Captain Tyle
Mar 31st, 2004, 08:07:55 PM
This Roleplay takes place some six months after the beginning of <a href=http://www.swforums.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=25596>this thread</a>.
<font size=-3>This RP is open to two Jedi of knight rank or higher. I'd appreciate PMing me before posting though. We're after people more interested in a character-development story, where Jedi act as counselors and healers, rather than warriors.</font>
<center>Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to His disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray."
And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and distressed.
Then He said to them, "My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death; remain here and keep watch with Me."
And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed, saying "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as Thou wilt."
And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, "So, you men could not keep watch with Me for one hour?"
"Keep watching and praying, that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
He went away again a second time and prayed, saying, "My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Thy will be done."
And He came back and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.
And He left them again, and went away and prayed a third time, saying the same thing once more.
Then He came to the disciples, and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Behold, the hour is at hand and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners."
-Matthew 26: 36-45</center>
The freighter doors closed at our backs, closing the book we'd just written. I could vividly recall paragraphs on memory. Words stood etched on the back of my eyeballs like flaming neon. Every period slammed onto the parchment with the perfect symmetry of a bullet hole, the darkness of the abyss piercing the snow white calm.
Where was the story? What was I trying to understand? I had just read the ending, and I was no closer to tracing my steps to the beginning than when I'd first begun.
We stood on the tarmac for a while, taking in the sights of the unsleeping Coruscant dawn. Morning dew mixed through smog and fingers of sunlight. It was a kaleidoscope, but there was no joy in the rainbow anymore. The colors only hurt eyes too tired to see anything but grey, brown, black, and the color of dried blood.
"You know, I could use a beer. God, a good tall one like you see in those Sullustan spreads. The head streaming from the top of the glass, like nobody even cares. They won't be running out anytime soon."
I looked at them. One looked back, and his eyes agreed with me.
"Yeah, a good beer."
I licked my lips, and didn't realize how much honest truth I was speaking, instead of just small talk.
"Or some gin."
The one who looked at me shrugged absently; apathetic.
The other one just looked away, at nothing in particular.
"Smoke?"
He didn't even acknowledge me.
"Sol? You want a smoke?"
Nothing. I fished out a pathetic looking pack of stims from my jacket pocket. Not mine. I abhored the things. It was a small justice I'd liberated them from his footlocker in the first place. With a shaking hand, I pulled one particuarly crumpled cigarette from the pouch, and placed it between Sol Blake's lips.
"Y'know, this crap's bad for your health, kid."
I tried to smile at the irony, as I lit the smoke for him.
<font size=-3>This RP is open to two Jedi of knight rank or higher. I'd appreciate PMing me before posting though. We're after people more interested in a character-development story, where Jedi act as counselors and healers, rather than warriors.</font>
<center>Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to His disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray."
And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and distressed.
Then He said to them, "My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death; remain here and keep watch with Me."
And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed, saying "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as Thou wilt."
And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, "So, you men could not keep watch with Me for one hour?"
"Keep watching and praying, that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
He went away again a second time and prayed, saying, "My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Thy will be done."
And He came back and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.
And He left them again, and went away and prayed a third time, saying the same thing once more.
Then He came to the disciples, and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Behold, the hour is at hand and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners."
-Matthew 26: 36-45</center>
The freighter doors closed at our backs, closing the book we'd just written. I could vividly recall paragraphs on memory. Words stood etched on the back of my eyeballs like flaming neon. Every period slammed onto the parchment with the perfect symmetry of a bullet hole, the darkness of the abyss piercing the snow white calm.
Where was the story? What was I trying to understand? I had just read the ending, and I was no closer to tracing my steps to the beginning than when I'd first begun.
We stood on the tarmac for a while, taking in the sights of the unsleeping Coruscant dawn. Morning dew mixed through smog and fingers of sunlight. It was a kaleidoscope, but there was no joy in the rainbow anymore. The colors only hurt eyes too tired to see anything but grey, brown, black, and the color of dried blood.
"You know, I could use a beer. God, a good tall one like you see in those Sullustan spreads. The head streaming from the top of the glass, like nobody even cares. They won't be running out anytime soon."
I looked at them. One looked back, and his eyes agreed with me.
"Yeah, a good beer."
I licked my lips, and didn't realize how much honest truth I was speaking, instead of just small talk.
"Or some gin."
The one who looked at me shrugged absently; apathetic.
The other one just looked away, at nothing in particular.
"Smoke?"
He didn't even acknowledge me.
"Sol? You want a smoke?"
Nothing. I fished out a pathetic looking pack of stims from my jacket pocket. Not mine. I abhored the things. It was a small justice I'd liberated them from his footlocker in the first place. With a shaking hand, I pulled one particuarly crumpled cigarette from the pouch, and placed it between Sol Blake's lips.
"Y'know, this crap's bad for your health, kid."
I tried to smile at the irony, as I lit the smoke for him.