bridgescribble | we just have a few questions.

Entry tags:

we just have a few questions.

The Interrogation Meme

A bare room, a single chair, a naked lightbulb.

Your crimes were unspeakable, your lies were innumerable, but finally you've been caught. They bring you in, sit you down, and chain you up. No matter what power you have, no matter how strong you are, you're not going anywhere, so get comfy.

It's going to be a long night.

Rules

Post with your character, canon, and any prefs. Note whether captor or captive.
Tag around to other characters.
Roll for an option.

RNG OPTIONS

Truth serum: You know this person isn't going to confess easily, but you've got a surprise for them. This serum ought to loosen their lips a little.
Torture: The old-fashioned way might work best for this particular subject. How about those thumbscrews?
Bargain: You've got something they really want, or really need. If they fess up, if they tell the truth of the matter, they'll get it.
Blackmail: So, remember that night about ten years ago...? You know something they don't want the rest of the world to know and you're going to use it.
Seduction: Just because they're tied to a chair doesn't mean you two can't have a little fun, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He had just returned from his shift, his Eopie sitting out front. The little alarm system he had rigged up alerting him to the fact that someone was inside. Carefully making his way inside, the last thing he expected to see was a young man calling him master. A bolt of terror passed through him and the title was like a knife to his heart. Still he kept his composure even as he demanded answers.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

There was no flicker of recognition in his dull tired eyes. The man himself was unwashed and unkempt, so very unlike him. The dwelling humble and and sparse, yet with everything one needed to survive. He had been living here for several years now.

Ezra's already too off balance not to outright flinch away, emotionally reeling from the lack of recognition, lack of trust, the inexplicable lack of so much of what he associates with Obi-Wan.

The cosmos is wild and strange beyond imagining, he's learned these last few years. The Force works in mysterious ways. He must put away his expectations of this meeting - to him a reunion - would go, clearly.

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself a little, before he opens them again and replies, more calmly, "Ezra Bridger."

He takes a small step towards the older man, studying his face intently. "...do you really not know me?"

For a moment there was a slightly furrowed brow and a tilt of his head, as if the name rang a bell. Though in the next the thought was banished. He didn’t want to remember… anything really.

“Should I?” The tone a bit snippy and lacking the warmth one would expect from him in years past. There was no light in him either other than what would expect from a simple living being. Any traces of force sensitivity banished, hidden. He didn’t want it anymore.

“You should go,” he then said, intending to walk past Ezra and to dismiss him completely. He was just an old man that wanted to be left alone.

"I had hoped," Ezra says, with a heavy sigh. Of course it couldn't be that easy.

And then, more carefully, furiously trying to think of a way to get Obi-Wan to engage, "I think - I think I wouldn't be following your previous instructions, if I just gave and walked away, right this second."

There was a little sigh of frustration as the boy clearly had no intention of leaving just yet. But he wasn’t one to get violent or forceful, even now, unless he needed to protect himself. So he just went about his usual business. Putting his meager wages into a box, he then went about making his evening meal. Pulling out the bundle of fabric that contained the little bit of meat he had stolen for himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly. Not looking at Ezra as he put on some water to boil. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

This lad was too young for him to really know in any meaningful way. He had been known by many, though he would now rather be forgotten.

"I suppose it's possible," Ezra allows. He could have his wired crossed, in some way he hasn't truly begun to fathom. Even the first time he'd met Master Kenobi, the man had felt like a Jedi, and this person doesn't; it's disconcerting.

But he does know how hiding so completely in the Force works, even if he doesn't like cutting himself off enough so perfectly.

"But I don't think so, Ben," he muses, slipping that name in check the alias. And then, he continues with a different sort of check, quoting the message he's listen to so many times. "Be secret. But be strong."

Saying his name gets a pause and he turns his head. Not quite looking over his shoulder, but almost. He didn’t remembering giving it to this Ezra.

Going back to what he was doing, he started cutting up some unpleasant looking dry vegetables and put the pieces in the pot. He then froze, stiffening as he dropped the meat into the pot too. His lip twitching slightly.

“What is there to be strong for?” It was said as more of a bitter statement than an actual question. Once he had given a message of hope, but that had been before… before everything had been lost. Everything except the boy that is, and even then he was only able to look on from a distance.

Oh. You really have been isolating yourself for too long.. That is what Ezra thinks, glad that Ben has his back turned, because he doubts he could keep the knee-jerk horror completely off his face.

What he says, noncommittally, is, "Hmm. When I thought I was completely on my own, I was always very aware that one slip up, I could easily be dead. And Lothal's a nice planet." He glances to the mouth of the cave, out at the desert. "Aside from the infestation of Imperials. Wouldn't be hard, to just...stop, out here, in the wastes. But you haven't, yet."

It certainly wasn’t healthy to be so alone for so long. Least of all for a man who had spent most of his life surrounded by people and being able to feel everything around him. Without the Force he felt even more alone, only exercising it during his feeble attempts to reach his old master. Attempts that had so far proven to be futile.

“Perhaps I’m just lucky,” Ben says just as noncommittally. He only did what he had to, to get by. There were certainly times he wished the desert would just take him. Put him out of his misery. There was just one thing, one thread that still tethered him to this mortal coil.

Stirring the pot of what could be called food, he then moved to the vaporator and filled a cup with water. There was a pause and then he filled a second cup. Walking over to Ezra, he offered him one of the cups. The boy may be an unwanted visitor, but Ben wasn’t so unkind as to not offer him a drink in this unforgiving place.

"You believe in luck, now?" Ezra shoots back somewhere between skepticism and just a trace of teasing. He is, of course, familiar with the adage that there is no such thing, only the Force.

Then he blinks, surprised, when Ben brings him a cup, and softens. He'd been foolish enough to set out unprepared, years ago from his perspective, to find Master Kenob the first ime. This time he has enough water in his pack he should be fine to get back to Anchorhead, but any kindness is welcome. Kindness give him hope that coming out here wasn't a complete mistake.

"Thank you," he says, with emphasis, trying to catch Ben's eyes, to keep him from immediately turning away again.

That comment drew the faintest of smirks from Ben. No, he had never believed in luck and this boy seemed to know that. Seemed to know him somehow. Handing him the cup even felt familiar somehow. Warm. Like long talks over tea.

The gratitude catches him a little off guard. It was as rare was water around here. But he nodded slowly in acknowledgement before meeting Ezra’s gaze. His blue eyes looking something akin to a frightened animal peering out from behind a rock. Uncertain, confused, but also a little curious.

“Who are you?” This time the question was more genuine and imploring.

And he'd always tried to answer serious questions from Obi-Wan as honestly as he could, hadn't he? He doesn't like the idea of doing any differently, now.

But what parts of the truth to start with? He takes a slow sip of water, like he tries to work that out.

"I wasn't raised in the Temple on Coruscant. I saw the warning you sent out, long after, when I stumbled my way into opening a holocron I'd stolen. Not that I had any idea what it was, or even had a word for the Force, before that moment. But the man I'd stolen it from was Temple raised. That message had saved him. As I said, I'd been on my own; he and the crew he was part of took me in. I got a new family, one bigger than I really understood, at first."

Another short ship of water, and he adds, "I am a Jedi, like my masters before me."

That sure was an info dump, and Ben has to take some time to process it. Listening quietly as Ezra gives him a summary of who he is. However, what little glimmer was in the man’s eyes fades when he brings up that one word.

“The Jedi are gone,” he says. “There aren’t any left.” It’s then that he turned away and went back to his bubbling stew. Taking the small pot off the tiny stove. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Jedi.

Ezra suppresses a sigh, before he replies, dryly, "Isn't that what everyone said about the Sith, before the first time you crossed paths with Maul?"

Taking a spoon and his steaming pot by the handle, Ben casts Ezra a look before walking away. The man heading outside to a rocky ledge where he sits himself down and begins eating his dinner. Ignoring him might not make Ezra go away but he can still try.

Whatever he’s eating smells terrible, but Ben was clearly used to it as blew it off and stuck a spoonful in his mouth.

Ezra does sigh, then, and drops to sit a few feet away. He notes the terrible food, but he's eaten literal trash, so he's not judging. Wishes Ben had better, because Obi-Wan Kenobi, deserves all good things, as far as Ezra's concerned, but he doesn't say anything.

In fact, he stays quiet while Ben is actually eating. Simply takes slow, measured breaths. Not really a full meditation, not even intentionally touching the Force at all, just trying to keep some sort of calm and patience, rather than giving into frustration and fidgeting.

As Ezra is quiet, Ben is too, making a pointed effort to not look at him. Taking his leisurely time to simply eat his food in peace and contemplate the boy. How he knew anything about Maul was a mystery to Ben. That was a long time ago, long before Ezra was even born. It was not a pleasant thing to remember and makes him yearn to hear his master’s voice all the more.

The silence gives time for Ben’s agitation to die down a bit. Eventually finishing his meal he sets the pot aside and looks at Ezra again. “Why are you here? Have you come just to torment me?”

"Not that," Ezra says, immediate and fierce. "Never that." Then he hesitates and adds, reluctantly. "Not intentionally, not to be cruel."

Sometimes pain is inevitable, even when trying to be compassionate, like lancing a wound. But neither does he want to just dismiss the pain his presence may be causing. He can't tell, yet, whether he really should leave.

He grimaces and shifts, uncomfortable. "The simple answer is I wanted to see you. And I had sreasons to believe that - that would be...welcome." He smiles, faintly. "And right this minute, I'm too worried about you to feel good about just going, 'oh, my mistake'."

He's also not sure where else to go. Surely making his way to Lothal is out of the question. Ultimately he will bow to the guidance of the Force, but he'd honestly believed that he had been, and here he is.

Again he goes quiet for several moments, his expression softening a little bit. He had been unsure if this was all a trick. Some sort of ruse to reveal who he was and lure him to his death. Yet this boy seems sincere.

“Why,” he then asks. “Why come looking for me? You should be hiding yourself. Here you will just draw attention.”

It was a small admission to who he was, a risk to be sure. But Ezra seemed to already know anyway.

"That's way more complicated," Ezra admits. "I'm not sure where to start."

He huffs a laugh. "I really had hoped you would just, uh, know certain things, and we could make decisions from there, with all that information, together."

He swallows hard. "I know Force sensitives interacting is always a risk. Please know that if danger came to...you-" To Luke. Or Leia, for that matter. "I'd do everything I could do draw it away. I-I'd rather die, then bring the Empire down on you."

Ben can only look at him with visible confusion. Not just because of the vague answer, but also because he didn’t understand why he cared so much about him personally. It was… strange and foreign to him after all this time. Nobody really cared about him anymore, and he was fine with that, or at least he thought he was. He questioned if even his old master cared anymore, or perhaps if Yoda had just been wrong. Then this kid comes along wanting to connect and he’s just not sure what to make of it.

“I… don’t understand,” he finally admits.

"I know I'm being vague and that's confusing," Ezra says ruefully, and flashes a warm smile.

"But I get the sense that you don't mean the bits of my life story I'm dodging explaining. What about what I said made you more confused? I bet I could guess if we were both open to the Force, but-"

He spreads a hand and gives a half shrug. He likes to think he'd gotten pretty good at following his master's shifts in mood, the direction of his thoughts, if not the specifics. Ben is so closed off, trying to read his mood like that could be beyond rude, even if Ezra managed to pick anything up.

Ben gives him the side eye when Ezra mentions reading him if they were both open to the Force. It was true he was very closed off, and if Ezra can tell, well that speaks of his abilities.

He shifts a bit uncomfortably at the question though. “I don’t understand why you care about a washed up old man.” He wasn’t the man he used to be, that much is clear. He wasn’t even a Jedi anymore. If that was all he was looking for, a great Jedi master, he should have left in disappointment by now. Instead Ezra was rather persistent and he didn’t know why.

Ezra's gut reaction is to deny that Ben is that old, or washed up, but he swallows that impulse down. Right this minute, that would just send Ben into withdrawing more, he thinks.

"Your family would care," he says, softly, entreating. "If you were...home, but for some reason you couldn't go out into the galaxy, or sit on the Counsel, or any of that. They would still care, wouldn't they?"

He might not be that old but he sure felt it, and he felt washed up. Ben was just a guy trying to get through life. There was nothing great about him. That was the image he had made for himself and settled into it. It was safer that way.

Scoffing at the mention of family, he got up from his seat to walk back inside. “What family,” he mutters. “In case you haven’t gotten the memo, they’re all dead. What they would think hardly matters.” With that he goes about cleaning up his pot and utensil.

The Interrogation Meme

Rules

RNG OPTIONS

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject