So, what does one do when she has posted three stories on a friend's account and now is bored?

Why, she starts a drabble series, of course. :-P

I'd like to thank Katierosefun for her encouragement, and I may or may not be taking requests for this series. If you come out with some really good prompts, I may try.

So, basically, this is just a series of short drabbles about the life of the Jedi, citizens of the Republic and Confederacy, and possibly the Sith, in wartime. Some of these may get quite dark, I fear, but hopefully it won't be too bad. They may not even have much of a point. Still, I wrote them, and I think they might offer some insight, so enjoy! :-)

This drabble features Iris's OC Ben Kenobi and Coruscantbookshelf's Nasriel Threeb. I am only borrowing them. ;-) I promise to put them back when I am done and not keep them out past their bedtimes.

Orange

Nasriel's eyes remained fixed on the orange as the keen paring knife sliced cautiously through it. Her mentor's long, dexterous fingers curled around the fruit itself and the knife as well, controlling the blade as he cut it into careful, even slices. The last of the segments fell away, and, laying the knife aside, Obi-Wan offered half to her and half to Ben. Nasriel received her orange, licking eagerly at the juice that ran down her fingers, careful not to bite her tongue. Ben took the other piece, then looked up at Obi-Wan. "Where's your slice, Master?" Obi-Wan shrugged.

"The two of you deserve your treat," he said. Nasriel closed her mouth guiltily. As always, it was Ben who caught on first whenever Obi-Wan denied himself so that his two apprentices could have their little joys.

"Master, you can't," she interjected, feeling ashamed. Obi-Wan pressed her hand back as she offered her half of the orange, sealing his lips.

"No. You two likely haven't seen an orange since the beginning of the year," Obi-Wan said firmly. "And I'm not feeling well, so…" Nasriel frowned. Her master had just admitted to not feeling well? She exchanged worried glances with Ben. "I'm not likely to even taste it, at this point," Obi-Wan finished.

"You're sick, Master?" Ben asked. Obi-Wan waved the concern away, the same way he would in a meeting with the Council.

"I'll manage, anyway," he said. "Now is not the time to indulge ourselves over our own petty problems." He sighed. "As Padmé Amidala would say, Duty comes first, especially in wartime."