Drabble #2
Nov. 2nd, 2006 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrilWell, I'm thinking my post yesterday was rather lengthy to be called a drabble. However...I'm too long-winded to try to trim my writing down. :P Whatever its official categorization, here is what I call my second drabble.
Mourn Them Not
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The loss came to him as devastatingly as if his own arm had been severed from him.
Yoda staggered, clutching his chest, letting out a soft cry. It was not merely death that had struck him so forcibly. He had sensed the deaths of Jedi countless times before, particularly since the War. Even before then, Jedi often died in combat. It was an accepted fact. For well over seven centuries, Yoda had learned to become acquainted with the splintering effect of death, the way a living being's identity fractured and diffused into the all-embracing ether of the Force. He had thought himself ready to calmly accept any and all circumstances of loss.
He had not been ready for this. Interwoven among the strands of pain and swiftly ebbing life, there were darker threads, the sense of which shook him beyond all his strength. Betrayal. Broken trust. An attack from behind, a shout of aggrieved surprise that was immediately silenced.
And there were so many. Yoda knew the pained voices that echoed in the wells of the Force. Ki-Adi. Aayla. Plo Koon. Every Jedi that had been sent into combat. Every friend that Yoda had. Even Mace, supposedly safe on Corscuant, had not escaped this strange treachery. Grief washed over Yoda overwhelmingly.
The Jedi, he realized now at last, had been his family. He had avoided the gathering of possessions, of attachments, of things that would fade or break or eventually become one with the Force. He had avoided it all so scrupulously, and yet he had formed a connection. The only thing he had allowed himself to care for. The Jedi Order.
And it was lost.
Whispers of the Force thronged his mind suddenly, voices of warning. Hardly thinking, he drew his weapon against the traitors who were rising up against him as so many other Jedi had been betrayed. There was no anger for them, only a deep, drowning sorrow.
His own words came back to him mockingly. Mourn them not...miss them not. He had not feared their loss, and he would take care to avoid the path of anger and hatred that such fear could bring. But as for mourning...
He would spend the next twenty years alone, and he would learn what it meant to miss his old friends.
Mourn Them Not
--------
The loss came to him as devastatingly as if his own arm had been severed from him.
Yoda staggered, clutching his chest, letting out a soft cry. It was not merely death that had struck him so forcibly. He had sensed the deaths of Jedi countless times before, particularly since the War. Even before then, Jedi often died in combat. It was an accepted fact. For well over seven centuries, Yoda had learned to become acquainted with the splintering effect of death, the way a living being's identity fractured and diffused into the all-embracing ether of the Force. He had thought himself ready to calmly accept any and all circumstances of loss.
He had not been ready for this. Interwoven among the strands of pain and swiftly ebbing life, there were darker threads, the sense of which shook him beyond all his strength. Betrayal. Broken trust. An attack from behind, a shout of aggrieved surprise that was immediately silenced.
And there were so many. Yoda knew the pained voices that echoed in the wells of the Force. Ki-Adi. Aayla. Plo Koon. Every Jedi that had been sent into combat. Every friend that Yoda had. Even Mace, supposedly safe on Corscuant, had not escaped this strange treachery. Grief washed over Yoda overwhelmingly.
The Jedi, he realized now at last, had been his family. He had avoided the gathering of possessions, of attachments, of things that would fade or break or eventually become one with the Force. He had avoided it all so scrupulously, and yet he had formed a connection. The only thing he had allowed himself to care for. The Jedi Order.
And it was lost.
Whispers of the Force thronged his mind suddenly, voices of warning. Hardly thinking, he drew his weapon against the traitors who were rising up against him as so many other Jedi had been betrayed. There was no anger for them, only a deep, drowning sorrow.
His own words came back to him mockingly. Mourn them not...miss them not. He had not feared their loss, and he would take care to avoid the path of anger and hatred that such fear could bring. But as for mourning...
He would spend the next twenty years alone, and he would learn what it meant to miss his old friends.
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Date: 2006-11-03 02:28 pm (UTC)