|
|
Mar. 14th, 2006 @ 07:41 pm
|
|---|
[[Attempting to shine up the emo tiara before I go on vacation, what fun!]]
That night he dreamed not of the darkness and his own pathetic, insignificant fears, but of the light. Blinding, impenetrable light that could blind and bleach, where nothing could exist. The light burnt to live within, but outside the light was only hell in its purest form.
He woke up with a startled, strangled cry, heartbeat racing, lungs aching. He swore, loudly, several times - any observer that was familiar with Coruscanti slang would be surprised that it was kriffing possible to do that with a kriffing hydrospanner - and rose from bed, muscles trembling and breath coming in ragged gasps. He moved automatically toward the bathroom, body exhausted, luminescent blue eyes showing no signs of sleep. He hadn't slept in days, though it felt like so much longer.
There was a stainless steel razor on the marble countertop, presumably left by one of the handmaidens. It fell to the tile as he pulled off his tunic, revealing his toned torso. His pants soon followed. He bent to pick up the fallen garments, folding them before placing them to the side - he was not compulsive or anything, he just preferred for the world to be neat and orderly. He picked up the razor, turning it over in his hands. He didn't need to shave - stars knew he could go more than a month without and no one would notice. He blanked out, losing awareness of his surroundings, an occurrence that had been becoming increasingly common. It was dangerous, he knew distantly, but it felt sometimes like it couldn't be prevented, like he was slipping into a delirium.
He stepped into the shower, not realizing that he still had the razor curled loosely in his left hand. He was drifting off, away from everything it seemed. For a youth who could rarely stay still for more than a five minutes stretch, this was enough to alarm anyone who knew him well.
The water was hot, nearly scalding, but he hardly even realized it. Rivulets of hot water traced a rapid bath down his lean, long-legged frame. He reached to undo the braid, sending several small beads - beads that were meant to signify missions and achievements among Jedi Padawans - clattering to the floor of the shower.
Time was lost while he was in the water, as well as awareness of where he was or what he was doing.
However, more than an hour passed. The scorching water eventually turned icy, and the thin, superficial cuts across his wrist bled.
That was when he came to. Cursing, he turned off the freezing water, and dried off quickly, before grabbing an extra towel, and pressing it to the underside on his wrist. The bleeding was minor, no more than a scratch, really. "What the hell was I thinking?" He returned to his room and dressed quickly, before padding out into the apartment's living room.Current Mood:  depressed |
|
Anakin awoke at dawn, never one to be able to rest for long stretches of time. He could feel Padmè in the Force. If he let his mind wander too close to hers…well, it was like he put his hand in a shallow puddle, expecting to get only his palm wet, only to find himself soaked all the way up to the elbow. The very sensation of seeing her again was…intoxicating.
He should not be thinking such thoughts – they were not proper Jedi thoughts. Not even close, he told himself, moving from the bed to sit cross-legged on the floor. He tried to meditate, tried to control his body to calm his mind.
Inhale.
There is no chaos.
He was almost acutely aware of one of the handmaidens – Sarè, he supposed – moving around within the penthouse.
Exhale.
There is peace.
But there was not. He could feel the disorder that embraced the entire city, cradling it like a support. The chaos was underlying, merging with everything seen and unseen.
Inhale.
There is no emotion.
But there was and that was the problem. Maybe he was too aware, feeling and caring too intensely. Padmè had told him not to worry, but he could not seem to help it. If I don’t worry, who will?
He tried to meditate for several minutes more until he could not bear to sit still any longer. He let go of the control he had attained, feeling the Force, a presence almost tangible to him, seem to draw back to surround and encompass everything. His perception of it shifted to the back of his mind, making room for the more mundane sensations of day-to-day life.
Donning a simple tunic and pants, he made a mental not to get some clothes that stood out less in this culture. After pulling on his boots, he went into the apartment proper to leave the note somewhere she would find it. Current Mood:  listless Lost Refrain: Green Day - Minority |
There is a pause, then a canned female voice speaks. "You have reached the communications unit of Anakin Skywalker. His status is currently offline. Leave a message and he will respond his frequency is back online."Lost Refrain: Dashboard Confessional - Love Song |
( Read more... )Current Mood:  excited Lost Refrain: Simple Plan - Perfect |
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
onlyaftermath's journal