#i may or may not still be procrastinating my exchange fic dON'T come for me i am very nervous about it and brain has literally no more ideas

[renegadeontherunn]

angstpril day 8: music to my ears

hastily-written fic I didn’t proofread, my beloved pt II

(tw: implied torture, but nothing descriptive/graphic)

“Why aren’t you screaming?”

It was a stupid question, an immature, unbalanced one that would’ve had her Master reprimanding her afterwards. Luckily, her Master wasn’t here and so Ahsoka was feeling particularly reckless.

The man looked up at her—eyes still holding that look. That pitying, sad look that set Ahsoka’s teeth on edge. His face was all hurt betrayal, longing for the past, etc. etc. Ahsoka hated it. She hated him.

“You should be screaming.”

His voice was rough as he said, “Sorry to disappoint.”

Ahsoka stepped closer, trying to keep herself under control. “If you still have enough energy to be sarcastic, then surely you can tell me where they are.”

“Where who is?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Like I told you earlier, my dear, I don’t know anything.”

Ahsoka bristled. “Don’t call me that.” Her hands tightened instinctively around a lightsaber hilt, the familiar energy of the crystal helping to calm some of her agitation. She had to keep her cool if she was ever going to do this. Once again, she leaned forward, her hand out, calling on the Force to pierce into the man’s mind. What are you hiding in there?

But once again, she could only brush surface thoughts, facts and intel she already knew. Things he knew she knew. He was being purposely defiant.

Ahsoka shouted, curling her hand into a fist. The man’s eyes widened as she choked him, his hands fighting against the manacles fastened on the edge of the chair. Just as his face reddened and his eyes began to flutter, Ahsoka stopped. She was doubly frustrated now—not only was he not cooperating but she could tell her little persuasive tactic had failed. And it hadn’t eased any of the simmering anger in her either. 

“You always were so infuriating.”

The man slowed his coughing and spluttering. “You always were persistent.”

Her shoulders tensed. “Don’t speak like you know me. You don’t. You knew her.”

“Ahsoka—” 

“Stop!”

That sad, heartbroken look again. Ahsoka got the feeling—the infuriating, gnawing feeling—that if his hands were free, they’d be opening for a hug. She ignored the way the back of her mind ached. The tiny part of her that was still the other one raging and fighting against where Ahsoka had caged her. Shut up. This man’s screams of pain would cover up her own, like all the rest had. Maybe then the other girl would finally be quiet. Maybe then she could actually forget. 

“The only things I want to hear from you, Obi-Wan, are either the information I want to know, or screaming.”

The Force tinged with fury and anticipation. 

“Or both. Both is good too.”