the abbreviated wall that separated Anakin’s study niche from the empty one to his right, gripping it tightly -- a gesture of blessing, or maybe of farewell; he didn’t know. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said unevenly, and cleared her throat. “Have a great life, Anakin Skywalker. May the Force be with you.”
She dropped her hand and turned to walk away; but in that instant, Anakin felt the source of her despair, a loneliness so acute that it seemed to overwhelm all other sense of her presence.
It reminded him of his first months in the Temple, before he met Tru. When he hadn’t made any friends and he wasn’t like the other kids ...
“Wait!” he called, earning several disapproving looks from other students nearby. But Ryn had turned back to face him, her face too carefully blank, the look of a wary creature expecting attack. “Listen,” he said, pretty sure he was going to regret this but unable to ignore her misery. “Master Obi-Wan sent me here to find out everything I could about Loreth, but ... there’s not much here. Maybe you could help me?”
She took a single step toward him, hovering on the verge of flight. “What do you want to know?”
Anakin shrugged, trying to look friendly and non-threatening. “Anything.” He tilted his head back, still seated, to look up at her. “What do you like to eat?”
There was something odd about Ryn’s smile -- slow and a little tentative, as if she knew what it was supposed to look like but wasn’t quite sure she was doing it right.
Anakin smiled back.
Her eyes lit, and the smile turned suddenly real and easy, the transformation startling as it swept over her face. Anakin felt his breath catch unexpectedly, a little hitch of surprise. And then ...
“Okay,” said Ryn.
: : :
In the city of Theed, Naboo’s young Queen fingered a necklace carved by childish hands out of a japor snippet as she prepared to pass on her throne to its next occupant. Beyond Wild Space, Kitraal Orun fought a losing battle against encroaching slave ships from the dead space between galaxies. Somewhere on a Mid-Rim world, Count Dooku of Serenno fomented dissent.
And in 500 Republica, at the heart of the Republic, a shadow brooded.
This entry was originally posted at http://wyncatastrophe.dreamwidth.org/110053.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
And before I forget, special thanks to
estora and
chameleon_irony for taking the time to comment on my previous discussion (re: cry for help) post. Smiley faces all around!
i want to feel
all the chemicals inside
yeah i want to feel
i want to sunburn
just to know that i'm alive
to know i'm alive
don't tell me if i'm dying…
~ Angels on the Moon,
Thriving Ivory
________________
The first thing Obi-Wan did the next morning was to call Orun’s bluff.
He left Anakin in the Temple Archives, with instructions to learn everything he could about the planet Loreth -- which wouldn’t be much, given the isolationist tendencies of its sentient inhabitants, but it ought to keep Anakin busy for a couple of hours, and remind him (again) of the importance of developing cross-cultural understandings.
In the meantime, Obi-Wan went to see Yoda.
: : :
Obi-Wan had been right about the lack of detailed information on Loreth in the Archives. Anakin read through the main database entry in less than half an hour; it didn’t tell him much. Loreth was a small planet with an oxygen atmosphere and watery surface, both of which were strong indicators for an eco-system that would support humanoid life. The girl they had met yesterday pretty obviously fell into that category, so this wasn’t much of a surprise. What was a surprise was the total absence of trading partnerships; how did they survive out there with no interplanetary trade agreements? The records didn’t even show any raw-ore mining operations; the “EXPORTS” heading listed only handicrafts, animal pelts, finished weapons. There were no entries for “SOCIAL STRUCTURE” or “LOCAL CUSTOMS,” but the “DANGEROUS WILDLIFE” section got a workout.
The natives of Loreth are highly xenophobic, he read, scrolling carefully down the page in case Obi-Wan decided to quiz him later. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t; that was the point. A Jedi had to be ready all the time, not just when he was given fair warning. For this reason, they have little interaction with the outside galaxy, and not much is known about their native culture. They are human in appearance, but the presence of some genetic peculiarities has led a minority of scientists to speculate that the humans of Loreth actually represent the emergence of a distinct sub-species, developed in isolation after their world was first colonized by humans some three thousand years ago. Critics maintain that, even in strict isolation, three thousand years would not be enough to breed a genetically identifiable sub-species without the use of genomic manipulation techniques which have never been developed for the complexities of sentient use.
“Okay, so we don’t even know what they are,” Anakin muttered, disgruntled, and kept scrolling.
: : :
“Understand your concern, I do not,” Master Yoda was saying. He gave his gimer stick a thoughtful tap and looked up, tilting his head to regard Obi-Wan with wise old eyes. “What tell you your feelings, hm?”
“That I should be mindful, Master,” said Obi-Wan; not surprisingly, this rote answer failed to impress the old Jedi Master. “I’m not sure. I feel ... curious. Very alert. Almost as if I were waiting for something, or dreading it. And ... there’s something about this girl.”
Qui-Gon had said much the same thing about Anakin, once. Had he felt this, then? Obi-Wan didn’t think so. What he had felt near Orun in the garden last night had been nothing like the sense of explosive potential that always surrounded Anakin. Orun felt ... sudden and uncertain, not so much a catalyst of possibilities as a step missed in the dark, that weightless instant of disorientation. She left him with a strange urgency, an uneasy need to know.
He sighed. “I can’t even say for certain whether this prompting comes from within myself or the Force.”
“If at one with the Force you are, no difference there is,” Yoda answered sternly. “But wise is this, young Obi-Wan? Heretics, her people are. If danger you fear to your apprentice, then away we should keep them, hm? Separate.”
“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “You really think Orun is dangerous?”
It was Yoda’s turn to sigh. “Say that, I did not,” he reminded Obi-Wan, sounding weary. “Know that, I do not.” He planted his gimer stick firmly between them and leaned on it with both his ancient hands. “Sensed evil in Ryn Orun, I have not. Dedicated is she. Willing to serve, always. But trust the Jedi, she does not. And fear is a path to the dark side.” His ears flattened in admonishment. “Know this, you should.”
There could only be one answer to that. “Yes, Master.”
Yoda whacked him on the ankle with the end of his stick, apparently just for emphasis. “Hmp!” he declared imperatively. And then, obviously done with the lecture, he looked away and started walking again.
“Access to Orun’s information I can give you,” he said. “Medical files, performance records ... not secret to those authorized by the Council are these things. Arrange for her to meet with you, I can. Hm. But only you can decide what questions you must ask. And if put her in your Padawan’s path, you do -- change. Always dangerous it is.”
“Yes, Mater.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “Thank you.”
“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”
“And with you, Master.”
: : :
Anakin was reading an entry on the history of Force philosophy that had been tagged “loreth” -- half of which was security-locked, and available only by special permission from the Council -- when he saw Ryn Orun again, as though his own assignment had somehow conjured her presence.
She was standing halfway across the reading room, staring at him with a stricken look on her face. When she saw him looking back, she raised one hand in a cautious wave.
Anakin hesitated just a second, then waved back.
Their eyes met, and suddenly Ryn was coming toward him, her face set with an odd mix of fear and determination.
“Look,” she said when she reached his study niche, speaking low and quickly. “I know you’re busy. I just want to say ...” Anakin could see her throat spasm, and she stopped to swallow hard. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly husky, but her words came out more clearly, a measured cadence as she met his eyes. “I’m sorry. For yesterday. I know I made you uncomfortable, and ... I apologize.” She finished, nodding jerkily.
“...thanks,” said Anakin, a little thrown by the sense of misery leaching into the Force around her. “Me too. For knocking you down, I mean.”
“I --” For some reason, she was blushing, not so much scarlet as fuchsia. “No, that was ... fine. It was fine.” She laid one hand on the top of the abbreviated wall that separated Anakin’s study niche from the empty one to his right, gripping it tightly -- a gesture of blessing, or maybe of farewell; he didn’t know. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said unevenly, and cleared her throat. “Have a great life, Anakin Skywalker. May the Force be with you.”
She dropped her hand and turned to walk away; but in that instant, Anakin felt the source of her despair, a loneliness so acute that it seemed to overwhelm all other sense of her presence.
It reminded him of his first months in the Temple, before he met Tru. When he hadn’t made any friends and he wasn’t like the other kids ...
“Wait!” he called, earning several disapproving looks from other students nearby. But Ryn had turned back to face him, her face too carefully blank, the look of a wary creature expecting attack. “Listen,” he said, pretty sure he was going to regret this but unable to ignore her misery. “Master Obi-Wan sent me here to find out everything I could about Loreth, but ... there’s not much here. Maybe you could help me?”
She took a single step toward him, hovering on the verge of flight. “What do you want to know?”
Anakin shrugged, trying to look friendly and non-threatening. “Anything.” He tilted his head back, still seated, to look up at her. “What do you like to eat?”
There was something odd about Ryn’s smile -- slow and a little tentative, as if she knew what it was supposed to look like but wasn’t quite sure she was doing it right.
Anakin smiled back.
Her eyes lit, and the smile turned suddenly real and easy, the transformation startling as it swept over her face. Anakin felt his breath catch unexpectedly, a little hitch of surprise. And then ...
“Okay,” said Ryn.
: : :
In the city of Theed, Naboo’s young Queen fingered a necklace carved by childish hands out of a japor snippet as she prepared to pass on her throne to its next occupant. Beyond Wild Space, Kitraal Orun fought a losing battle against encroaching slave ships from the dead space between galaxies. Somewhere on a Mid-Rim world, Count Dooku of Serenno fomented dissent.
And in 500 Republica, at the heart of the Republic, a shadow brooded.
This entry was originally posted at http://wyncatastrophe.dreamwidth.org/110053.html. Please comment there using OpenID.