Summary: This is a world where the Jedi are winged like angels.
Obi-wan deals with his inner frustration and his despair in
"Black Wing: Singed Feathers, Broken Dreams". We get to read
about his dislike of his black wings and his difference. He
seems to have accepted it at the end but for how long? Also, we
get to see his dreams of flight and a certain stranger.
"Whirlwind of Fury" deals with suppressed anger breaking
free...and the consequences.
Dedicated to those who have encouraged me with their emails.
Thank you for your inspiration and your feedback.
Rating: PG-13.
When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
Throne of God, when the frowns of his
Countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?
When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death:
When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain,
O who can stand? O who hath caused this?
--- William Blake
The disappointment and abject failure Obi-Wan had felt keenly
soon faded away as a new mission was assigned to his master.
They were sent immediately to a planet torn by factional strife
as peacemakers and negotiators. As the cruiser departed from
glistening Coruscant, the renowned pearl of the universe,
Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. At least, he won't get to
hear Bruck Chun's boastings. Well, not for a while...
The Jedi were treated as revered guests. The planet inhabitants
were unusually devout and they saw the Jedi as heaven's
emissaries. The children called them 'angels' and indeed as
they disembarked from the cruiser, crowds gathered. Men and
women reached out to touch their cloaks; they whispered prayers
and bowed low, their faces respectful. At the sight of Qui-Gon
with his white wings, they gasped and knelt, to the shock and
bemusement of the Jedi Master. Yet, they drew away from Obi-Wan
and he had to swallow down the all-too-familiar feeling of
anger, curb the burning fire down severely.
They got down to business quickly. The ravages of war were too
apparent. The buildings were ruins, falling apart because of
the incessant shelling. There was no food and people appeared
gaunt, under-nourished. Qui-Gon was appalled at the sight of
children, their stomachs round, not with fullness but disease.
Obi-Wan was similarly affected; the Force was weak here, ebbing
away. Even as they talked to the leading citizens, the building
they were in shook with the constant bombardment and the Jedi
were covered with dust falling from the cracks in the marbled
ceiling.
Obi-Wan took time to assess his surroundings. The specter of
death sickened him and he could feel voices crying out for
help, souls weeping for salvation. As part of the mission, he
had to help the injured and he fed children, too weakened by
war. Their little hands touched him shyly, their eyes never
leaving him. For a while, he felt accepted, warmed by their
gratitude. They didn't care about his black wings. He was an
'angel' in their eyes and he was contented, even briefly. He
watched them sleep on their makeshift beds and smiled to
himself. For the rest of the mission, he threw himself,
whole-heartedly, into the rescue and feeding of the refugee
children.
One day during a lull in the peace talks, he was walking
amongst the beds, satisfied to note that one of the youngest
children, a girl of four, had began eating. Something tugged at
the hem of his cloak and Obi-Wan glanced down, only to see a
little boy with a purple bruise on his face.
"Are you sin incarnate?" The boy asked innocently enough.
Obi-Wan halted and his stomach lunged horribly. "No..." He
managed to say but all the old fears were creeping back, like
the poisonous curling tendrils of some hideous plant.
"My mom told me once that sin comes with black wings..." The
boy said and he extended his right hand, his fingers brushing
against the wingtips. Obi-Wan shuddered a little. "But you are
so nice to us..."
There was...there was an old story in the Jedi legends about
the Sith being bearers of sin and depravity. All manners of
extravagance and excess were practiced by the Sith. Their black
wings were said to be their price, their mark of shame. All
Jedi children were brought up with this story and Obi-Wan had
endured a whole lot of jokes and sarcastic jibes. He had been
an exemplary student, brilliant at piloting. But he bore the
stigma of the black wings.
Deep within him, the anger woke and started to crackle.
"Because I care," Obi-Wan said, ruffling the hair of the boy
and the child giggled. Soon, he was back on the bed, fast
asleep. As for Obi-Wan, he could only pace up and down. The old
wound on his wing was suddenly sore, as if reminding him of who
he was...of what he was.
Of course, in front of his master, he was the calm and studious
young man. But in his room, he meditated feverishly.
Yet, the anger burned in him.
Qui-Gon watched his padawan intently. The youth was hiding
something from him. He was so quiet these days. Sure, he was
talkative with the children, playing with them and feeding them
food. He was all light and smiling, a picture of serenity.
However, in the privacy of the guest quarters, Obi-Wan became
solemn. Grave. The joy from his face seemed to fade away.
Why? Qui-Gon mused and observed Obi-Wan. He had always felt
pleasure watching Obi-Wan. The padawan he knew had grown up to
become a fine young man.
As if Obi-Wan realized that his master was looking at him, he
turned quickly away, so that the blush wasn't discernible.
At last, the peace talks ended with the two sides agreeing on a
truce and a cease-fire. The Jedi were heaped with profuse
gratitude in the form of gifts. The children gave Obi-Wan tiny
delicate hand-woven baskets and he hugged each of them. They
had so much to give, so much potential.
They returned back to Coruscant and the paperwork began.
Obi-Wan's inner anger only simmered. He kept it well under
control. He even ignored the glances as he walked along the
corridors, his head bowed.
Two days after their homecoming, it began to rain heavily. The
monsoon season had arrived.
The rainwater trailed silver rivulets on the windowpanes of the
training room. It was beautiful but the lone man on the
training mat seemed to ignore the intricate workings of nature.
He whirled, his lightsaber blazing turquoise blue. The light
threw flickering shadows onto the walls as the man moved, his
movement fluid, his every gesture a poetic dance. He seemed to
fly, his wings fully extended. He was exulting in the pure
thrill of the kata, enjoying its complexities and nuances.
As usual, he released his pent-up frustration into the Force.
He felt it sing in his body, like soft pulsating electric
currents.
"Are you sin incarnate?"
He gritted his teeth, his concentration wavering for a second.
With a firm shake of his head, he launched himself back into
the kata. Perspiration gleamed on his bare skin. He had
stripped down to only his undergarments for the freedom of
movement. He had dialed in the code for privacy. The training
room was all his for now.
His wings rustled as he leaped into the air, swinging down the
'saber. The energy blade rang with its own music and he
laughed, somersaulting.
"...Sin comes with black wings..."
This time, he lost it and he tumbled, landing on his backside
heavily. His lightsaber sizzled out. In the dim light of the
training room, Obi-Wan collapsed onto the mat, breathing
shallowly. His groin was oddly aching and he realized that it
was hard...embarrassingly so.
Sin comes with black wings, he thought and shut his eyes,
wishing it to go away. A voice whispered, hissing sibilantly in
his head. You are a Black-Wing. What do you expect? The
White-Wings are so pure and honest... Carnal desires are
virtually non-existent for them! Look at your own Master. He's
as chaste as the virgin girls!
Oh shut up, Obi-Wan growled and turned over to his side, his
face tingling with guilt. He was almost tempted to reach down
under the thin undergarments and ease that horrible ...need.
Outside, thunder rumbled.
Black-Wing...Black-Wing...Why?
Look at your good friend Bant. Though she doesn't say so, her
eyes sometimes convey her worry and concern. Am I going to be
tainted by a Black-Wing? Is Obi-Wan safe? She walks around you
as if she is treading on eggshells, oh so fearful she is! How
about Bruck? Bruck wishes to see you kicked out of the Temple.
He is that zealous, Obi-Wan!
The voice ranted on and Obi-Wan tried hard not to listen to it.
And your Master... Haven't you noticed that he has been looking
at you in a strange way? Black-Wing! Sin incarnate!
Obi-Wan wanted to shut out those thoughts and he clambered to
his feet, conscious of the hardness between his legs.
No! I am a Jedi!
This time, the thunder was louder. Obi-Wan's anger rose and
overflowed. The next thing he knew, the lightsaber was in his
hand and he was lashing out...
Master Qui-Gon became slightly annoyed when Obi-Wan had
repeatedly refused to heed his summons. The door was securely
locked and the words 'No Entry' blinked in the tiny screen
above the keyboard.
He heard something crashing.
It came from inside the training room.
Qui-Gon's heart clenched painfully and with a determined look
on his face, he overrode the code. The locks clicked open.
Waves of white-hot anger rolled forth, crashing against him. He
could hear more crashing, the thud of something heavy. Qui-Gon
winced quietly and he entered...
Only to witness a sea of destruction.
Bits of training mat flew haphazardly; some hit Qui-Gon's face
like insect stings. The walls bore scorch marks, whiplashes
etching deep into the structure. Training bars had crumbled
into an untidy pile. He was taken back at the sight of one or
two javelins jutting straight from the walls. They must have
been thrown...hurled with great strength.
In the middle of the destruction was Obi-Wan. His face was a
rictus of rage and fury. He stood in the center of the
whirlwind, the bits of training mat swirling around him like a
cyclone. His lightsaber glowed unnaturally bright. His chest
heaved and he panted hoarsely, his eyes glazed over. His black
wings clapped the air like thunder and the air vibrated with a
sense of agitation. Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air and
Qui-Gon was rained upon by pieces of shredded carpet.
There was a legend among Qui-Gon's people about the avenging
angel who would judge the world for their crimes. This angel
would cause massive destruction as a result of his rage.
Obi-Wan looked exactly like that avenging angel...
And he looked splendid... even with the amount of destruction
he had inflicted...
Qui-Gon swallowed quickly. His trousers were suddenly tight. It
was not right to think in such an unseeming manner! He curbed
down the insane surge of desire and proceeded to calm Obi-Wan
down. "Obi-Wan! Cease this immediately!"
There was another sharp sound as Obi-Wan's wings cupped the
air. He didn't seem to notice Qui-Gon.
This wasn't right! Qui-Gon marshaled his strength, gathering
the Force about him like a protective mantle. Fury beat around
him... Obi-Wan's fury... As palpable as the rain that beat
incessantly outside the room, as hot as the sun's fire.
Muscles rippled along Obi-Wan's arms as he stalked about the
room. The lightsaber hummed as it swung to and fro, as if it
was seeking for prey...something to hunt and to hurt. Qui-Gon
suppressed a groan of disappointment. Maybe it was all true
then. A Black-Wing couldn't deny its innate nature that was to
destroy. The very antithesis of life, the embodiment of
disorder... personified in the handsome youth prowling like a
feline before him... Maybe Master Yoda was right afterall...
No...
"Obi-Wan..." He said softly, gently as if to calm an edgy
child. And what a dangerous child! He mused grimly. The only
problem was that Obi-Wan wasn't a child anymore. Yes, he had
grown up... filled out very nicely indeed...
The face glistened with moisture. Obi-Wan's body trembled now
and then. The eyes were beginning to clear now. The blind rage
was evidently fading away. .
"Obi-Wan. Put down your weapon. Please."
The Force surrounding Obi-Wan had the feel of jagged glass.
"Why?" The voice was low. "Why, Master?"
"Obi-Wan, center yourself. Think clearly."
The young man paused, his fingers unclenching. He was drenched
in his own perspiration. His wings remained half-open.
Even in such physical and mental disarray, he was
breathtakingly beautiful... like the avenging angel...
"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon said and he sent a warm soothing embrace
of the Force. Obi-Wan visibly flinched.
"Why am I cursed?" The blue eyes shone with tears now. Tears of
anger. "Look at my wings, Master. They are black!" The voice
was laced with hysteria. "Black as sin! Black as Sith!" He
hissed, striding right up to Qui-Gon who had to back away.
"You are not cursed...."
"Oh? Because I was born that way?" Obi-Wan shook his head
furiously. He de-activated his lightsaber and gazed at the
wrecked training room.
The grief in his eyes shocked Qui-Gon profoundly.
"I apologize..." Obi-Wan muttered and headed for the door, his
wings now drooping. By now, a crowd had gathered outside the
room, a group of curious qawkers. They parted quickly as
Obi-Wan walked towards them. He didn't care about them. He was
way past caring.
Qui-Gon stood chilled to the bone. He suddenly felt
old...ancient. As he walked slowly towards the exit, he ignored
the strange feelings aroused by Obi-Wan's presence.
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