"Five years," he blurts out quickly. Just so Obi-Wan is keenly aware of just how much time has passed. Four years outside of this place, one year trapped in Abraxas, though he sees Thorne as more of a home than he ever felt about the Jedi Temple. Here he feels like he can be himself, there's no expectation of him, no impossible standard he keeps climbing to reach only to fall short when it's within grasp.
His mind is still a turbulent storm, warring with itself while he stands there in practical silence, his gaze toward the ground but not truly seeing it. He should be so furious with Obi-Wan for everything that he'd done, for what he knows his Master will do when given the time. Yennefer had helped him forget his worries about home. He hadn't realized the ache he feels in his chest isn't from anxiety or anger-- it was homesickness. He'd been without anyone from his own time, trying to live up to the legacy he's told of in bits and pieces few and far between. His mind is filled with half-facts and no context. Great, monstrous things he will do and the knowledge that it doesn't even end with him.
And suddenly, there was Obi-Wan.
Younger than he should be, but still inevitably untangling the complicated mess in Anakin's heart. He feels nine years old again, cold and standing in front of a room of scrutinizing adults, missing his mother. The hands on his shoulders, so achingly gentle, are grounding and the you've gotten taller elicits what he tries to make a chuckle but comes out more of a noise caught in the back of his throat. There's a light tug on the end of a curl accompanied by a laugh he can't remember the last time he'd heard. Certainly a more uncivilized time in the midst of a firefight..
He's being tugged and at first comes the instinct to resist, but his face is being pressed into Obi-Wan's warm shoulder and there are arms wrapped around him in a hug of comfort. A hug that he certainly doesn't deserve, but is going to selfishly take. His own arms come up in a jerky, half-aborted motion before his fingers latch onto the material of Obi-Wan's shirt as if he would float away. He can feel the hot, angry sting of tears in his eyes and he hates how weak he is for caving in. For wanting to just forgive Obi-Wan of everything because he does miss the deep connection they have that no one else will really understand. How could they understand a bond like that?
He doesn't lift his head, even though Obi-Wan surely feels the dampness at his neck and the shaking in Anakin's shoulders as they stand there awkwardly. He shakes his head and sniffs to try and clear away the evidence of his emotional outburst. "I don't know that you'll want to when you know what I've done."
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His mind is still a turbulent storm, warring with itself while he stands there in practical silence, his gaze toward the ground but not truly seeing it. He should be so furious with Obi-Wan for everything that he'd done, for what he knows his Master will do when given the time. Yennefer had helped him forget his worries about home. He hadn't realized the ache he feels in his chest isn't from anxiety or anger-- it was homesickness. He'd been without anyone from his own time, trying to live up to the legacy he's told of in bits and pieces few and far between. His mind is filled with half-facts and no context. Great, monstrous things he will do and the knowledge that it doesn't even end with him.
And suddenly, there was Obi-Wan.
Younger than he should be, but still inevitably untangling the complicated mess in Anakin's heart. He feels nine years old again, cold and standing in front of a room of scrutinizing adults, missing his mother. The hands on his shoulders, so achingly gentle, are grounding and the you've gotten taller elicits what he tries to make a chuckle but comes out more of a noise caught in the back of his throat. There's a light tug on the end of a curl accompanied by a laugh he can't remember the last time he'd heard. Certainly a more uncivilized time in the midst of a firefight..
He's being tugged and at first comes the instinct to resist, but his face is being pressed into Obi-Wan's warm shoulder and there are arms wrapped around him in a hug of comfort. A hug that he certainly doesn't deserve, but is going to selfishly take. His own arms come up in a jerky, half-aborted motion before his fingers latch onto the material of Obi-Wan's shirt as if he would float away. He can feel the hot, angry sting of tears in his eyes and he hates how weak he is for caving in. For wanting to just forgive Obi-Wan of everything because he does miss the deep connection they have that no one else will really understand. How could they understand a bond like that?
He doesn't lift his head, even though Obi-Wan surely feels the dampness at his neck and the shaking in Anakin's shoulders as they stand there awkwardly. He shakes his head and sniffs to try and clear away the evidence of his emotional outburst. "I don't know that you'll want to when you know what I've done."