Au: Kid Ibani-Tatooine Era Obi-Wan Kenobi

[last_kallig]

(OOC: Content warning for mention of torture, harm done by and to children, suicidal ideation and quite possibly suicide attempt.)

Ibani is a fourteen year old Sith Acolyte and her life of pain is written in her body for those who can read it. The scars of a slave collar on her neck, the letters and numbers carved under one eye like a bantha brand, those were only the beginning. She's been shocked regularly with force lightning for years as well as being subjected to more primitive methods of torture, and all have left their mark. Scars from teeth, claws and blades mark her skin, the echoes of broken bones still visible if you look the right way in the Force.

She should be dead, and she might be shortly, despite her struggles. She doesn't know how she got HERE, wherever this hot desert is, instead of the cold desert of Korriban. The gravity is wrong, the temperature is wrong, and while the Force shouted just before she landed here it is strangely silent now. (She might be insane, in which case she should put herself down before she harms anyone, but she's waiting for more evidence on that one way or the other.) She's dying by inches of heat and thirst and she can't push her body any further, even with all the Force tricks she knows.

She crawls on her belly under an overhang of rock, collapses. She can enter a trance, reduce her need for water, but that means that without help she will simply fail to ever wake, will slip away into the Force in death. It's a long shot, but she's worth more alive than dead even to the most nefarious of persons. (She knows better than to expect mercy or kindness from strangers.)

Ibani sinks into the Force, awaiting aid or death.

Comments

[acertainpov]

What she gets, eventually, is a soft hand under her head and the sensation of something wet being applied to her lips.

Ben came out looking as soon as he felt the - whatever that was he felt in the Force earlier, and her distress made her stand out to someone looking for it, even as she slipped into her trance. So he scooped her out from under her overhang, gave her just enough moisture there to keep her alive, and carried her back to his hut.

When she comes to, she'll find herself on his own bunk, far away from the winods of his hut, and with a woven blanket lain lightly over her. At her head sits an old man with kindly eyes, light cotton robes, and no more Force presence than you'd expect from a random hermit.

He has a black melon in his hands, from which he's gently dripping the milk to her. It tastes horrible, he knows, but it's more nutritious than water and it's not just dehydration threatening her.