i hate the rule against dangling prepositions omg.

[quigonejinn]

Obi-Wan did not associate any particular smell with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon did not have a particular type of soap or shampoo that he favored; he was a Jedi, after all, one that spent almost all of his time on foreign planets and strange climates. He washed with whatever was on hand and would get him reasonably clean. In fact, the Temple laundered Jedi robes in a soap that was deliberately formulated to be scentless to 473 of the 476 species represented in the Jedi -- what was pleasant to one species might be deathly revolting to another, after all.

Qui-Gon had also told Obi-Wan that his old master had taken it one step further: he had a habit of treating the robes that he and Qui-Gon used with a compound that masked their scents. After all, a Jedi could control his metabolic processes so that he did emit pheremones, but it took attention, practice. A divided attention could be dangerous; it was not always possible to achieve it even with practice. Scent was so deeply ingrained onto near-humanoid bodies that it was almost impossible to eliminate.

"And my master is even taller than I am," Qui-Gon had said. "It is not easy for men our size to find places to hide."

Qui-Gon had been smiling with both his eyes and his mouth, and the surrounding conversation hadn't been particularly humorous, so Obi-Wan knew, just knew, that there was a funny story behind all this.

Qui-Gon chose not to share it, though, and after a while, Obi-Wan got over his urge to know. It was a remarkably beautiful night on Kittra. They could hear the night insects through the building walls, and after another half hour or so, Qui-Gon unfolded himself from the low table where they had been drinking tea and studying. He opened up the windows that ran along the side of the room so that the smell of the garden outside came pouring through, and he stood by the windows with his hands clasped behind his back.

In a way, it was an odd position for Qui-Gon to use. Obi-Wan supposed that it came from thinking of old times and other planets; he supposed, too, that it was a little odd for Qui-Gon to speak of his master so familiarly and affectionately, yet never go to visit him or search for him while they were laying over at the Temple in between missions.

It was all right, though. Obi-Wan had another sip of his tea, which had gone almost completely cool, and turned back to his studying. Qui-Gon had his past, his Master, his own memories of smell, but he was Obi-Wan's master now. Obi-Wan had the tea, the table, exercises to go through. The smell of jacinth flower and catchone vine coming through the windows.

After this, they would go to bed, and if Obi-Wan woke in the night, he would hear his master's breathing across the room. He would smell the garden outside, remember that they had negotiations tomorrow together, and it had taken him years for him to become sure in this realization since Qui-Gon never seemed to want to share his past, but Obi-Wan now knew that he had the present with Qui-Gon. He was sure, too, that he would have the future.

Comments

longest comment ever. take 2 for typos!

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

*dies* If he WERE, maybe his hair wouldn't look like such complete shit. I know it says a lot about me, but on my most recent watch-through of TPM, each time I saw Qui-Gon onscreen for a scene, I'd mentally go WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUR HAIR PUT SOME CONDITIONER IN IT JESUS >:/ (fic idea, though, for exploring exactly in what ways Qui-Gon ISN'T just like a human since he's not actually from Earth.)

I agree, though, that scent is a really powerful reminder of the past. It tied some of the elements of Keelywolfe's fic together really, really nicely, and I wish that it'd played more of a role, in fact -- maybe some of it rubbing off on Xanatos or something? And you know, if Qui-Gon were to smell like something, it makes sense that he'd smell like herbs. Not, like, the sweet ones or whatever, but something a little bitter, a little smoky, and something utterly unique to him.

In fact, at the beginning of the little fic up above, I was thinking about maybe it into another direction -- something along the lines of Obi-Wan doesn't have a particular scent that he associates with Qui-Gon because Qui-Gon smelled like that a lot. Instead, he has a whole spectrum of scents that remind him of Qui-Gon, and it's incredibly painful to him because those scents that he runs into remind him of Qui-Gon well, um, remind him of Qui-Gon and how much he misses him.

When he doesn't run into them, though, while he's in exile on Tatooine, they're painful in another way. They're from the hundreds of planets that he and Qui-Gon visited and did work on, after all, and now, Obi-Wan is afraid in some corner of his soul that he'll never leave this damn planet. He's gone emotionally dead inside from being on Tatooine for so long; he'll never smell these things that evoked intense emotion for him in the past, and he'll never come alive again. Scent = emotion = past and all that.

. . . and then I came up with the idea of Dooku blanking out scents and stuff, and the fic just SWERVED into a whole new direction.