college fair! and also journal entries
Jul. 12th, 2007 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardSo the college fair was today and I went, obviously, and talked to a lot of schools that I was interested in: Davidson College (NC), Embry-Riddle Aeronautical College (FL and AZ), the Air Force Academy about AFROTC, Scripps College (CA), Wellesley College (MA), and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (dude, if you need me to tell you what state that's in...). I didn't get to talk to a couple of schools I'm interested in -- Stanford University, Dickinson College, and Duke University -- but I don't mind particularly. It was interesting.
I have a lot of journal entries because I've had two days where class starts at eleven, so I get, like, an extra hour and a half of writing.
"Naomi," Houlihan croaked through cracked lips.
Gilman turned her head slightly. "Ma'am," she whispered, unnecessarily formal. Her eyes were unfocused.
"Stuart?" Houlihan said next, to silence, and then, "Danny?" No reply there either. "Paul?"
"I saw them...taking him away," Gilman said shakily. "Out of his fighter..."
Houlihan pressed her hand to her head, a little surprised she could move at all, and looked up to a pattern of reflected light caught in the ceiling, the walls, even the floor. It dappled their skins with a faint glow.
Gilman was curled in on herself, face turned toward Houlihan. There were cuts on her face, red and angry against the dark curve of a spectacular black eye, and she was holding her arm at an odd angle cradled against her body.
Rusty pushed his heels against the bed, breathing hard, eyes glazed, hands scrabbling at the sheets as Danny lowered himself painstakingly slowly between his legs, a look of extreme concentration on his face.
Linus made a pained sound in the back of his throat.
"Holy God," Turk Malloy said like he was praying but didn't know what the hell for. "Holy God."
Rusty turned his head back for Danny, showing off the long expanse of his throat, and Danny lowered his mouth to it.
*
"He's in love with you," Padme says.
Obi-Wan frowns at her where she's sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, legs crossed primly at the ankles. "Senator," he says politely, "with all due respect, you're --"
Padme sighs. "Yes, General Kenobi," she says, "I'm dead. Which means you probably knew it anyway and it's no great surprise."
"The Jedi are forbidden love," Obi-Wan says, because there's nothing else he can offer up to a figment of his own imagination.
Padme sighs again, said. "He loved you and he was in love with you and he wanted you. He had to choose between you and me, you know, and maybe if you'd let him in the same way I had --"
"Enough," Obi-Wan says, leaning over slightly, heels of his hands pressed to his forehead. "Enough. Senator, just go -- please go."
She leaves quietly, flitting along the ground like a ghost. Obi-Wan doesn't look up to see if she's casting a shadow, because if his delusions have learned that, then he's truly gone mad.
*
Anakin leaned forward. "Close the door," he said to Luke in a voice expecting to be obeyed, the one he'd learned from Obi-Wan. A Jedi Master's voice, a general's command voice.
He looked back, irritated, when there was no reply. Luke was still standing outside the room and the door was still open.
"I said, close the damn door," Anakin snapped, and when it didn't happen, raised his hand and slid the door closed himself, ignoring the startled expression on Luke's face.
"Master," he said, open hands hovering just above Obi-Wan's, palm up on his knees, "don't you know me? It's Anakin."
Obi-Wan's eyes were shut -- not for meditation, but screwed tightly shut as if he was in physical pain. "I always know you," he managed,t he harmonics in his voice shifting between old and young. "I can tell -- you from him -- but I can't quite --" He jerked his head back suddenly, muscles in his neck standing out, and screamed, blindly terrified and full of pain.
"Master -- Obi-Wan!" Anakin yelled, scrambling forward to catch him. As soon as Anakin touched him Obi-Wan froze, panting like he'd just chased a wabba through the Cirkala highlands. "Obi-Wan?"
"I can't," Obi-Wan managed, and he was shaking now, a fine tremor beneath Anakin's hands. "I can't -- tell myself from him and -- and he -- he hates you, Anakin, hates you and -- and loves you and hates him -- stars' end --" He jerked again and Anakin tightened his grip around his shoulders, too hard maybe, but -- "I can't get him out, Anakin, I can't, and he can't see you without seeing -- him."
"Who?" Anakin said, and felt Obi-Wan shudder up and down his spine, spasming again. Helpless, he clutched at Obi-Wan. "I'm not him, Obi-Wan, I'm not --"
Obi-Wan rolled over to look at him. "He wore your face," he said calmly, and it wasn't Anakin's Obi-Wan who said it.
"Do you think he's dangerous?"
"Not to us."
*
"Obi-Wan," Anakin whispered, barely stirring the air.
His former Master glanced over at him and nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes sharp with calculation.
*
"Hey!" Anakin started, indignant. "That's my lightsaber!"
*
Obi-Wan woke in a tangle of sheets that smelled like Anakin and sex -- the first familiar, the second not -- that shifted slightly when his partner made a contented sighing sound in the back of his throat and reached out to run his palm down Obi-Wan's chest. Anakin had been half-awake for some time now, Obi-Wan realized.
*
"Come in, come in." Rodney fumbled a stack of quizzes needing grading onto a side table and belatedly stepped back from the door, watching Sheppard with what was probably really badly concealed amazement.
Anakin would have scrambled back if Obi-Wan's hands hadn't closed suddenly on his wrists. The look in his former Master's eyes was -- not quite sane.
"Master?" Anakin whispered, voice strained. "Obi-Wan?"
"You can't fool me, Darth," Obi-Wan said with a strange, sad smile on his face. "I knew him better than anyone else, even you. You can't keep me trapped in illusion."
He's mad, Anakin thought. He's a crazy old man. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You can't remake the dead, Darth," Obi-Wan said, half-patient, half-defiant. "You can't think this would fool me for long. I knew the real Anakin Skywalker, the one you murdered."
"What?" Anakin said, startled, and Obi-Wan took advantage of his distraction to headbutt him, forehead cracking against the bridge of his nose, and rose with less than his usual grace. He snapped out a hand for Anakin's lightsaber.
"Master, no!" Anakin yelled, scrambling up. He held up his empty hands. "I won't -- Obi-Wan, I won't fight you."
"I won't be a slave to a Sith lord," Obi-Wan said. Anakin's lightsaber sizzled into life in the recycled air between them. "I took this from you twenty years ago on Mustafar. What have you done with Luke?"
"Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "Obi-Wan, fight him, you have to fight him, I can't do it -- Obi-Wan!" His hands snapped forwards, the Force stopping Obi-Wan's attack.
Obi-Wan's face shifted subtly, his jaw working, and he spat, "Don't touch him."
*
For weeks after the attack on the Ministry all Harry can see is Sirius's face, young and handsome again, as he says incredulously, "James?" in a voice Harry has never heard him use before.
*
"I loved him," Sirius snapped, "and I was there, so don't you dare talk about him like that."
*
"No," she heard Nakin say, soft and sad. "Not you too, Aayla. You were the best of us."
"And you were a fool to think you could hide from us forever, Skywalker," the Twi'lek woman said. "You could live yet. There's still time. Let me take you back to Coruscant and the Emperor will welcome you gladly."
"Never." Nakin met her eyes. "You forget, Aayla: I was at the Temple when Sidious gave the order. I was on Coruscant when he was dragging children into the streets and murdering them like animals. I'll die before I join you."
"Then so be it." She ignited her lightsaber. "I'll take you back to Coruscant dead or alive. Which one is your choice."
He nodded, solemn, and straightened from his streetfighter's crouch, hands going to his blasters. Aayla's chin tilted up. "Defeat a Jedi with blasters, Skywalker? All those years on the Rim must have cooked whatever brain cells you had left after that stunt on Cato Neimodia."
"That was Obi-Wan, not me," Nakin said, unsmiling. "There is a difference."
"Yes," Aayla said. "He decided to come along quietly."
"What?" Nakin's head jerked up and she attacked, lightsaber sweeping in towards him. He vaulted over it, body twisted in a bow as his back passed inches above the humming red blade, and landed on his feet, both blasters somehow suddenly in his hands.
Also, Natalie Babbitt (author of Tuck Everlasting, among other things) came to talk to us today. Suddenly I love Brown, and I've never even read any of her books.
I have a lot of journal entries because I've had two days where class starts at eleven, so I get, like, an extra hour and a half of writing.
"Naomi," Houlihan croaked through cracked lips.
Gilman turned her head slightly. "Ma'am," she whispered, unnecessarily formal. Her eyes were unfocused.
"Stuart?" Houlihan said next, to silence, and then, "Danny?" No reply there either. "Paul?"
"I saw them...taking him away," Gilman said shakily. "Out of his fighter..."
Houlihan pressed her hand to her head, a little surprised she could move at all, and looked up to a pattern of reflected light caught in the ceiling, the walls, even the floor. It dappled their skins with a faint glow.
Gilman was curled in on herself, face turned toward Houlihan. There were cuts on her face, red and angry against the dark curve of a spectacular black eye, and she was holding her arm at an odd angle cradled against her body.
Rusty pushed his heels against the bed, breathing hard, eyes glazed, hands scrabbling at the sheets as Danny lowered himself painstakingly slowly between his legs, a look of extreme concentration on his face.
Linus made a pained sound in the back of his throat.
"Holy God," Turk Malloy said like he was praying but didn't know what the hell for. "Holy God."
Rusty turned his head back for Danny, showing off the long expanse of his throat, and Danny lowered his mouth to it.
*
"He's in love with you," Padme says.
Obi-Wan frowns at her where she's sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, legs crossed primly at the ankles. "Senator," he says politely, "with all due respect, you're --"
Padme sighs. "Yes, General Kenobi," she says, "I'm dead. Which means you probably knew it anyway and it's no great surprise."
"The Jedi are forbidden love," Obi-Wan says, because there's nothing else he can offer up to a figment of his own imagination.
Padme sighs again, said. "He loved you and he was in love with you and he wanted you. He had to choose between you and me, you know, and maybe if you'd let him in the same way I had --"
"Enough," Obi-Wan says, leaning over slightly, heels of his hands pressed to his forehead. "Enough. Senator, just go -- please go."
She leaves quietly, flitting along the ground like a ghost. Obi-Wan doesn't look up to see if she's casting a shadow, because if his delusions have learned that, then he's truly gone mad.
*
Anakin leaned forward. "Close the door," he said to Luke in a voice expecting to be obeyed, the one he'd learned from Obi-Wan. A Jedi Master's voice, a general's command voice.
He looked back, irritated, when there was no reply. Luke was still standing outside the room and the door was still open.
"I said, close the damn door," Anakin snapped, and when it didn't happen, raised his hand and slid the door closed himself, ignoring the startled expression on Luke's face.
"Master," he said, open hands hovering just above Obi-Wan's, palm up on his knees, "don't you know me? It's Anakin."
Obi-Wan's eyes were shut -- not for meditation, but screwed tightly shut as if he was in physical pain. "I always know you," he managed,t he harmonics in his voice shifting between old and young. "I can tell -- you from him -- but I can't quite --" He jerked his head back suddenly, muscles in his neck standing out, and screamed, blindly terrified and full of pain.
"Master -- Obi-Wan!" Anakin yelled, scrambling forward to catch him. As soon as Anakin touched him Obi-Wan froze, panting like he'd just chased a wabba through the Cirkala highlands. "Obi-Wan?"
"I can't," Obi-Wan managed, and he was shaking now, a fine tremor beneath Anakin's hands. "I can't -- tell myself from him and -- and he -- he hates you, Anakin, hates you and -- and loves you and hates him -- stars' end --" He jerked again and Anakin tightened his grip around his shoulders, too hard maybe, but -- "I can't get him out, Anakin, I can't, and he can't see you without seeing -- him."
"Who?" Anakin said, and felt Obi-Wan shudder up and down his spine, spasming again. Helpless, he clutched at Obi-Wan. "I'm not him, Obi-Wan, I'm not --"
Obi-Wan rolled over to look at him. "He wore your face," he said calmly, and it wasn't Anakin's Obi-Wan who said it.
"Do you think he's dangerous?"
"Not to us."
*
"Obi-Wan," Anakin whispered, barely stirring the air.
His former Master glanced over at him and nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes sharp with calculation.
*
"Hey!" Anakin started, indignant. "That's my lightsaber!"
*
Obi-Wan woke in a tangle of sheets that smelled like Anakin and sex -- the first familiar, the second not -- that shifted slightly when his partner made a contented sighing sound in the back of his throat and reached out to run his palm down Obi-Wan's chest. Anakin had been half-awake for some time now, Obi-Wan realized.
*
"Come in, come in." Rodney fumbled a stack of quizzes needing grading onto a side table and belatedly stepped back from the door, watching Sheppard with what was probably really badly concealed amazement.
Anakin would have scrambled back if Obi-Wan's hands hadn't closed suddenly on his wrists. The look in his former Master's eyes was -- not quite sane.
"Master?" Anakin whispered, voice strained. "Obi-Wan?"
"You can't fool me, Darth," Obi-Wan said with a strange, sad smile on his face. "I knew him better than anyone else, even you. You can't keep me trapped in illusion."
He's mad, Anakin thought. He's a crazy old man. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You can't remake the dead, Darth," Obi-Wan said, half-patient, half-defiant. "You can't think this would fool me for long. I knew the real Anakin Skywalker, the one you murdered."
"What?" Anakin said, startled, and Obi-Wan took advantage of his distraction to headbutt him, forehead cracking against the bridge of his nose, and rose with less than his usual grace. He snapped out a hand for Anakin's lightsaber.
"Master, no!" Anakin yelled, scrambling up. He held up his empty hands. "I won't -- Obi-Wan, I won't fight you."
"I won't be a slave to a Sith lord," Obi-Wan said. Anakin's lightsaber sizzled into life in the recycled air between them. "I took this from you twenty years ago on Mustafar. What have you done with Luke?"
"Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "Obi-Wan, fight him, you have to fight him, I can't do it -- Obi-Wan!" His hands snapped forwards, the Force stopping Obi-Wan's attack.
Obi-Wan's face shifted subtly, his jaw working, and he spat, "Don't touch him."
*
For weeks after the attack on the Ministry all Harry can see is Sirius's face, young and handsome again, as he says incredulously, "James?" in a voice Harry has never heard him use before.
*
"I loved him," Sirius snapped, "and I was there, so don't you dare talk about him like that."
*
"No," she heard Nakin say, soft and sad. "Not you too, Aayla. You were the best of us."
"And you were a fool to think you could hide from us forever, Skywalker," the Twi'lek woman said. "You could live yet. There's still time. Let me take you back to Coruscant and the Emperor will welcome you gladly."
"Never." Nakin met her eyes. "You forget, Aayla: I was at the Temple when Sidious gave the order. I was on Coruscant when he was dragging children into the streets and murdering them like animals. I'll die before I join you."
"Then so be it." She ignited her lightsaber. "I'll take you back to Coruscant dead or alive. Which one is your choice."
He nodded, solemn, and straightened from his streetfighter's crouch, hands going to his blasters. Aayla's chin tilted up. "Defeat a Jedi with blasters, Skywalker? All those years on the Rim must have cooked whatever brain cells you had left after that stunt on Cato Neimodia."
"That was Obi-Wan, not me," Nakin said, unsmiling. "There is a difference."
"Yes," Aayla said. "He decided to come along quietly."
"What?" Nakin's head jerked up and she attacked, lightsaber sweeping in towards him. He vaulted over it, body twisted in a bow as his back passed inches above the humming red blade, and landed on his feet, both blasters somehow suddenly in his hands.
Also, Natalie Babbitt (author of Tuck Everlasting, among other things) came to talk to us today. Suddenly I love Brown, and I've never even read any of her books.