Homepage url: http://www.geocities.com/deathsquadder/fandom.html.
Archive: Yes, M/A archive, personal homepage.
Pairing: Q/O, O/Xan
Series: Yes. This is the fifth chapter.
Categories: angst, a/u.
Warning(s): none.
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. "Open Rebuke, Hidden
Love" sees the aftermath. Can Obi-Wan come to grips with his
own anger? Can Qui-Gon reconcile the transformation in his
apprentice and himself? "Thanatos" looks at the black-winged
apprentice's inner yearning to meet with people of his own
kind. He meets the stranger again... Dedicated to those who
have encouraged me with their emails. Thank you for your
inspiration and your feedback. Many thanks to Raonaid. **grin**
Rating: R-ish.
*** *** ***
Black Wing: Thanatos
*** *** ***
Thanatos.
1. an ancient Greek personification of death.
2. Psychoanal. (usually l.c) the death instinct, esp. as
expressed in violent aggression.
This time, there was no shining expanse of ocean, no wide and
breathtaking sky. This time, there was a dimly lit corridor,
illuminated with the glow of candlelight. His footsteps
whispered on thick lush carpets and he gazed at the red and
gold tracing beneath his bare feet. He looked around in silent
wonder. The candlelight glittered off intricate statues of
nymphs, of rare avians. His wings rustled behind him, a soft
sound completely at home with the sensual surroundings. As he
walked further down the corridor, he could hear haunting
music... Harp? Zither? He didn't know. But he was drawn to it,
like a butterfly to the flame. His soles padding on the
carpets, his skin feeling the velvet indulgence, he traced the
source of the music, listening intently.
He rounded a corner and there it was... a garden dappled with
golden sunlight. It seemed odd but it was a dream and dreams
were supposed to be strange... allowed to be strange. The dim
corridor faded away...washed away as he stepped into the circle
of sunlight, blinking at the sudden glare. The haunting music
was still being played. Languidly. Beautifully. He blinked,
suddenly realizing that the garden was filled with the most
bewitching of scents. Taskian sandalwood? It was definitely
incense. His bare feet relished the feel of soft grass and he
gasped with surprise. He hadn't experienced the coolness of
grass ever since he was a child. Getting more and more puzzled,
he glanced around. Trees. Low-hanging green succulent tendrils.
Orbs of fruits... hanging in clusters, advertising their
ripeness. His mouth watered; he wanted to taste one and he bit
his lip. He was Jedi and Jedi didn't care much for luxury.
But the fruits... they looked so delicious...
The music stopped. A soft, purring voice chuckled and spoke
warmly, " I am glad you found your way here..." Right in the
middle of the garden sat a man, draped in black robes. He had
high cheekbones, hinting of noble birth; the face was framed
with long hair... the color of night... the color of a raven's
wing. His slender fingers curled casually around a zither. He
looked immensely relaxed...
His eyes gleamed with secret amusement... And something
startled the visitor of this strange garden. In a strange
double vision, he saw himself...saw the wings on the man's
back. Big, graceful, they fluttered as the man flexed his
shoulder blades as if he was easing a stitch. They were
beautiful, the feathers healthy...glistening like polished
onyx...
"You look if you have seen a Force spirit," the man's voice
was gentle, slightly mocking. He gestured with his right hand
at an empty chair. "Come on. Sit down."
Hesitant at first, he paused. But the black-haired man urged
him on with a slight nod and he went forward, sitting on the
chair, feeling the softness of the cushion. It looked
extravagant, covered with expensive softsilk. He found himself
unable to speak and he tried to regain his vocal faculties. The
man waited for him patiently, his eyes watching... watching...
Finally, he managed to say a few words: "Were you the man in
my dreams?"
The black-haired man with wings like his smiled and reached
out an elegant hand. The hand scooped up a plump-looking yellow
fruit and held it close to his nose.
"What do you think?"
~*~
"Obi-Wan."
The voice didn't belong to a strange black-haired man. It was
deeper, filled with years of authority. It was cultured and at
this moment, the hint of impatience pierced through Obi-Wan's
sleep-drenched mind.
"Obi-Wan?"
He opened his eyes to see piercing blue eyes staring down at
him. Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan groaned and rubbed his face. His Master
could be seen walking towards the door, his brown robes
rustling softly.
"I apologize, Master..." The youth got up quickly, his
bed-sheets crumbling around him. The dream was still in him,
images whispering. Memories of a beautiful fragrance lingering
at the fringes of his consciousness, of slender fingertips
cupping yellow fruit... They were incredibly sensual...
He wasn't surprised to see a morning erection bulging in his
thin night-trousers. Blush rising in his face, Obi-Wan was glad
that Qui-Gon didn't see it. His Master had been so irascible
lately. Ever since that confrontation, the two of them had been
on tether-hooks. Qui-Gon had been meditating for a long time in
his study room and Obi-Wan knew why.
The youth slipped out of bed and ran to the shower. Qui-Gon
had retreated back to his room.
After a while, Obi-Wan found himself in the kitchen, trying to
mix himself a quick decent breakfast of dried fruit and crispy
flakes. He ate hurriedly, gulped down a glass of juice and
meditated briefly, clearing his mind... before knocking on his
teacher's door.
Qui-Gon was sitting in the pool of sunlight and Obi-Wan had to
blink. He was reminded of the man in his dream, the
black-winged man. But his Master seemed bigger, more rugged.
The man was graceful... almost elfin.
At present, Qui-Gon rested with an open book on his lap, his
finger tracing one line after another. Obi-Wan knelt, bowing
deeply. "Master."
"You slept late," the older man said quietly and put the book
away. "You were late for the early-morning meditation."
"I apologize."
"I believe a high-level kata will clear your mind
of...distractions." Qui-Gon's voice now bore amusement. He rose
to his feet and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's right shoulder.
The apprentice bowed once more. He planned to work himself
into a sweat.
~*~
Groups of Jedi initiates glanced towards Obi-Wan's direction
as he strode towards the public training area. Word was still
going around about the black-winged apprentice's destruction of
one of the training rooms. Young boys, about 6 years of age,
sidled close to the senior student leading them. Obi-Wan
ignored them. The memory of his 'outburst' still rankled in
him.
The kata flowed through him and he moved, the Force as a
guide. There was a blessed fluidity in his movement and he
reveled in it. He simply danced with the silent music, kicking
out in the intricate steps of the kata.
He did exercise himself into a fine lather and he finally
slumped onto the mat, feeling relaxed and deliciously tired. He
closed his eyes...
"What do you think?" The black-haired man said as if he hadn't
been interrupted. The yellow fruit exuded a sweet smell. The
skin was so close to Obi-Wan's nose that he could see the tiny
tracings of veins and fuzz. With a laugh, the man pulled it
away and took a small bite. Clear juice trailed down his neck
and he licked his lips, smiling. He handed it back to Obi-Wan,
his gesture conciliatory.
Obi-Wan stared at the small mouth-shaped bite on the yellow
fruit. He saw the small seeds in it.
"Obi-Wan!"
This time, he almost leapt out of his skin at the sight of
Qui-Gon striding down purposefully towards him. He was
sleeping, for Force's sake... in the training room!
Obi-Wan was embarrassed...ashamed of his slackness. His black
wings drooped as he prepared for the inevitable lecture. His
self-esteem fell a few notches and he felt like an errant
initiate, pinned down by the piercing eyes of an angry teacher.
He lowered his eyes, staring at the patterning on the carpet.
He could see Qui-Gon's boots in front of him. Agitated Force
could be felt crackling around his Master...like a controlled
lightning storm. Qui-Gon was angry. Very angry.
A soft sound, Qui-Gon exhaling slowly, his way of dealing with
his anger. Obi-Wan trembled inside. He could already hear the
words. Words of frustration and anger. Words of disappointment.
Qui-Gon had the right to feel disappointed. He wasn't behaving
like a proper apprentice. Sleeping...daydreaming when he was
supposed to be meditating.
What do you think? The low voice whispered and Obi-Wan could
see the fruit, half-eaten, oozing sweet juice...
"You are behaving strangely, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was
reined anger. The blue eyes flashed like sapphires, cold and
forgiving. "Sleeping late. Sleeping in the training room. This
is unbecoming of a senior padawan."
"Please forgive me, Master." Obi-Wan lowered himself on his
knees and bowed his head in the posture of the repentant
student. He heard Qui-Gon sigh.
"Obi-Wan, what is wrong?" The tone was different now. The
anger was still there. But there was compassion too. Detached
curiosity.
What do you think? The voice chuckled. Gently mocking.
"Nothing, Master. I am just...tired." Obi-Wan said quietly. He
could feel Qui-Gon's gaze on him, a warm heat.
"Rest more then. Take the day off. I have to meet Masters
Windu and Yoda now. Go to the Aerie and meditate." The Master
turned away and headed for the doorway, leaving Obi-Wan alone
again in the room.
~*~
After a meal by himself in the Dining Hall, Obi-Wan did what
his Master had told him: he went straight to the Aerie. He
passed a few senior students, inclining his head politely as he
padded silently to the huge crystal-glass cathedral in the
center of the Jedi Temple. He ignored the sly gibes made by
Bruck Chun who lounged with his cronies near the Stream of
Tranquility. His wings twitched at the remarks but Obi-Wan
soldiered on, walking up the stairs to the Aerie.
The Aerie was the Jedi's place of sanctuary. Spacious, enough
to house two large cruisers, it was a place where Jedi and even
non-Jedi could come and sit down to think, contemplate about
Life. It had small ledges where people could sit down or stand.
Sunlight flooded down from the glass roof, illuminating the
center of the Aerie. There was the sound of a running stream
but no one knew exactly about the whereabouts of the water. It
was a mystery, even to the senior Masters.
There was a few people in the Aerie today, mostly Jedi. They
were flying, taking delight in the rush of joy, the
exhilaration of freedom. Obi-Wan found an empty ledge where he
sat cross-legged, taking deep breaths to calm himself. The
Aerie's aura of serenity seeped in him, fusing with the Force.
He felt immediately cleansed, his worries dispelled away. He
could hear the laughter from the flying Jedi: happy sounds that
lifted his spirits immensely.
He wasn't aware of the figure watching him. It sat on a ledge
to his far right. It said nothing but it held a fruit to its
lips and smiled.
~*~
He was back in the garden. The incense seemed stronger, more
heady. The black-haired man sat languidly on his chair,
plucking the zither's strings lazily. His black wings fluttered
once or twice. When Obi-Wan approached, the man turned his head
and smiled warmly.
"What do you think?" The man said, his voice soft. "Playing
the zither has never been my forte."
Noting the expression on his visitor's face, he laughed and
held forth the yellow fruit again. This time, the fruit looked
whole, uneaten.
"Come... have a slice..." He flourished a knife and sliced the
fruit neatly into eight sections. He speared one with the knife
and gestured gracefully.
"Don't hesitate. Eat it."
Obi-wan took the slice of fruit and placed it in his mouth. It
was sweet and sour, the juices running down his throat in a
sugary stream. He found himself enjoying the taste ... and he
wanted more.
"See. The fruit is harmless. It's one of my favorites." The
man stood up and stretched. He was wearing almost nothing this
time. Gone were the black robes. He was only wearing a thin
loincloth but he didn't seem to be ashamed of his
almost-nudity. As he stretched, Obi-Wan could see the muscles
ripping down the slender back. The man spread his black wings
and the pinions shimmered.
"What is your name?" Obi-Wan asked and the garden suddenly
became hazy, dreamy.
Then the man's face was inches away from his own. He could see
those dark eyes. For a split second, he thought he saw sorrow.
Rage. A helplessness like a caged bird. It was soon gone,
replaced by the sudden predatory intensity.
"I am one of your kind," the voice was silky, the lips moving.
Obi-Wan focussed on the lips: red, moist, moving.
"My kind?" Obi-Wan's heart began to hammer. "What is your
name?" He repeated again.
"They call me Thanatos," the man said and leaned over, the tip
of his nose touching Obi-Wan's briefly. He grinned when Obi-Wan
pulled back. The yellow fruit appeared magically and it was
whole once more. The man called Thanatos placed it gently
against Obi-Wan's lips...
...And Obi-Wan bit into it, feeling the firm skin of the fruit
splitting, tasting the sweet juices. He closed his eyes,
savoring the taste.
...Thanatos tilting his chin up and kissing him on the lips.
He could taste the fruit in the man's mouth. Thanatos kissed
him, bruising his lips...slender hands slipping around his
waist like cool bands...
"You must know that they have been feeding you lies..."
Thanatos's voice said, almost dream-like. Hazy... fragmented.
"There were once Black Wings...too numerous to count..."
"But Black Wings were supposed to be Sithhhh..."
"Sith? A lot of rubbish through and through...." And Thanatos
kissed him again...
As they lay on the grass, basking in the sun, the black-winged
man turned to Obi-Wan and said:
"Ask your Master... Probe him further..."
...Hands sliding down his belly... curving around his
member...
~*~
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, staring at the darkened ceiling. His
room was still and he could hear the white noise of
never-sleeping Coruscant. He stared at his groin and knew --
painfully -- that he was aroused... terribly so...
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