fandomhigh | Ethics, Tuesday

Their class today took place in an ordinary classroom, with ordinary desks and ordinary chairs, and an ordinary Jedi in thick robes who looked as if for all the world, everything was ordinary at the moment. Obi-Wan had been with the Order all his life; deflecting feelings such as desire into the Force was old hat.

Mildly irritating old hat that he had to work slightly harder for than usual, but still: old hat. The only thing that was different was that now he held some mild concern as to the identity of the 'Jaye' who had sent him flowers.

"I hope your week with the babies has been educational," he said, when it became apparent that Anakin would be late. "Difficult as some of you appear to have found the task, going by what I've heard on the radio. Today, you may relinquish the children, and we will talk about the lessons you have learned..."

...and speaking of lessons, the kids were getting an unintentional one of completely inappropriate Huttese--and Tusken curses, with a bit of Bothawui thrown in for effect--as a glitter bedrenched blob that could only be Anakin stalked into the classroom and stood in front of the class. "I hate everything and everyone," he declared, then pointed a (glittery) finger at Obi-Wan. "And one word about hate being of the Dark Side and I'm punting you out the nearest window."

Congratulations, class: not only would you be learning educational lessons about babies and curse words, you would also be there to witness the deployment of the nuclear-grade epic eyeroll Obi-Wan had spent years developing: Codename: Anakin. "I would concern myself with letting your anger pass into the Force, first, before moving on to more complicated emotions such as hatred," he said, with barely constrained amusement.

"I haven't missed you even a little bit," the glitter pile muttered. "I've noticed the...sense...of the island as I arrived," he added, "so please don't do anything or anyone you'll regret when this wears off."

It was hard to take a sex-ed PSA seriously from what amounted to a walking, talking, disco ball, so don't worry if you can't, class.

"Good advice," Obi-Wan said, in desperate hope that his own presence might bring some actual respectability and truth to the disco pile's words. "Now, that aside: today, you may tell the class what you learned about responsibility and caretaking in this past week. Please stay at your desks as you do so, for reasons my colleague has already explained."

He'd pull up his hood, however. Anakin was rather safe from any teenager's directed interest, being that there were limits to what one could find attractive about a pile of glitter. But he had been in enough troublesome situations that he'd like to decrease the risk of being the target of anyone's looks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Obi-Wan nodded.

He was careful to ensure there was a kind smile visible on his face when he spoke next; he did not want her to take this too harshly. "Then perhaps the lesson is to be more mindful of your priorities," he said. "Accidents come easiest when we are not paying attention."

"I try to be better about... things like that."

Really, at this point, it wasn't even that she needed to keep her powers a secret. Around here, nobody really cared. Except maybe Anna. Anna... was never allowed to know. But Anna wasn't in the room.

It was more force of habit than anything, the fact that she wasn't just openly discussing that she had serious self-control issues.

"There were a lot of little things factoring into what happened. That's really not an excuse, because you're right. I did lose sight of my priorities, and I... I can't really afford to do that."

In fairness, the droid baby had never been her top priority, though. It ranked pretty low, somewhere on the same level as 'make certain your stockings are properly folded' or 'maybe today I'll learn to knit.' It possibly even ranked a, 'I wonder how s'mores would taste if you added peanut butter.' And that was if one was being generous.

Yes, well. That might have been part of what Obi-Wan meant about priorities, Elsa. Schoolwork fell under that banner as well, as far as he was concerned, especially when it was schoolwork that simulated an actual life.

Not that he'd say that.

"What would you do differently next time?" he asked. "Would you do something differently?"

"I wouldn't be a mother in the first place," Elsa said, simply, if a bit firmly. "For a... number of reasons I'm not about to discuss in class. Ever. And if it was an actual person, I would've cared enough to find somebody else to take care of it, because that's the best thing that I can do for anybody that relies on me for half as much as an infant would. I can't be that kind of person."

Being a Queen was different. She could rule a kingdom from a distance. But she couldn't even bring herself to hug her own little sister. She couldn't raise a baby.

Considering that had been more or less exactly what Obi-Wan had done with the infant Luke - for, among others, similar reasons - he could hardly argue with that.

"You could also ask for help, if you're stuck with it as you were now," he said, still smiling a little bit. "But those are good options, if you are tasked with responsibility for something you know you cannot do yourself."

He wanted to ask for the specifics - why, to be particular - but she had said she didn't wish to discuss it, and he would respect that.

She would have appreciated that if she'd known. It wasn't that she wasn't prepared to talk about it if somebody asked, these days. But it wasn't the sort of talk she wanted to have with an audience the size of the entire Ethics roster. That sort of talk came with too much guilt and too many raw emotions for that.

"I suppose the trick then is knowing who to ask for help," she noted, biting her lip for a moment. "If it's a big enough responsibility, not many people might be willing to step up to accept it."

Or if it screamed half as much and looked half as horrifying as the droid babies did, while still really only being simulations of life. She didn't think anybody was crazy enough to want one of those in their life.

There had been pollen, and then a loud, insistent droid that kept her from seeking out Joker to take care of that particular, insistent itch -- and kept her from sleeping, either. (Well, at least for her half of the week.)

And now she was watching one of their teachers raise his eyebrows and imply Elsa -- Elsa -- was some careless, thoughtless chit, and watching Elsa retreat further and further into her shell of guilt and self-blame. And her last nerve snapped.

"Don't you dare lecture her about priorities," Eleanor seethed.

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped to Eleanor immediately. "Miss Holloway," he said sharply, "Control yourself. Anger has no place in this classroom."

"I am controlled," she snapped. She wasn't out of her chair, screaming, or throwing fireballs. That counted as controlled. And anger had been, some days, the only thing she could cling to, to save her from utter despair.

"This assignment was terrifying for several of us, for reasons that perhaps you haven't even considered. Elsa tried. I'm sorry that she fell short of your lofty expectations, but she tried. I'm not going to sit here quietly while you insist that she simply didn't try hard enough."

Eleanor couldn't quite believe she was doing this, saying these things in class. This would end badly. But if he was yelling at her, then he wasn't using that tone with Elsa. The one that made her crouch further and further into herself. She would accept whatever price that came at.

Ethics, Tuesday

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility

Re: Discuss: Responsibility