Archive: Oh, S-WAL and M/A if you *really* want it.
Summary: A short, silly answer to Anne Higgins theory about
Obi-Wan's Amazing Traveling Braid Trick.
It was hanging straight down his back.
Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan's braid, the apprehension thickening
in the forefront of his consciousness. He held it in with an
almost physical effort and didn't say a word as his student
entered, bowed slightly in greeting and headed straight to his
quarters without so much as a nibble on his Master's lower lip
as a goodnight "snack."
Qui-Gon's cheek twitched. Oh, it was a strange and wondrous
thing that Padawan's braid. As changeable as Yoda's
prepositional phrasing, as unpredictable as a hyperdrive on a
Naboo fighter; the position of that braid was as much an
indicator of disaster as of rank or even the occasional bow to
current Padawan fashion.
Like the color and length of the knee socks on a student in a
all-female Altenka convent school, there were more than simple
matters of convenience or style to be gleaned from such a
statement.
Much, much more.
At times Obi-Wan's braid could be a fortuitous omen, at others
an obvious warning, signaling emotions as diverse as sexual
desire, melancholy, crabbiness, envy, docility, or even the
occasional craving for the perfect P'skjair sandwich, hold the
zaoloot please.
At other times, it spelled nothing short of complete
catastrophe.
Qui-Gon knew that when worn on the left hand side of the head,
with the end tucked discreetly into a certain fold of a certain
tunic, it meant that someone had seriously miscalculated during
saber practice and had a bit of fried hair to hide.
Sometimes more than a bit.
When worn to the right, sloppily dressed with a ragged, and
damply, chewed tail, it practically screamed "Make-up quiz?
Now?? What make-up quiz?!"
Of course, when worn on the right, perfectly and smoothly
braided with that randy red thong tying up a freshly trimmed
end it said: "Tonight? Why, YES Master!"
But straight down the back, that was a new one.
Qui-Gon sincerely hoped it meant something innocuous, something
trivial, but feared the worst. It couldn't be a good sign --
there were just too many disastrous scenarios that hadn't been
exploited by The Cilium Oracle as of yet.
"I dropped my saber and it sparked out again, Master. In Master
Yoda's beloved guppy pond."
"The Senator from D'iua? Oh, he didn't really need that
arm, Master ... besides, he has FIVE! "
"Tonight? Bullocks on that. I have a headache."
Yes, straight down the back couldn't mean anything good.
Qui-Gon nobly resisted the urge to yank Obi-Wan back into the
room by the blasted tuft and force him to confess whatever sins
the demonic lock was currently representative of, but he
couldn't resist reaching out over their teaching bond and
feeling around for something slightly more concrete.
//Obi-Wan...//
//Yes, Master?//
//Oh, nothing. Just seeing how you are. So, how are you?//
//Fine, Master.//
//Are we sure?//
//Are we sure? I am sure. I don't know of what you are
certain of.//
//Good. That's very good. You're good, I'm good ... everyone's
good, I'll assume.//
//As far as I know, Master.//
//That's good. Good is good, isn't it?//
//I think we've covered that already, Master.//
//So ... no floods to report? No fires? No sudden out-of-body
experiences?//
//Not unless this conversation counts as one, Master.//
//So, I'll assume that means it's safe to come to the
definitive conclusion that you're fine, Padawan. Nothing at all
is wrong.//
//You deduce correctly. I must say that they certainly don't
call you the Master for nothing, Master.//
//I will take it a small step further and assume that also
means that there are no headaches, backaches, rashes, fits or
spontaneous combustions afoot?//
//Uh, Master..//
//Any seizures, boils or tics?//
//Master?//
//How about trench mouth?//
//Well, now that I think about it, I do feel a bit of weakness
in our mental link at the moment, Master. In fact, I thi...//
Qui-Gon winced as Obi-Wan's shields flew up with an almost
audible "bang!" Drat the boy, he thought, it must be something
unspeakable. He grumbled and rose, then sat again. If he
handled this incorrectly, he'd end up with something worse than
the uncertainty of a straight-back hanging braid.
He might get the dreaded "bunned" braid again.
And that was a place Qui-Gon never wanted to go again.
Repressing a shudder, he decided to take a few moments and
meditate on the matter. All would be well, he convinced
himself. He'd talk to Obi-Wan later, when he grew tired of
holding his shields up. They had that mental bond for a reason,
and that reason was to pick through the moody, changeable brain
of that delicious student of his and yank confessions out of
him whether he wanted them yanked out or not.
And if that didn't work, Qui-Gon knew he didn't have to worry
that much about it in the end.
After all, who needed a bond, when one had a braid?
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