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Obi-wan peers as best he can through the driving rain. He thought he saw.... Yes. There it was again. A flickering light in the distance. The force doesn't hint of danger, so he alters his course slightly, and trudges through the downpour towards it.
Sooner than he expects, he stumbles to a halt as a flash of lightning silhouettes a massive keep against the dark sky. Well, Obi-wan thinks, it'll keep the rain off at least.
He knocks on the heavy doors, but they swing open with an ominous creak as soon as his hand makes contact.
"Hello there!" He calls into the darkness.
He debates the merits of entering without invitation while he waits for a response, but a sheet of freezing water cascading from the roof makes his decision for him. He ducks inside.
Obi-wan can pick out very little through the darkness, but the whole place radiates an air of disuse. The air feels cold and still, echoey, empty in the living force. He slips slightly deeper into the force, because there's something decidedly strange about this place. There are force presences here, scuttling closer, but they're dim, only half-alive, suppressed and banked somehow.
"Why are you standing in the dark?" A deep voice asks, and this force-presence is nothing more than a smouldering ember, smothered, but determined. Patient. Obi-wan looks up, into two glowing amber eyes watching him from the darkness.
"I hope you don't mind my coming in," Obi-wan asks, "I'm afraid it's rather wet out."
The voice hums. "It usually is, here."
There's a deep inhale, and then a burst of fire. Obi-wan closes his eyes to avoid being blinded by the sudden light, and when he opens them, torches are lit all around the walls. Now he can see, the keep he's in is distinctly Mandalorian in style, soft tapestries and occasional mosaics decorating the walls and floor. But what takes most of his attention is the being in front of him.
The dragon in front of him.
Obi-wan hadn't known they were real. But they look exactly the same as any dragon from any children's story. Four legs, long tail, scaled skin, leathery wings folded along their back, and apparently, the ability to breathe fire. They're patterned in black and white, but the scales on their neck and underbelly are a deep orange-gold.
They're studying Obi-wan in turn, and Obi-wan gets the feeling they're not wholly impressed. Which is fair, he's soaked to the skin, his sodden robes heavy over his shoulders, and he's managed to drip quite a sizeable puddle onto the floor.
He smiles at them.
"I really am very sorry about this."
The dragon gives him a look that's only about three steps away from an eye roll.
"Come on." They say, turning back into the corridor they emerged from. There's still no danger in the force, so Obi-wan steps up to follow.
"Most people don't venture out into dark and dangerous forests in weather like this." The dragon comments mildly. Obi-wan feels very politely judged.
"I can imagine better nights for it." Obi-wan agrees, and the dragon turns their head slightly so Obi-wan can see the sideways look they're giving him. He rubs at his beard to hide a smile. "May I ask your name?"
The dragon shoots him another sideways glance, considering, and Obi-wan gets the impression that something about the question has surprised him. He has no idea why.
"Cody." The dragon says after a long moment.
"Well it's lovely to meet you, Cody." Obi-wan says, dialing the charm up to maximum. "I'm Obi-wan. Thank you for the shelter."
"I could be planning to eat you." Cody points out, dry as dust.
Obi-wan hums, amused. "Oh, you could, but you're not."
Cody raises one of the ridges above his eyes in the exact same way a human would raise an eyebrow, and Obi-wan can't stop a chuckle. "Trust me, my dear, I am extremely well acquainted with beings trying to eat me. I'm afraid I feel entirely safe with you. Unless you're trying to fatten me up first, that is, but I do believe that should leave me with plenty of opportunity to make a daring escape."
Both of Cody's brows are raised now.
"Do you have any self preservation instincts at all?" He asks, perfectly mild, and there's a thread of humour just winding its way through the words that makes Obi-wan work hard to suppress a grin. He folds his hands into the sleeves of his dripping robes as primly as he can manage.
"None whatsoever I'm afraid." He agrees cheerfully. "I've reached my current great age purely through the will of the Force."
Cody noses open a door, and tilts his head to gesture Obi-wan inside. It's a bedroom.
"Sonic is through the far door." Cody says from the doorway, not entering the room, which is a respect for Obi-wan's privacy and space, a kindness, that melts something deep inside him. "There should be spare clothes in the dresser, I don't think they'll be too bad a fit." Obi-wan pulls open the drawer indicated and takes out one of the several identical items. It's a black under suit. For a human. Which just raises more questions, in this apparently empty castle inhabited by only a dragon. He puts them out of his mind for now. There'll be time for those later. He turns back to thank Cody, but the dragon is speaking again. "Do you need help with your wounds?" He asks.
Obi-wan blinks in confusion.
"I can smell blood on you." Cody elaborates.
Obi-wan frowns down at himself, and twists, trying to spot the problem.
"I can't tell where, sorry." Cody says from the doorway.
"My dear, if this is an elaborate ploy to get me naked..." Obi-wan mutters absently as he pulls off his sodden outer robes and drops them into the sonic.
Cody is staring at him, extremely unimpressed, both brows raised, but there's amusement glittering in the depths of amber eyes.
"I do hate picking bits of wet cloth out of my teeth." He deadpans, and Obi-wan isn't quick enough to muffle an inelegant snort. The Corner of Cody's mouth just twitches the tiniest amount at the sound.
Obi-wan eventually finds the smallest little scratch just under the edge of his collarbone. He doesn't even know which of today's minor mishaps it came from.
"My dear, honestly-" he starts, but tails off in the face of Cody watching him with unnecessary patience, head tilted in a mockery of attention.
"There's bacta in the fresher." He says, utterly mild.
There's apparently going to be only one outcome to this standoff and it's Obi-wan treating the scratch. It's quite apparent that arguing is going to be a pointless waste of everyone's time. Obi-wan could definitely attempt to argue for forms sake, and the thought is tempting, but he's aware that it'll probably lose him what little dignity he has left. He narrows his eyes though, to mark his displeasure, and the patient, waiting, look on Cody's face doesn't change in the slightest. The bastard.
"Sleep well, Obi-wan." He says, clearly satisfied his point has been made, and uses his tail to pull the door shut as he leaves.
Well then.
Obi-wan is heading downstairs the next morning, when he hears noises that he really can't place. He follows his ears, ducks through a door, and can sense a cluster of those half-there force presences in the room below him. He peeks over the balcony. Below him is a vast ballroom. The floor of which is covered in furniture. Furniture which is moving by itself. And which seems to be doing ... combat drills?
There's a candelabra doing target practice using its candles as flamethrowers.
Two tiny teacups are sparring.
A chest of draws seems to be practicing combinations of moves involving modified spin kicks and draws sliding out in a punch.
The entire exercise looks like it's being overseen by a floral china teapot which is prowling through the other items in a decidedly predatory manner.
"It's best to avoid the ballroom before lunch," Cody comments from beside him, "if you don't want to get drawn into a spar." As if this is a completely normal thing to happen. But Obi-wan has seen a lot of strange things in the galaxy, and this is just another of them.
"Would they mind company?" He asks, "I should really be practicing my katas."
"Is that Cody's pretty Jedi?" A dinner plate asks in a whisper as Obi-wan walks into the room. So apparently the furniture can talk, and is sentient. Cody, walking beside Obi-wan, makes no indication that he's heard. But the pattern on the dinner plate fades slightly, and they snap to attention. Obi-wan has never seen a dinner plate at attention before. It looks like it's going to be a good day for new experiences.
"Cody's gonna eat you, vod." Another voice murmurs once they're past.
"Only if I don't find you first." Another voice growls. A quick peek over his shoulder shows it to be the aggressive floral teapot. "Laps" The teapot demands. "Until I tell you to stop."
"Alpha," the first voice whines, "I don't have any legs."
There's an incredibly unimpressed silence.
"You know how to roll." Is a vicious hiss of sound.
"You know that makes me sick."
"Does that look like my problem, vod? Laps. Now."
There's an annoyed groan, and then the familiar sound of spinning crockery. Obi-wan glances at Cody whose mouth has turned up just the slightest bit into what looks really quite like a smug little smirk.
Cody leads him to a clear space where Obi-wan shucks off his cloak and works his way through his saber forms. First open handed, and then with his blade lit.
"Want to put some of my boys through their paces?" Alpha the teapot asks, once he's finished.
Obi-wan eyes the assembled furniture and grins.
"I have to say, I'm always up for new experiences."
"Boil!" Alpha snaps, "You're up."
An entire wardrobe lumbers forwards.
Obi-wan is about to get his arse kicked by a wardrobe.
"I'm really not at all sure my dignity can handle getting my shebs handed to me by a sentient wardrobe." He comments, even as he steps forwards.
"You speak mando'a?" A clock chimes in.
"You think we're sentient?" The wardrobe - Boil asks.
"I spent some time in Mandalore in my youth, and of course you're sentient, my dears. Why in the galaxy wouldn't you be?"
Boil looks him dead in the eye. Or at least, that's the impression Obi-wan gets. Boil doesn't exactly have eyes. "Sir," he says calmly, "I'm a wardrobe."
Which... is a fair point.
The trouble with sparring with a wardrobe, Obi-wan finds, is that it's not entirely clear how to disable one without damaging them. He ends up toppling Boil, sitting on his back, and pinning his doors shut, trapped between them and the ground.
"Waxer!" Alpha calls.
Waxer turns out to be a hatstand. With a knack for back flips. And a spinning umbrella ring. He catches the back of Obi-wan's robes with a hook and sends him flying into the air. Obi-wan laughs in delight as he tucks and spins. As he comes down, he bounces off the ground, tucks into a roll, and grabs Waxer by the middle. When he lands again he's lifting Waxer above his head horizontally, so that no part of him can touch the ground.
Alpha hums. "Cody!" He calls, and the dragon in question stands up from where he'd been curled up on the floor, watching with an intent gaze. Several of the smaller pieces of furniture seem to have been using him... as furniture, and they all scatter and slide off him, in streams of muffled cursing, as he moves. Cody ignores them completely.
This match is long, and interesting, and ends with Obi-wan pinned, Cody's forepaw pressing into his chest. He taps out, out of breath, and pleasantly exhausted. It's the best fight he's had in years.
As much as he loves it here, he can't stay forever.
"You're going?" Wooley, an adorable little teacup, asks, and there's a tremble to his voice. He seems more upset than the occasion perhaps warrants. Obi-wan pauses, and studies the rest of the furniture, and Cody, who had all gathered to see him off. The rest of them seem... stoic. Almost grieving? He knew they were fond of him, but to this extent? He meets Cody's eyes, always surprisingly expressive. And he recognises the look in them. He saw it enough on Melida/Daan. Every time a child picked up a blaster and headed up out of the safety of the sewers. Knowing you're going to die, but doing it anyway because there's something worth more.
He immediately discards all his plans for leaving. He needs to know what has happened here. Why the force feels so odd, why their force presences are so strange, why the kriffing furniture is sentient.
"Well," he says, stroking his beard, "I suppose I don't really have anywhere all that urgent to be."
"Yes!" Wooley says, leaping upwards, and the sheer relief from everyone else is palpable.
They're all sprawled on the ballroom floor after sparing.
"Are you sure you're a Jedi?" Boil asks.
"We didn't think Jedi were allowed to flirt." Waxer adds.
Oh, this is a golden opportunity.
"How ever are we supposed to get laid if we can't flirt?" Obi-wan asks, lacing his voice with confusion.
There's a beat of silence, then a beautiful array of spluttering. Obi-wan is slightly worried that Fives is going to choke, and he didn't know clocks could choke.
"What." Alpha asks, completely flat.
Obi-wan chuckles, and he can feel a few of them glaring at him. Cody has settled himself down with his head on his front legs and looks like he's waiting for story time.
"It's a common misconception." Obi-wan explains. "The Jedi code forbids attachment rather than love. And nowhere does it mention, ah, physical relations."
"Attachment?" Waxer asks.
"A Jedi must always put their duty to the Order, the Force, the Galaxy, above that to any person. We're quite capable of love. Rather prone to it in fact."
"Do you think you could love us?" Wooley asks, and the longing and hope in his voice cracks Obi-wan's heart right open.
"Of course I love you all,-" Obi-wan starts, but has to stop at the sudden intense wash of the Force. When he's finished blinking the aftershocks out of his eyes, he's no longer surrounded by sentient furniture, but by a group of identical humans, all wearing the same black under suits that he'd found in his room. They look like the same man repeated over and over again, but they all shine brightly and differently in the force.
"We love you too!" A familiar voice calls.
"Wooley?" Obi-wan asks.
"I'm afraid we got on the wrong side of a Sith." Someone who can only be Cody says, the others automatically making way for him as he steps forwards. He's just as identical as the rest of them, other than a scar, curling around his eye. His force presence is the gentle roll of soft sunrise. Strong and inevitable. Unbelievably beautiful. "We could only be freed from the curse by the true love of a Jedi."
"Oh." Is all Obi-wan can say to that. It explains... about half of what is going on, by his estimation.
Cody chuckles.
"The Sith decided he needed a clone army. We decided he didn't."
"And the Sith?" Obi-wan asks.
Cody's innocent blink is utterly ruined by the smirk that crosses his lips.
"Oh," he says, casually careless, and the sound, paired with the mix of smug confidence and mischief on Cody's face, causes Obi-wan's breath to catch. "It's not a particularly tactically sound decision to curse someone into a dragon whilst you're still in range of the flames."
"I would imagine not." Obi-wan agrees.
He guesses that makes two of them that can be called Sithslayer now.