[ it was a bad idea.

she knew it would be. the armory seemed to have some facsimile of a kyber crystal and it had called to her, shining and splendid. it had been so tempting. no other weapon could match a lightsaber. no other weapon could. as obi-wan and anakin used to say, the lightsaber is your life.

but she gave up that life. even as the hum compelled her, even as the parts for the saber flew around the armory, giving shape to her unspoken thoughts, all it takes is for someone to enter and all the parts clatter to the ground noisily. broken. hollowed out. like her.

ahsoka stares at the debris before shrugging loosely. yet her shoulders remain tense, waiting for a blow. ]

Sorry about that. I'll clean up.

[ this? this she could get used to. she sits down, legs crossed as she meditates. lets the warmth wash over her. she's been so cold since the crash on the moon. every part of her feels numb, but her training lives on. who she is lives on.

she even lets herself float a bit. rediscovery. definitely worth staring as you come across her. to her credit, she doesn't even open her eyes. ]

It's rude to stare.

[ at first, it had been the garden. the trees whispering. jedi younglings running across the courtyard. yoda's stick tapping against the tiles. the sound of water. but it would flicker. shift to a barren moon. a landscape of snow and dirt. and graves.

hundreds of graves stretched out before you. all marked with a single helmet. with orange markings. ahsoka can't look away. she wants to. desperately. but she can't. it's unfair. she should be allowed. ]

You should go.

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? ping me on timmtams / pm this journal ]