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( open. )
Who: anakin skywalker + you
Where: the station
When: days 165-166
Summary: man wakes up from bender to find all his problems still there
Warnings: violencewell that took no time
that's gratitude.
rest is the obvious treatment for his sense of malaise, and anakin does try. considering a few hours later find him in the training hall, the results were about as successful as one would expect.
he was brought down during the time set aside to adjust. almost two weeks were spent aware of nothing while the others singlehandedly pissed off an entire population. he has a lot to catch up on.
his lightsaber remains clipped to his belt, which is the only reason his target(s) live still in one piece. with a sword, with a staff, with anything permitted to him, anakin takes down target after target in a demonstration that is all elegant violence and brash grace. his lungs ache, his muscles burn — but that’s the point. action does not necessitate thought. ]
even with an audience, anakin doesn’t look up, too busy completing the first part: an arm, which he tests the articulation of by having it extend and close around his finger. ]
There’s a chair if you plan to keep watch, [ he observes idly. ]
the force remains weak. his once instinctive awareness, blunted. anakin swallows thickly.
he’s still more ripped than kylo ren, though. ]
Where: the station
When: days 165-166
Summary: man wakes up from bender to find all his problems still there
Warnings: violence
I. EVERYBODY WAS KUNG-FU FIGHTING[ after days spent comatose, anakin sleeps almost half a day. he might have continued sleeping but for a rather brusque awakening. not that he could blame ahsoka. were the roles reversed, he would have been waking her every hour on the hour, and likely earned himself a punch for his efforts.
SOMETHING SOMETHING FAST AS LIGHTNING.
that's gratitude.
rest is the obvious treatment for his sense of malaise, and anakin does try. considering a few hours later find him in the training hall, the results were about as successful as one would expect.
he was brought down during the time set aside to adjust. almost two weeks were spent aware of nothing while the others singlehandedly pissed off an entire population. he has a lot to catch up on.
his lightsaber remains clipped to his belt, which is the only reason his target(s) live still in one piece. with a sword, with a staff, with anything permitted to him, anakin takes down target after target in a demonstration that is all elegant violence and brash grace. his lungs ache, his muscles burn — but that’s the point. action does not necessitate thought. ]
II. DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A DROID, MAN[ though at this point, it resembles nothing. spare parts in a pile on a table in the hangar, through which anakin sorts through for whatever he needs, stripping them out if need be. his fingers move with the ease of experience. the lack of ai is a crass limitation, but he doesn’t need an intelligent droid.
YES, IT HAS TO BE A DROID, MAN.
even with an audience, anakin doesn’t look up, too busy completing the first part: an arm, which he tests the articulation of by having it extend and close around his finger. ]
There’s a chair if you plan to keep watch, [ he observes idly. ]
III. THE THIRST OPTION[ —or he’s seated on the edge of a pool after a swim to cool off, a glove over his mechanical arm, and focused entirely on the surface of the water. he holds his hand, palm out. a stream of water rises, collects into a ball before his hand. his fingers tremble from the exertion, and his brow furrows, and the ball collapses.
AKA I HAVE NO EXCUSE.
the force remains weak. his once instinctive awareness, blunted. anakin swallows thickly.
he’s still more ripped than kylo ren, though. ]
II
But later on, when she's exhausted herself and out of anything else to do, she backtracks to see if he's still working, curious as to what it might be. Takes with her an assortment of broken parts from her since exploded datapad. Bundled up in her hands carefully and carefully she approaches him. Skittish, mostly because she always is now. But she won't get better at handling other people unless she forces herself. ]
Hi, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I saw you were working and I thought... you might be able to use these.
[ She offers them up then, the small bits and pieces she hadn't used herself. Might be useful, might not be, but she'd never known the robotics obsessed to not hoard parts. Granted they were all usually crazy but when did that ever mean anything really? ]
no subject
she's young; anakin does not think her older than he is. and odd. he notes her uncertainty, which compels him to be a little kinder than he might otherwise be. ]
Where did you get them? [ he holds out his hand, letting her drop them into his palm. the glove sits over his arm again. it muffles what sound of metal clicking against metal there may have been. ]
no subject
That and it helps not meeting his eyes, feeling the warmth prickle up her neck as she clears her throat in the effort of picking her words. It's embarrassing really, the ridiculous upshoot of everything going to hell so quickly. It's not a loss of control she wants to admit to. ]
They're from my datapad. [ Once she's let go of the pieces, they settle back to her side, fiddling with her own skittishness. ] I sort of... exploded it? [ Then more hurriedly: ] By accident. [ cause that somehow made it better. ]
no subject
…amazing, actually. how exactly does one explode a data pad accidentally? there's a story here more interesting than the surviving pieces. but anakin closes his fingers around them. whether in the droid or elsewhere, he will give them new, hopefully longer-lasting life. ]
no subject
I have an ability that allows me to... communicate directly with technology. It's fine most of the time, I don't have much of a problem, just... sometimes if I don't control myself? Turns out they're pretty easy to overload and they tend to go -- [ her hands lift, fingers flicking a short gesture of an explosion going outwards in a sphere. ] -- boom.
no subject
Next time I need scraps, I'll give you a call. You can talk to something around here.
[ or. you know. to his dumbass droid, but he's still holding out hope that he can make it less dumb somehow. dreaming is free or something. ]
no subject
They are fun to talk to, programs see the world very differently. [ she pulls a face then, something like guilty and objecting. ] I don't always explode them, though. Sometimes it's just perfectly reasonable discussions about poetry.
no subject
I can't say I've discussed poetry with a droid before, but one has jabbered my ear off regarding protocol.
[ oh, c-3po, you golden neurotic wreck. he actually misses 3po. how's that for homesick. ]
no subject
Nods, all sympathetic wince, too understanding when they got like that. Granted they were programmed to care about things that people weren't, but... ]
I got stuck listening to one tell me all his favourite kind of doors to open. It's funny wen they get like that - [ shakes her head. ] I think it's kind of sweet, though. They get so excited and interested about it.
[ pauses, forgetting something. ] I'm Angel, by the way.