[ He can feel the change in the air around him, the familiar coldness, ice to counteract the constant, underlying remembrance of fire. He sits very still, looking on as Claude raises his hand and holds it up and remembers many, many months ago, sitting in the Temple in the same way with his body aching in the best of ways, reaching back. This existence, he thinks, is an otherworld of that - it's cold, hard, and there is no underlying promise of proximity, not for a while. His stomach clenches painfully.
Fear is a natural response says Claude and that's something Anakin used to know as well, before he came to Coruscant and was taught about the dangers associated with it. Before that, fear had been a way to exist in a dangerous world and being afraid, as a slave, was wise. Alertness. The knowledge of consequences along with the possible gravity of them. Slowly, as Claude talks on, Anakin unclenches his metal fingers, his right upperarm trembling minutely at the strain. Then, he reaches out across the flickering blue hololight and entwines their fingers the best he can. It feels like nothing.
It is everything. ]
Right.
[ He's used to fixing things. It's all he's ever been good at, helping people, removing whichever obstacle's in their way to let them pass. Then, for the past two years, he's done the same for his Master, though it's felt like a mockery of what it used to. I can't rule over my fear says Claude and that's wise of him. That's one of the wisest things he's heard in a long, long while.
Anakin, however, must learn to rule over his, rather than trying to clear the path in front of it. It's an old, ingrained habit, something that says, be of use, be of use, be of use, no matter what it costs you.
He sighs. The tension bleeds from his shoulders. ]
Then, I will move my focus as well. [ He looks directly at Claude, gaze firm, despite the ache in his chest and the wetness rising in his eyes. ] To meet you on the other side.
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Fear is a natural response says Claude and that's something Anakin used to know as well, before he came to Coruscant and was taught about the dangers associated with it. Before that, fear had been a way to exist in a dangerous world and being afraid, as a slave, was wise. Alertness. The knowledge of consequences along with the possible gravity of them. Slowly, as Claude talks on, Anakin unclenches his metal fingers, his right upperarm trembling minutely at the strain. Then, he reaches out across the flickering blue hololight and entwines their fingers the best he can. It feels like nothing.
It is everything. ]
Right.
[ He's used to fixing things. It's all he's ever been good at, helping people, removing whichever obstacle's in their way to let them pass. Then, for the past two years, he's done the same for his Master, though it's felt like a mockery of what it used to. I can't rule over my fear says Claude and that's wise of him. That's one of the wisest things he's heard in a long, long while.
Anakin, however, must learn to rule over his, rather than trying to clear the path in front of it. It's an old, ingrained habit, something that says, be of use, be of use, be of use, no matter what it costs you.
He sighs. The tension bleeds from his shoulders. ]
Then, I will move my focus as well. [ He looks directly at Claude, gaze firm, despite the ache in his chest and the wetness rising in his eyes. ] To meet you on the other side.