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More from Wielder
The Beauty of A Thorn: Tani Visla (WIP)
Kenobi was furious. His old childhood friend had done and said some rash and flat out stupid things in diplomatic situations before, but she'd really outdone herself this time. It wasn't bad enough that everyone, Force Sensitive or not, could cut the tension between her and Satine Kryze with a vibroblade, oh no, Wielder had to be the Devil's Advocate.
Of course, Satine railing about how the Jedi were no longer protectors of peace but were bringers of war didn't help the wolf's temper. Obi-Wan had to give Wielder that much. Satine had banked on Wielder having to keep her mouth shut like a good little Dog of the Order. Little did she know who she was dealing with.
"Make no mistake, Duchess..." It was an insult...not a title of respect when shot through Wielder's poisoned fangs. "...this Deathwatch is your creation. Not War's, not the Order's. Not the Republic's. This is your ugly baby, now put that in your spice pipe and smoke it."
The wolf had taken her leave. Literally taken it. Hadn't waited for Kenobi to dismiss her or anything. She'd simply left, glided out of sight as a wolf is want to do, leaving the echo of her strange words hanging in the air for all of them to ponder.
He still didn't understand it. How was this Satine's fault? She was a pacifist for Force-sake! How could anything called "the Deathwatch" be her creation. It was poppycock!
Once the talks were over and everything had reached an unsettled kind of calm, Obi-Wan had taken Satine in his arms, stroked her cheek, and comforted her as best as he could. The papillon was still upset, still complaining about that "wild beast" he'd brought with him on the mission. And just as any commander...and any good man who loves a woman dearly...would do, he'd assured her he'd take care of it.
The wolf was not found in her quarters. He'd damn near banked on that. She wasn't in the halls, the libraries, wasn't on the balconies. But Obi-Wan had followed Wielder since they were pups. He knew the further away he got from the trappings of a building...of a cage...the more likely he was to find her.
The Jedi Master forgot where and when exactly he was for a moment. She'd taken to wearing the trappings of civilian clothes more often lately...as though even looking the part of a Jedi Knight made her uncomfortable in her fur. A regular woman stood before him, weight shifting from hip to hip, no loose garments to disguise curves he still remembered all too well. Even having his thoughts made him feel guilty.
"Say what you came here to say, Kenobi, and leave. I'd like the chance to enjoy the rest of my night without your brown aura around me." It hurt, he had to admit that to himself. Everything said and done between the two of them hurt these days...
Slowly, reverent of her power, he approached her, hands behind his back. His large ears picked up the skritch scratching of pencil on parchment as he neared her side. Anger started to give way to curiosity. "Must you insist on upsetting the leader of a Neutral system, Wielder?" It was almost gentle. Almost. "Or would you have us earn another enemy by the time we leave."
A dangerous flash of a smile crossed her muzzle. "I think your "performance" here is what will determine whether relations stay warm and sweet with the hippie and the Order at large, Kenobi." Her innuendo was not lost on him, and he looked up in frustrated silence at the night sky, hoping the cool air would calm his blush. "But, in answer to your question, I'd rather have known enemies than questionable friends, Kenobi, but I like to keep things simple."
Silence for many minutes. Each measuring both his or her move and the possible moves of their opponent. Finally, feeling a stalemate was better than victory on either side, Obi-Wan inclined his head towards the parchment pad Wielder was scribbling, crosshatching, and smearing away on. He knew she tended to draw when frustrated or bored. Flowers in the garden in front of them. Well rendered but not photographic. More a feeling of the flowers than a portrait.
"Wanna play a little game, Obi?" His ears perked up. It had been the first time in several months that she had called him by his first name, let alone the shortened "pet" form of it.
Curiosity was getting the better of him. "Sure. Why not?"
Her calloused but surprisingly agile fingers flipped the pages of her journal, finding a virgin white page. She handed both the book and the pencil to him and, with little ceremony, said flatly. "Draw the flowers. Same ones I drew. Draw them."
He chuckled. "I don't draw..."
"Pudu, everyone draws because most of us lucky bastards can see. Draw. Draw the flowers. Nothing's being graded."
Rolling his eyes, he began to sketch carefully and methodically. Soft pink and white rings of petals protecting the inner sanctum of the flower. Feminine, fertile, gorgeous. Soft lines, delicate but rudimentary shading. After several minutes, he was done, and handed it back to her.
"So, what's the game?" He actually gave her a genuine smile. It was the most congenial interaction they had had in months. He was nearly eager to see what the point of all of this was.
The wolf smiled and rotated the journal in her hands, brown eyes looking with intelligence and a knowing sort of expertise at his handiwork. Strangely, she seemed impressed. "Good job, Obi," Wielder began, high pitched and happy. "You captured the beauty of this flower."
"Why thank you," he said, bowing almost comically. "But I'm still confused..."
The trap was sprung suddenly, she had him where she wanted him. "You drew everything that makes that flower beautiful, Obi-Wan," she observed solemnly. But, as a man who nearly wound up forever in the AgriCorps, I'd have expected more from you. You did not draw the whole importance of this plant. You took away her power."
Stunned. He was stunned. but she continued. "You left out the thorns, Obi. The very thing that protects the peace, the soft petals, the beauty, the next generation of blooms. You took them away. You left the vestige of the proud organism that once was defenseless. You have made it a confused creature with no recourse but to either die from insect and animal tampering, or...OR...you have forced it to find another way to defend itself..."
The wolf moved forward whispered a chant, a rune, a spell over the blossom her hands touched, thanking the plant for its gift as she plucked it to show him. "Make no mistake, Obi-Wan Kenobi, this beautiful and fragile thing wants desperately to live, to thrive, and to see future generations succeed because of its hard work. You take away her thorns, and she will develop something even worst to come into contact with if she truly wants to live. Plants respond by increasing the toxicity within their biochemistry when they are threatened. Anyone with a brain should know better than to make a plant feel as though it must do so."
He was losing patience. "What does all this have to do with Mandalore, Satine Kryze, politics, and the Deathwatch, not to mention your terrible behavior."
A criminal's smile. She'd gotten good at giving them recently. "It has everything to do with it, Oh Mighty and Wise leader. You see, your Duchess took away Mandalore's thorns when she abolished the warrior ways of her people in favor of a pacifism they did not understand. Now, a threatened society has grown poisonous, and the most toxic poison, especially to your friend, is the Deathwatch. Make no mistake, your beloved Duchess started this problem, and now, she demands someone else handle it. "Fix it"..." she'd begun to spat in anger. "To eradicate the line of defense a warrior people feel they need."
He looked at his drawing, then flipped backwards until he reached hers. The whole of the plant was represented. Voluptuous blossoms, dew on the leaves, pistols, stamen, and...thorns. Jagged, lovely, and deadly. Thorns. It was beautiful. He said nothing else.
"The Deathwatch has my respect, Kenobi, because I'd be a dead woman to show them anything BUT respect. But they have my reverence because they protect a flower with no thorns now. I only hope your Duchess realizes that, realizes what she has robbed her people of, before it is too late."
That had been the end of their conversation. Months down the road, Kenobi would lose the thornless rose...Satine Kryze. In his arms, bleeding out with no hope of taking another breath. Wielder's cautionary metaphor would haunt him for days afterwards...
...though he'd lost the woman he loved to them, he like Wielder, had to respect the Deathwatch and what it tried to return to its people. Like it or not, roses needed thorns...and some thorns, well, they could be beautiful just as much as any blossom could.
This is a piece that is going to serve dual purpose. One, it's
's commission freebie. Secondly, it's setting the scene for the Deathwatch shit in my fanfiction. Who better than a SW version of Vitani to be a deathwatch Mando. She's certainly a beautiful and deadly thorn, isn't she?
gonna be finished in Photoshop. Lemme know what you guys think
Of course, Satine railing about how the Jedi were no longer protectors of peace but were bringers of war didn't help the wolf's temper. Obi-Wan had to give Wielder that much. Satine had banked on Wielder having to keep her mouth shut like a good little Dog of the Order. Little did she know who she was dealing with.
"Make no mistake, Duchess..." It was an insult...not a title of respect when shot through Wielder's poisoned fangs. "...this Deathwatch is your creation. Not War's, not the Order's. Not the Republic's. This is your ugly baby, now put that in your spice pipe and smoke it."
The wolf had taken her leave. Literally taken it. Hadn't waited for Kenobi to dismiss her or anything. She'd simply left, glided out of sight as a wolf is want to do, leaving the echo of her strange words hanging in the air for all of them to ponder.
He still didn't understand it. How was this Satine's fault? She was a pacifist for Force-sake! How could anything called "the Deathwatch" be her creation. It was poppycock!
Once the talks were over and everything had reached an unsettled kind of calm, Obi-Wan had taken Satine in his arms, stroked her cheek, and comforted her as best as he could. The papillon was still upset, still complaining about that "wild beast" he'd brought with him on the mission. And just as any commander...and any good man who loves a woman dearly...would do, he'd assured her he'd take care of it.
The wolf was not found in her quarters. He'd damn near banked on that. She wasn't in the halls, the libraries, wasn't on the balconies. But Obi-Wan had followed Wielder since they were pups. He knew the further away he got from the trappings of a building...of a cage...the more likely he was to find her.
The Jedi Master forgot where and when exactly he was for a moment. She'd taken to wearing the trappings of civilian clothes more often lately...as though even looking the part of a Jedi Knight made her uncomfortable in her fur. A regular woman stood before him, weight shifting from hip to hip, no loose garments to disguise curves he still remembered all too well. Even having his thoughts made him feel guilty.
"Say what you came here to say, Kenobi, and leave. I'd like the chance to enjoy the rest of my night without your brown aura around me." It hurt, he had to admit that to himself. Everything said and done between the two of them hurt these days...
Slowly, reverent of her power, he approached her, hands behind his back. His large ears picked up the skritch scratching of pencil on parchment as he neared her side. Anger started to give way to curiosity. "Must you insist on upsetting the leader of a Neutral system, Wielder?" It was almost gentle. Almost. "Or would you have us earn another enemy by the time we leave."
A dangerous flash of a smile crossed her muzzle. "I think your "performance" here is what will determine whether relations stay warm and sweet with the hippie and the Order at large, Kenobi." Her innuendo was not lost on him, and he looked up in frustrated silence at the night sky, hoping the cool air would calm his blush. "But, in answer to your question, I'd rather have known enemies than questionable friends, Kenobi, but I like to keep things simple."
Silence for many minutes. Each measuring both his or her move and the possible moves of their opponent. Finally, feeling a stalemate was better than victory on either side, Obi-Wan inclined his head towards the parchment pad Wielder was scribbling, crosshatching, and smearing away on. He knew she tended to draw when frustrated or bored. Flowers in the garden in front of them. Well rendered but not photographic. More a feeling of the flowers than a portrait.
"Wanna play a little game, Obi?" His ears perked up. It had been the first time in several months that she had called him by his first name, let alone the shortened "pet" form of it.
Curiosity was getting the better of him. "Sure. Why not?"
Her calloused but surprisingly agile fingers flipped the pages of her journal, finding a virgin white page. She handed both the book and the pencil to him and, with little ceremony, said flatly. "Draw the flowers. Same ones I drew. Draw them."
He chuckled. "I don't draw..."
"Pudu, everyone draws because most of us lucky bastards can see. Draw. Draw the flowers. Nothing's being graded."
Rolling his eyes, he began to sketch carefully and methodically. Soft pink and white rings of petals protecting the inner sanctum of the flower. Feminine, fertile, gorgeous. Soft lines, delicate but rudimentary shading. After several minutes, he was done, and handed it back to her.
"So, what's the game?" He actually gave her a genuine smile. It was the most congenial interaction they had had in months. He was nearly eager to see what the point of all of this was.
The wolf smiled and rotated the journal in her hands, brown eyes looking with intelligence and a knowing sort of expertise at his handiwork. Strangely, she seemed impressed. "Good job, Obi," Wielder began, high pitched and happy. "You captured the beauty of this flower."
"Why thank you," he said, bowing almost comically. "But I'm still confused..."
The trap was sprung suddenly, she had him where she wanted him. "You drew everything that makes that flower beautiful, Obi-Wan," she observed solemnly. But, as a man who nearly wound up forever in the AgriCorps, I'd have expected more from you. You did not draw the whole importance of this plant. You took away her power."
Stunned. He was stunned. but she continued. "You left out the thorns, Obi. The very thing that protects the peace, the soft petals, the beauty, the next generation of blooms. You took them away. You left the vestige of the proud organism that once was defenseless. You have made it a confused creature with no recourse but to either die from insect and animal tampering, or...OR...you have forced it to find another way to defend itself..."
The wolf moved forward whispered a chant, a rune, a spell over the blossom her hands touched, thanking the plant for its gift as she plucked it to show him. "Make no mistake, Obi-Wan Kenobi, this beautiful and fragile thing wants desperately to live, to thrive, and to see future generations succeed because of its hard work. You take away her thorns, and she will develop something even worst to come into contact with if she truly wants to live. Plants respond by increasing the toxicity within their biochemistry when they are threatened. Anyone with a brain should know better than to make a plant feel as though it must do so."
He was losing patience. "What does all this have to do with Mandalore, Satine Kryze, politics, and the Deathwatch, not to mention your terrible behavior."
A criminal's smile. She'd gotten good at giving them recently. "It has everything to do with it, Oh Mighty and Wise leader. You see, your Duchess took away Mandalore's thorns when she abolished the warrior ways of her people in favor of a pacifism they did not understand. Now, a threatened society has grown poisonous, and the most toxic poison, especially to your friend, is the Deathwatch. Make no mistake, your beloved Duchess started this problem, and now, she demands someone else handle it. "Fix it"..." she'd begun to spat in anger. "To eradicate the line of defense a warrior people feel they need."
He looked at his drawing, then flipped backwards until he reached hers. The whole of the plant was represented. Voluptuous blossoms, dew on the leaves, pistols, stamen, and...thorns. Jagged, lovely, and deadly. Thorns. It was beautiful. He said nothing else.
"The Deathwatch has my respect, Kenobi, because I'd be a dead woman to show them anything BUT respect. But they have my reverence because they protect a flower with no thorns now. I only hope your Duchess realizes that, realizes what she has robbed her people of, before it is too late."
That had been the end of their conversation. Months down the road, Kenobi would lose the thornless rose...Satine Kryze. In his arms, bleeding out with no hope of taking another breath. Wielder's cautionary metaphor would haunt him for days afterwards...
...though he'd lost the woman he loved to them, he like Wielder, had to respect the Deathwatch and what it tried to return to its people. Like it or not, roses needed thorns...and some thorns, well, they could be beautiful just as much as any blossom could.
This is a piece that is going to serve dual purpose. One, it's
's commission freebie. Secondly, it's setting the scene for the Deathwatch shit in my fanfiction. Who better than a SW version of Vitani to be a deathwatch Mando. She's certainly a beautiful and deadly thorn, isn't she?gonna be finished in Photoshop. Lemme know what you guys think
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fanart
Species Lion
Size 789 x 1280px
File Size 1023.9 kB
Comments