Jaina Solo Fel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
solo_sword) wrote2009-07-05 10:25 am
solo_sword) wrote2009-07-05 10:25 am
Entry tags:
6th foor quiet room, Sunday afternoon
Once she'd gotten work done and made all the calls she needed to for now, Jaina found that she still had absolutely zero interest in packing for the cabins. Granted, that would take only as long as she needed to throw some things into a bag and go, but she didn't want to do it. She hadn't wanted to go to the cabins last time, and now even the thought of it just gave her a bad, sick sort of feeling.
Instead, she wandered up to the sixth floor, trying to get away from where people might be packing and moving and disturbing her, looking around until she found the quiet room.And to think, someday locking Jedi in padded rooms might make a lot of sense. She could avoid topics she didn't want to deal with forever if she wanted, but the fact was her head was such a messed up jumble of things right now that she had to at least try and clear it.
She closed the door to the room, made herself comfortable in the middle of the floor, and closed her eyes to meditate.
Jaina rarely had visions, so when this one began, it wasn't a surprise that it was similar to one she'd had a year before, which was similar to a recurring nightmare she'd had since she was fourteen years old. Herself in a brown jumpsuit at that same age at the Shadow Academy, fighting against a very familiar dark-suited figure wielding a red lightsaber. There were differences from usual, though. This Jaina wasn't fighting like a fourteen-year-old. She was fast, and trained, and deliberate, each strike meant to the last one she'd need. She was mostly matching the fake Vader's movements, noticing that they were mostly defensive movements.
When she landed the killing blow, it wasn't by accident this time. She meant to do it.
The head rolled away, still in its mask, while the armored body crumpled lifelessly to the ground. Heart in her throat, Jaina moved slowly towards the helmet, crouching down to remove it even though she knew what was underneath.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the face of fourteen-year-old Jacen that she was seeing when she'd removed the mask. This was the face of the man who had sent her to the clinic with broken ribs. The face of Ben's version of Jacen, who had destroyed her military career, who had committed regicide and turned Tahiri into a Sith and completely messed up Ben, and that was just the things she knew. She knew it had had to be done; it wouldn't stop her from being horrified that she had done it. Part of her expected his face to morph into that of the Jacen she knew, the younger version she could picture so clearly in her head now, telling her that she'd just destroyed everything that had ever been good about him, but it didn't happen.
Jaina turned her head away, noticing the shadow of someone standing beside her. When she looked up, she was doing so at her little brother, still dressed in the vac suit he'd died in, hair tousled like she'd left it and watching the scene. She kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something, to tell her she was right or wrong or to offer some insight on what she'd just done, but he didn't say a word.
Because, Jaina realized, he couldn't. He no longer had insight to offer.
When she pulled herself out of the trance, she was shaking and sweating, heavy breathing making her feel like she might choke on the sob she was immediately trying to hold back. She wiped at her eyes, preventing the fall of any tears, because she'd gone this long without crying over it, she wasn't about to start now. There was no point, and it'd be silly to do so, and she was just not going there.
The self-admonishment having done its job, Jaina pulled herself back together quickly, steadying her breathing and deciding that for as much as she didn't want to be in this room anymore, she wouldn't leave until she was sure no one would be able to ask her what was wrong. If they did that, she was afraid said self-admonishment wouldn't work so well.
She'd be here for a while, in any case.
[NFB and NFI plz!]
Instead, she wandered up to the sixth floor, trying to get away from where people might be packing and moving and disturbing her, looking around until she found the quiet room.
She closed the door to the room, made herself comfortable in the middle of the floor, and closed her eyes to meditate.
Jaina rarely had visions, so when this one began, it wasn't a surprise that it was similar to one she'd had a year before, which was similar to a recurring nightmare she'd had since she was fourteen years old. Herself in a brown jumpsuit at that same age at the Shadow Academy, fighting against a very familiar dark-suited figure wielding a red lightsaber. There were differences from usual, though. This Jaina wasn't fighting like a fourteen-year-old. She was fast, and trained, and deliberate, each strike meant to the last one she'd need. She was mostly matching the fake Vader's movements, noticing that they were mostly defensive movements.
When she landed the killing blow, it wasn't by accident this time. She meant to do it.
The head rolled away, still in its mask, while the armored body crumpled lifelessly to the ground. Heart in her throat, Jaina moved slowly towards the helmet, crouching down to remove it even though she knew what was underneath.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the face of fourteen-year-old Jacen that she was seeing when she'd removed the mask. This was the face of the man who had sent her to the clinic with broken ribs. The face of Ben's version of Jacen, who had destroyed her military career, who had committed regicide and turned Tahiri into a Sith and completely messed up Ben, and that was just the things she knew. She knew it had had to be done; it wouldn't stop her from being horrified that she had done it. Part of her expected his face to morph into that of the Jacen she knew, the younger version she could picture so clearly in her head now, telling her that she'd just destroyed everything that had ever been good about him, but it didn't happen.
Jaina turned her head away, noticing the shadow of someone standing beside her. When she looked up, she was doing so at her little brother, still dressed in the vac suit he'd died in, hair tousled like she'd left it and watching the scene. She kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something, to tell her she was right or wrong or to offer some insight on what she'd just done, but he didn't say a word.
Because, Jaina realized, he couldn't. He no longer had insight to offer.
When she pulled herself out of the trance, she was shaking and sweating, heavy breathing making her feel like she might choke on the sob she was immediately trying to hold back. She wiped at her eyes, preventing the fall of any tears, because she'd gone this long without crying over it, she wasn't about to start now. There was no point, and it'd be silly to do so, and she was just not going there.
The self-admonishment having done its job, Jaina pulled herself back together quickly, steadying her breathing and deciding that for as much as she didn't want to be in this room anymore, she wouldn't leave until she was sure no one would be able to ask her what was wrong. If they did that, she was afraid said self-admonishment wouldn't work so well.
She'd be here for a while, in any case.
[NFB and NFI plz!]