Opinions please.
Posted: 2005-05-22 04:37pm
Not a fic, just something I wrote which I would like some opinions on. It's my literal rendition of the lava scene in ROTS.
'The ‘fallen from grace’ Jedi. Anakins form, torn-asunder, attempting to claw his way to Obi Wan from the shoreline of the lava, where his impending fate lay. As the molten hot flame engulfs his remains, the only words that the now indistinguishable apprentice of his former master, mentor and friend can splutter forth are the cold; reverberating screams of ‘I hate you!’ As the intense heat, molten rock and torturous burning liquid pass over him, Anakin fades away. Now nothing. Not a Jedi. Neither an apprentice. Not even a man, he now rests in the balance of whether his Master can salvage his soul, whether the Dark Lord will deem fit to resurrect Anakin from his charred and near lifeless state, or perhaps search in new light for another apprentice. Anakin searched within him, reaching, clutching, trying to gain hold of the ally he once called the force, now a twisted rendition of its former self, he relied on the dark energies which had been imbued within him to wash over him, to take control of him. As they did he felt himself rage within with a new found fury misbegotten in the recent aftermath of he’s defeat. He could hold on. He would live. He would avenge upon himself anything and everything he could, for now there was only the rage, the hate, the evil, which would guide to new heights of power. There were no consequences, no rules, and no codes to force him to abide by, to restrict his almighty power. There was only the moment now. Only the will to cause pain, suffering and carnage, He was Vader, the product of a lie, a deceit, a hate so deep hell would not have it. It was destiny, and destiny was to be feared in this moment.'
'The ‘fallen from grace’ Jedi. Anakins form, torn-asunder, attempting to claw his way to Obi Wan from the shoreline of the lava, where his impending fate lay. As the molten hot flame engulfs his remains, the only words that the now indistinguishable apprentice of his former master, mentor and friend can splutter forth are the cold; reverberating screams of ‘I hate you!’ As the intense heat, molten rock and torturous burning liquid pass over him, Anakin fades away. Now nothing. Not a Jedi. Neither an apprentice. Not even a man, he now rests in the balance of whether his Master can salvage his soul, whether the Dark Lord will deem fit to resurrect Anakin from his charred and near lifeless state, or perhaps search in new light for another apprentice. Anakin searched within him, reaching, clutching, trying to gain hold of the ally he once called the force, now a twisted rendition of its former self, he relied on the dark energies which had been imbued within him to wash over him, to take control of him. As they did he felt himself rage within with a new found fury misbegotten in the recent aftermath of he’s defeat. He could hold on. He would live. He would avenge upon himself anything and everything he could, for now there was only the rage, the hate, the evil, which would guide to new heights of power. There were no consequences, no rules, and no codes to force him to abide by, to restrict his almighty power. There was only the moment now. Only the will to cause pain, suffering and carnage, He was Vader, the product of a lie, a deceit, a hate so deep hell would not have it. It was destiny, and destiny was to be feared in this moment.'