Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 13, 2013 0:34:10 GMT -8
She'd turned again, exploding in a rage primal and barely controlled, and hardly heard a word he'd said.
Talk about proving my point. Riling her into anger, escalating this to virtually a combat footing, entirely too easy. If I had meant it, if I had wanted it, it would have been a matter of nothing whatsoever, and she really never would have seen it coming. And she doesn't even realise that reacting like this is exactly what I'm talking about.
He did find himself cursing his choice of words, just slightly. Though she wouldn't want to hear it, it was true, what he had said - she was, he could believe, a great and capable warrior, but this was his domain, both the Praxeum itself and the art of precisely that kind of combat, and she couldn't have seen him coming if he had meant her harm. He could have set her up for the fall in moments, executed it so that she never saw it coming. It was a theory tested ten years earlier, when he first arrived here. When, under darker influences, the greatest of the Praxeum's Jedi had been all but struck down at his hand. He had no desire to do so, none whatsoever, but the part of him that had once been an Emperor's Hand, that had once reveled in the cunning killing of dangerous and capable opponents, could still see a dozen ways he could have done it.
The worst thing about my time as the Hand was that I got so clever. Manipulated people into taking their own lives.
He stopped his pursuit of her in the doorway to the observation room, and called after her clearly and crisply.
"And this is why, Lita!"
Dav stared after her now. She was a lost soul and he wanted to help her, but she had to get out of her own way first. She had to want this more than she was demonstrating so far.
"He believes you can be better, Lita. He believes you can be more than a slave to this rage and fear. Well I dare you to try. I dare you to be better. It'll be the hardest battle of your life, a true test of your warrior spirit."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 18, 2013 9:23:40 GMT -8
~ Darkness. The sweet, somber release of all sensation that accompanied blacking out. No sight, no sound, no pain. Time became relative, thought became lucid, all that had been troubling ceased. To a normal person, that was.
Jedi had no such luck: touched by The Force and its deeper mysteries, the relaxation of the mind only served to pierce the veil of mortal understanding, something Jago was neither familiar or comfortable with. Perception was not his forte: it often caused him deep backlashes, injuries that carved beneath bone and flesh to the very soul itself. While his body was healed under the watchful eye of Tebana Sor, his heart resisted any attempts to stem its laborious worry.
He could feel her. Trapped in a state where he could not move, could not see, could not think, and he could still feel Lita Trykk. Her concern burned into his subconsciousness. Her anger set his compassion ablaze. She became the lightning bolt jolting him to action, to fight, to struggle against un-death. But he did not move.
Helplessness. Weakness.
Jago couldn't fathom the internal, underlying fear of being utterly and entirely useless. It devoured his confidence and pride, tearing bit by bit at his damaged form. The more his faint presence in The Force sensed Lita's distress, the greater his desire to pull himself off of that cold bed became, and the worse his condition deteriorated. The heart fought the mind, the mind fought the body, the body fought the heart. Everything quickly went out of sync, any progress the medics were making becoming void and nil as Jago's pulse began to steadily climb, a rocket threatening to ignite and explode when it finally reached its peak. His limp form began to twitch: fingers curling tightly and unable to be pried open, his brow squeezing down and contorting his features into one of pain and outright fright.
She was ... In trouble? Frightened. No ... Furious? The confusing information was further diluted through his lack of control over The Force, his thoughts overwhelmed with extra-sensory input but unable to process any of it in his unconscious state. His body panicked as a result, trying so hard to force itself awake, to reach her, to try anything to alleviate her emotional stress. He could hear the distant sound of thunder, the cannon in his chest firing over and over, but nothing could wake him from his induced torpor.
Panic became fear. Fear became desperation. His unique signature in The Force began to lash out in rhythm with the palpitations of his overworked heart, calling without words to try and secure help, any help, that could drag him out of his damnable, worthless state. On the verge of death, once again, and still Jago's concern was not for himself. Never for himself.
It was then that his presence found hers: felt the rage and scorn, the fear. His embers, slowly going out before, roared into a fierce fire at discovering Lita and immediately grasped on to her Signature. It was what had comforted him in the first place, what had coaxed his mind into serenity and calm. To feel his focusing point, his rock, become unstable and in danger of toppling over threatened his own security.
Falling. Dying.
His will forced itself to be heard. Jago would not go quietly, not this time. Not like back on the Presage, not when he first walked out on her on Contruum, not this time. His very being amounted the extent of its possible effort to give only the barest touch to her thoughts, to do something he had never before been able to truly accomplish with Lita.
He spoke to her.
<< You would not have let me. I would not have let you. >>
Barely a whisper, barely perceptible in the chaos of the operating room, but heard, nonetheless. The silent message carried strain in its tone, the subdued form of Jago Pulastra being attended to in a frantic blitz as his heart rate failed to go down. Despite every marvel of modern medicine, he could not be entirely subdued: The Force dove inside his mind and he responded as he only knew how: To Fight.~
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 20, 2013 16:57:50 GMT -8
"It'll be the hardest battle of your life, a true test of your warrior spirit."
"Through passion, I gain strength."
*She turned her horned head to look over her shoulder, garnet eyes flashing with a touch of gold before hardening into their ice-cold facets, as unyielding as Iridonia's environment.*
"But I have to control it. It must not control me."
*As she kept her gaze fixated on Dav, focusing on her own state, proving to him that she was no slave, the roar of the blood in her ears began to fade away, replaced by other sounds: The maddening beeps of a heart monitor that was much too fast and erratic; the stern and feminine voice of Tebana as she barked orders; the streaming reports from the droids as one vital organ after another went into failure. All of these sounds came into sharp focus where she had not heard them before. Alarmed, she turned away from the door, her focus now on the medical bed.*
"...Jago.."
*He was dying. How could this be? He was stable moments ago, his vitals strong. The worst had been over, and only electrical burns and the threat of infection remained. But now, he had regressed, as though his heart had never stabilized. Or, as though some outside force were causing it to beat wildly out of control. Understanding did not come to her. Instead, she lunged out of the doorway and back into the operating room. A medical droid ceased what it was doing in order to step in her path, barring her way before she could reach the medical platform. With a vicious growl, Lita struck her forearm against the metallic chest, nearly toppling it as she shoved it aside.
Others moved to restrain her, but then hesitated, their photoreceptors glancing at one another in confusion when the Zabrak was, quite suddenly, frozen in place. Her gaze lost all focus.*<< You would not have let me. I would not have let you. >>
"Kabno shuree, I am the cause of this...we are bonded!"
*She had no idea it was possible when it wasn't a forced thing. The Sith had shown her through unwelcomed violation of her thoughts that a connection could be forged between two force-senstives, but that aggressive intrusion was the only means in which she had ever known such a thing. She had never forced her mind upon Jago's, yet somehow, his whispered thoughts had come through. Which meant in turn, her dark emotions were afflicting him, causing undue stress upon him physically.*
"Tuhash <please> Tebana, let me through."
*She did not wait for permission as she moved with balanced quickness behind the medical bed. She framed his cheeks and the sides of his rebreather mask with her hands, staring down upon his pale, tension-filled features. Through the difficult struggle of control, she forced her breathing and heart rate to slow, soothing her physiological reactions so as to gradually calm the storm of her emotions. Her eyes lifted towards where Dav stood in observation of it all.*
"Master Man'Sell. I will need your help."
*It was clear from the humility in her voice, she was speaking for the long term.* |
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 21, 2013 15:43:43 GMT -8
Help...
Dav Man'Sell may not have always picked the right words. He wasn't always the greatest diplomat, nor the smoothest of smooth-talkers. He was, after all, a Warrior and a man of action first, and the resolution of his mind did not always lend itself to compromise and diplomacy. But that word... that one word above all...
There was only one way he could ever respond to a request for help.
"Of course."
The Jedi Master was beside Lita in moments, and his quiet, unassuming response, and the direct willingness with which he had acted, was as much a commitment to helping her in any way he was capable of, for as long as she needed it, as her request had been a humble and simple gesture of acceptance. For the long term.
He caught a look from Tebana, a complex glance of frustration, displeasure, and worry. In that split second, he saw all the thoughts she had parading through her mind. Jago's loss of control of his biocardio rhythm was obviously worrying her desperately, from a professional standpoint, but Dav knew that some small part of her was remembering another time where they both stood around Jago's bed in a medical bay - when Jago had tried to kill himself. On that day, struggling with the monstrous Corruption coursing through her veins, her sanity and sense of self slipping away a little more each day, she had done something she had never done before - in her desperation, she had called on the Dark Side. The pain, and fear, the sheer shock of that for her had almost destroyed her, and in all her life, one that had seen many hardships and tests of her very self, that was to her possibly her darkest moment. This reminder would not be a comfortable one for her.
There too in that face was frustration at Dav. That whatever had been said between he and Lita had not improved the situation in the slightest; rather it had, apparently, worsened it. Shouting between them in the doorway, when they were busy trying to heal Jago. And worry, so much worry, for the empathic bond between Jago and Lita, one that Tebana hadn't even known existed, was a powerful and almost unpredictable factor. He, with a selfless heart so willing and open, Lita with deep conflict and apparent inner turmoil, between two such as them, in a moment of weakness like this, such a bond was dangerous; as proven, by Jago's plummeting vitals.
Dav's return glance to Tebana was apologetic, and brief, a flash of an emotion over half-a-second, before all his focus was on Lita and Jago.
"Tell me what you need."
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 22, 2013 17:05:13 GMT -8
*The Yavin Master did not hesitate to move forward. He might have, if he had known what she intended, but Lita remained still until after he was near, exchanging wordless communicating looks with Tebana.
In any other time, any other place, Lita would have recoiled from what she was now inviting in to herself. The judgment of light; the mind of a Jedi. Her gaze lowered to Jago, her thumb brushing almost imperceptibly against the line of his jaw. Her very existence caused him pain and conflict. She had, directly and indirectly, become a disruption for him, one of the dark spots that blemished his brilliance, only her spot continued to grow like a cancerous cell. As medical technology struggled to stabilize his vitals, he could not afford to wait for her to find her own internal balance. She growled low in her throat.*
"It has been too many years."
*Suddenly, and quite sharply, she reached out to grip Dav by the wrist with the inhuman strength of her kind.*
"I need you to remind me of what I have forgotten."
*There was no gentleness in her, because she had never been taught what gentleness was. She plunged against Dav's mind the only way she had ever been shown, with force and the expectation of violent resistance. Except that in this case, she was not seeking knowledge of secrets, or control of thought or action, but rather total and utter empathic immersion of herself within him. In order to calm the discord of her thoughts, she needed to remember what peace was. To find that tranquility, she needed a Jedi's discipline. She needed to become severed from the dark side that had been her companion and the core of her being for so long.
But she just didn't know how. And so she made her mind vulnerable to Dav Man'Sell.*
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 23, 2013 14:29:06 GMT -8
Her fingers started to close around his wrist, and all his reflexive responses jumped to him again - it was a choice, a conscious effort of will, not to let his martial training and combat instincts take over. The Iridonian's hand clamped down, trapping him physically in her grasp.
Could he have broken her grip on her? With physical strength like hers, it would have required a lot of effort, and, as she had his right arm in her grip, he could well have ended up with a broken wrist for his troubles. Ultimately, though, whether he could or could not, he didn't, making the choice to trust her, to see where this was going.
The whole physical aspect became immaterial, anyway, as she drove at him mentally, seeking a telepathic connection the only way she knew how. His eyes flew open, mouth parting widely in a rasping inward gasp of air. His eyes closed, his head dipped, his mind turning inwards; she thrust forth into him, and a different set of strengths came to play.
~Her mind crashed against his, her awareness falling on his like a legion upon a fort, with power and all her colossal strength of mind behind it. The reaction in him was instinctive, and the barriers of his mind flew up against her advance, taking her initial contact with him unerringly and preventing, for a moment at least, her passage into his mind.
The moment was enough for his conscious mind to catch up with his instinctive one, as he allowed himself to fall into the semi-conscious state of telepathic melding. Again, she pressed forth with violent might, and again, she met those instinctive barriers in him, which seemed to shake violently from the force of her contact - impressions of their forging echoed from them with her impacts, impressions she might have sensed. His barriers were those that had once been shattered and later rebuilt again, stronger than before. Where once they had been the tidy, ordered psychic defences of a Jedi Knight, trained and moulded according to the Jedi way, now they were thick, layered, unpatterned and unpredictable defences that came from being broken entirely and finding a way to remake oneself.
She had entered his mind, and in his mind, his defences were powerful, powerful because he knew it well; he had to. Too much resided there. Too many secrets, too much danger, the powerful passions and dark impulses of his past, the fierce and ruthless intellect of him. He would show her exactly what she needed, whatever she felt that was, but he had to be in control of that inward journey into his mind.
So he willed his defences to take a different form. Where once they had been a wall, they now became a cushion, yielding, catching and softening her impact. And as those softer barriers wrapped around her mind, he became aware of just how vulnerable she was choosing to make herself to him. Another impact crashed into his cushioning defences, and this time, he used the momentum of her impact to draw her, in a controlled and gradually decelerating manner, in through those defences, guiding her to a softer telepathic link, to where his conscious mind lay fully.
They resided, now, in an open space. Open, but not empty, for all around could be felt, sensed, heard, the stream of information that his mind processed constantly. The space was open, but it felt full.
He appeared to her in there as a visual projection of himself, his hair swept back, dressed in the Greatcoat that was his trademark, a simple white shirt and grey trousers underneath, somehow incorporeal and incandescent with the energy of the Light Side. All around them could be heard echoes of him - his mind, his spirit, his emotions, his past and the potential in his future, vague and shapeless, passing through the mindscape all around her. It all flowed with a rhythm and a harmony, all interwoven, a complex lattice of his thoughts and emotions and experiences, to form the entirety of his being in simple balance with itself.
He looked at her for a moment, his astral self, in that studying way he was known to adopt, before his head suddenly turned up and to the right -- ~
Barely two seconds had passed in the conscious world, and Tebana, recognising and sensing instantly what Lita was doing, snapped her head around, and stepped toward them to intervene. Her hands came up, ready to direct her phenomenal talent in the Force towards shielding Dav, towards preventing Lita's incursion into his mind, towards going on the offensive if need be. But in that instant, Dav's hand came up, a staying gesture. Thoughts passed between them, through their long standing empathic bond.
It's fine. It's ok. Let her.
His hand sank again, and a frown of worry, of disbelief, settled on Tebana's brow. She wanted to argue with him, but when Dav Man'Sell was in action, such arguments were futile and often just a hinderance. She turned the urge aside, and focused back again on Jago. She needed to focus on one foolishly brave Jedi with a self-destructive disregard for his own safety at a time.
~He settled his focus on Lita once again. After what seemed an age - or was, in real terms, no time at all, hard to follow was the flow of time in as subjective a place as the mind - he seemed to move closer to her; or perhaps, she was drawn closer to him.
This is who I am, in here. I will show you what you seek as best I can, the only way I know how, but whilst we are bonded, you may see other things as well, things you perhaps are not expecting. We are in the depths of my mind, the recesses of my subconscious, and certain things, fundamental parts of me, cannot be denied here. I just want to warn you, so you can prepare yourself for anything that might surprise you...
He gave her a soft smile. She had taken a risk in trusting herself in so vulnerable a way to him, it was only fair, in a bond like this, that he offer her that same trust. He would hide nothing from her, and anything she saw would be the truth of him - no colouring, no manipulation, no deflection. His honesty echoed from him and around the space they occupied...~
...Do you follow my meaning? And are you ready?...
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 23, 2013 15:58:15 GMT -8
*Tendons flexed beneath her tightening grip as his body and mind reflexively responded as though the Jedi Master was under attack. Which, from Lita's perspective, a collision of two minds was exactly that. She felt more than could see Tebana rushing to Dav's defense, her body language showing a forward aggressive stance as her hands raised towards them. If she had chosen in that moment to take action against Lita, there was very little she could have, or would have done to protect herself. Her focus was entirely on establishing this emotional link and mental pathway, and she could not afford to break it now without causing her own mind serious harm. For whatever reason, however, a look passed between the two Jedi, Dav's hand lifting to cease her actions, and Tebana's attack never came.
The pull of her lips in a vicious scowl that Lita had not even realized had settled on her mouth began to ease, the glint of her teeth disappearing once more behind the somber expression that more commonly defined her. She could now detect the gentle catch and pull of her thoughts. It was not what she had expected. Indeed, it was not even what she had intended, but it was his help and his knowledge she was seeking. If this was the way the Jedi wanted to take her, then so be it. She gradually relaxed the tight grip of control she had on her own mind, allowing it to be guided beyond a chaos of shifting barriers.
Chaos. Her eyes flashed as they shifted almost imperceptibly in an outward reaction of startlement. At some point in his life, Dav Man'Sell had walked his path in darkness. It was the only way she could infer to explain his understanding and knowledge of a patternless shield of force. What else did she misinterpret of him? But she was not here to dive into his secrets and drain him of what he knew. She had never been tempted to perform such violations of the mind, and she was not tempted now, when he was bringing her past his defenses.
His mind opened up to hers, like the weight of a heavy mist clearing, until their minds were one. The projection of her thoughts settled to meet the manifestation of his. She appeared as little more than a shadow, the dark silhouette shifting continuously in the way of a mirage that is incessantly changing or becoming more distant as one tries to reach the illusion. But her presence remained focused and unwavering, directly contrasting to her image.
As the distance between them became less, tension and forced relaxation pulsed within her mind and physical body in a molasses-like state of migrating confliction.*
<< There is no need to be concerned for what expectations I might hold, Master Man'Sell. I would have to have known you in order to maintain any. As it stands, I do not know you at all. >>
*Her hands unfolded from the dark recesses of what might have been robes, but there was not enough definition in the silhouette to be certain, and she gestured for Dav Man'Sell's mind to lead her where he wished for her to go.*
<< I'm not certain that I am ready, but I am willing. Please help me to prevent doing further harm to him. >>
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 23, 2013 16:07:50 GMT -8
There was something of a faint smile to his face...
... I think you may be about to get to know me fairly well...
He was far away - or, perhaps, whispering into her ear - suddenly.
... I'm going to show you how I attain the peace you seek... I only hope it'll help you to follow my lead... come...
He moved with her, before her, all around her, taking her with him through his mind. Many of the moving, sweeping energies, the myriad thoughts and memories around them, begun to slow, twirling delicately around each other as lovers in a dancer's embrace would. The sound of his breathing, steady and controlled, seemed to be everywhere. The gradually slowing, calming heartbeat seemed almost to reverberate off of the very air itself. Gradually, and one by one, the thoughts that whirled around them seemed to fade away - not going completely, just becoming still and blending with the background.
... The opening stages of meditation... quieting my thoughts, willing them away... they are not forgotten, not lost, just preserved until later...
The noises around them had quietened, the sensations had become less energised. There was something soft, comfortable, supporting beginning to dominate the feeling of his mindscape - like one could cease to carry themselves and just float, unfalling and in perfect rest, in the very air itself.
An odd sensation overcame her, like she could feel arms attached to her body that were not hers, legs that carried her too far from the ground, a single heart. The strong fingers of a hand wrapped tightly around her right wrist; she was aware, in a passing moment, of his body, as he himself sought total awareness of his physical self.
The shapes around them begun to form images now. Some were obscure places, worlds not visited since long ago, or non-descript that could potentially have been anywhere. Others were recognisable - the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, but not as it stood now, beneath a pyramid of crystal, but as it had been in the days before the Clone Wars. The Great Temple they now stood in, its Grand Audience Chamber, lain out before then. The cockpit of an X-Wing. A small, simple hut, sunlight pouring through a window. Each of these places seemed to be around them for a moment, and within each place, there was another Dav besides the one that guided her - on Coruscant, he was young, enthusiastic, hair shortly cropped, body slender and sinewy beneath the very traditional robes he wore. On Yavin, much as he appeared now to her, younger by a few years though, with the Greatcoat wrapped around him. In the cockpit he wore a flightsuit in dark grey, again much as he appeared now, looking exactly as he did to her. The hut, he was bearded, with longer hair. He wore the simple clothes of a civilian, a short jacket, trousers, sturdy boots.
... Next, acknowledgement of self, of all I know myself to be, all I have known myself to have been. The successes, and the failures, and the potential...
A darker place surrounded them. The shadows were richer, deeper, harsher. They were in a tower overlooking Coruscant, the tallest in all the great city - the sky was thick with overcast, and practically black, the lights of the city muted and dimmed. The room they witnessed was vast, as vast as the Audience Chamber had been, and a hooded figure sat in a vast throne, the skin of his hands shrivelled and white with extreme age, yellow eyes blazing from beneath a vast hood that shielded the face in unrelenting darkness, save a shrivelled white nose and the tip of the chin which just protruded into the cold, blue-white spotlight that fell from directly above.
Beside this shadowy figure, a towering figure in black armour, the face like a skull, his breathing heavy and loud - the infamous, terrifying form that no-one could fail to recognise, the form of Darth Vader. And before them both, another stood. Slender, but undoubtedly strong, this man's face was obscured in shadows darker than black. A sharply trimmed goatee could just be made out where the light caught the side of his face furthest from her. The man sported a closely cropped haircut, and stood, head bowed, arms extended out from his side, in a tight fitting combat suit of dark-grey and black. As he lifted his head, face still obscured in deep shadow, his eyes opened, blazing yellow just as those beneath the hood of the seated figure did. This man's eyes, however, were of a different rage, one of immense pain.
Suddenly, those eyes looked at Lita. In the shadows, the jaw moved, the mouth opened to speak, to say --
The dark room was gone, the shadowy man with it. Now, things became vague, uncertain, everything flitting by in a blink of an eye would flit past again only slightly different in the next blink, and a vague, almost shapeless Humanoid form constructed of pure light stood arms outstretched, at a great journey's distance from her, before vanishing in the ether.
All the forms and shapes, all the other rooms, disassembled into clouds, which reconstituted as the Dav who was her guide, moving ever forward.
... feelings... I think I understand your torment, Lita Trykk. I think I can understand the powerful impulses of your soul, the strength of your emotions...
In the recesses around her, the infinite place they inhabited, other whispers echoed, all building up as one, the cacophony of his soul - some were soft, soothing, caring, others jovial, others full of rage and fire, and others still full of fear and pain. The words were lost to the ether, but the emotion in them, observed by her from a safe distance, was none-the-less very real.
Then, clearer than the others, his voice came in as a whisper on the wind suddenly, from the other side of her. The other voices all echoed this main one, each keeping the emotion it had within it before.
... in some, even if they are Jedi, passions and feelings run deep, an undeniable part of the whole that will not be ignored. I acknowledge them, too...
The emotions around them each moved, bubbling up, gaining momentum. The feeling reached her of him allowing each one, one at a time, to wash over him, but they did not take hold - he sensed them, he was aware of them, their causes, their nuances, their truth, and then they passed him by, as a wave might wash over a rock and carry on its way. And there were so many in him, so many feelings, so much fire and passion, each one that folded on him out of the ether seemed more intense than the one before. Yet each emotion was met by the same unfaltering counteraction - a simple choice. A choice not to let them dictate his response, his state of mind. A choice to be something other than instinct and reflex and emotion. He chose to have a choice.
The emotions seemed to expend themselves against him, and with no response, no acceptance of them, they lost momentum, and gradually one by one they settled into a swirling mix beneath and around his feet, turning over, a thousand shades of a thousand colours of a thousand impulses.
... Not to dwell on, not even always to try and understand, just to know, to be aware of them and the effect they could have, so that I can choose a different way and that they are already accounted for... so that it is with my all that I find...
All movement, all the swirling, each sensation they felt... each heard whisper... each and every part of the world that surrounded them became still all at once, and they both hung in absolute weightlessness.
... Peace.
Everything seemed to exist now within the same slow, relaxing pulse. It could have been the beating of his heart, the gentle in – and out – of his breath. It was hard to say, but it encompassed everything around them, and it was there, mutable, for her to touch, to enfold around herself if she wanted. It was a soothing sensation, like a calming motion, the gentle rocking of a baby's crib that lulled it slowly to sleep, a faint lullaby carrying gently with each motion.
After a moment in total tranquillity, in which the spiritual representation of himself held there, eyes closed, perfectly still as he floated in the silence of his own mind, he opened his eyes to her again, and a few faint whisperings beginning to take shape on the edge of their perceptions. His attention now was on her meditations, her peace, and he existed, ready to help where he could.
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 24, 2013 15:53:15 GMT -8
*As it always was with any mind she entered, the strongest and most lingering of impressions were emotions. Details and images of past events were quick to fade from a healthy mind, but how those events made someone feel leaves deep and lasting scars. Her own mind and thoughts were quieted, forced to retreat in order to make room for the vast quantities of experiences of someone else's lifetime of near a century. It was more than just a suppression of her self-awareness. It was a suppression of who she was, her personality, her very presence. The sensation of this loss of self was disconcerting, but not alarming to her, because this was her goal from the beginning. To understand this Jedi, she had to know what it was to be him, to feel through his flesh, perceive through his eyes and think with his thoughts.
And he accommodated her wishes.
In taking this journey with him towards finding his inner peace, she found many different versions of Dav, each of his stages in his life that had molded him, each role playing a part in influencing the Jedi he was today. Some of the images were, for reasons she did not yet know but would reflect on far later, upsetting and disturbing. Some were exactly as she might have seen from any Jedi, and others still were as shocking as he had promised they would be. Figures in his past that even she herself had heard of were his mentors. The darkness in him felt familiar and comforting to her, whilst his light burned her, stinging her awareness of the Force in a way that was not afflicting her body, but rather painful to her hearts. Several times throughout, she wanted to detach from his thoughts, repelled by how this Jedi made her feel about herself. But each time she felt herself withdrawing, she quelled the temptation to retreat and forged ahead.
He moved easily, fluidly, as though he were drifting along a current. Lita knew that, within her own mind, it was far different. It was strife, an unending war of emotions pitted against one another, bleeding into the churning sea of chaos that was their battlefield. She stared, fixated, upon the bubbling pool of emotions around the avatar of Dav Man'Sell's feet, before they were, suddenly and remarkably, soothed into an utter silence.
Her mind resembled nothing of this peace. But it could. Perhaps it could. It would take a long, arduous amount of time to chase out all of the pieces of herself within the darkest recesses of her mind that she had been hiding from for so long. To look into that festering ocean and even be able to recognize what she was seeing would require an understanding of self and identity that she had lacked her entire life, having never even known the source of her own accursed bloodline. It seemed an endless road of struggle awaited her, but as her flickering image knelt before that stillness of Dav Man'Sell's mind, it was clear that this would be the path she would choose to take.*
<< I remember... >>
*The silhouette of Lita's presence melted away, like the slow dissipation of a dark tendril of smoke being chased away by a gust of wind.
The corporeal sounds of Jago's heart monitor and the artificial lights of Yavin IV's facility returned to her awareness. Her fingers uncurled from Dav's wrist as she released him, and she stumbled, gripping the edge of the medical bed as both of her knees struck hard against the sterilized floor simultaneously. Drained by the rush of sensory input from Dav's emotions and memories as well as the immense expenditure of Force energy, Lita's own fury and fear had retreated in the face of the most undeniable condition of the mind: Fatigue. But her calm was more than just the temporary state of exhaustion. Though she was unaware of it, the icy cold touch of darkness had receded significantly from Lita's Force presence, sequestered by Dav's light.*
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 24, 2013 16:24:54 GMT -8
She came to her knees, exhausted by her connection with his mind. But after a beat, she was not alone, as Dav knelt to one knee before her, a hand resting gently on her upper arm, a frown of concern on his face.
"Lita? Are you alright?"
Part of him thought the physical contact might well turn out to be unwelcomed from him, but after the journey they had just undertaken in the telepathic realm, he wagered this would be less disconcerting for her by comparison.
He searched Lita's face, reaching out with the Force to sense her spirit, and what he discovered was far more peaceful than he had seen her before. Her last thought conveyed through their temporary bond reached back to him -- 'I remember...' -- and great relief washed over him. It had worked, or at least, worked enough for now. And though he could sense her tiredness, he could also feel that, fatigue aside, she was unharmed.
His eyes turned to Tebana, who stood over Jago, working intently.
"Is he...?"
The final word went unsaid. It could have been anything. Okay, better, improving, stable. They were all possible endings.
Alive.
Though Dav was sure he'd feel Jago's death, even through the deep meld he and Lita had just shared, part of him wasn't certain. And so that was a possible ending to the sentence, too.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 26, 2013 8:17:14 GMT -8
His heart slowed.
His fingers released themselves, knuckles pale but regaining color bit by bit. Facial features relaxed as the tension simply left Jago's body. Even subdued, he could feel the wave of serenity rolling gently off of Lita Trykk. It eased his burden, soothed his unconscious worry to know she was at a point where she was safe. Calm.
It took a tense minute for Jago's vitals to begin evening out to optimal levels, the bed-ridden Jedi almost playing a small smile across his lips. It danced along his diluted perception, her remembrance: It was to feel the fresh wind upon a cheek, the quenching rain after forty days of searing summer.
The Dark Side was not stronger. Easier, quicker, perhaps. But in no way did it stand against the soothing flame of The Light. Even a single candle was enough to expel the shadows, banishing their oppression with truth, fighting obscurity with passive resistance. That was the way of The Jedi. It was a subtle thing, and in its subtlety was incredible, unyielding power just waiting to be tapped into. The emotions to find inner peace. The knowledge to correct ignorance. The passions to fuel complete serenity. The chaos parted to reside in harmony. Death, only to be reborn into something bigger. Something better.
Jago Pulastra was not dead. Not just yet. Many battles of the body, the mind, and the heart waited for him still, the greatest of which would be coming soon with the Zabrak who burned herself on the Sun of the Force that she might save his life. Now, resting and recovering, finally, he could steel himself for that fight, in which three hearts would beat to one rhythm. But that was for another day, another place.
He slept. The doctors and Tebana worked, assured he would be fine.
And in his head, Jago knew that Lita had just taken her first step into a larger world.
He was ready, willing, prepared to share that step with her when he awoke.~
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 26, 2013 14:59:10 GMT -8
*It hurt. But it was only pain. Her limbs were slow to respond, but it was only weariness. At his touch and his words, she lifted her eyes to the darker ones of the Jedi who watched her so intently, and before her lips even parted to respond, she could read in the subtle shifts of his expression that he already had his answer.*
"It will pass, Master Man'Sell."
*It would pass, and darkness would return to her. But so, too, would the light she had thought was eternally gone. The spark she had thought snuffed out on darkest day of her life glowed anew, having never really been gone at all.
Like Dav, her focus returned to Jago, his unspoken question burning in her mind until, with a gradual seeping awareness, she could sense his release of the internal battle he had been fighting against his own body, his relief flooding her and mingling with her own until one was indefinable from the other. She rose, a bit unsteady on her feet, and brushed her fingertips against the side of his neck to feel the steady pulse there, as though to trust her own touch over that of the steady electronic metronome of the instruments reading his vitals.*
"I think I know my mistake, now."
*The reason why she had lost control. How could she face her actions, the choices that had led her here, whilst remaining in denial of herself? One could not seek the truth while hiding from it. The most difficult challenge, acknowledging all of who she was and what she felt, was not a step that could be skipped. How many times had he tried to find her, to pull her outside of herself so she could look into her own eyes? How many times had she tried to tell him there was nothing to find, that light had forsaken her?*
"...You were right, Jago. You were right, all along."
*She moved back a step, removing her hands from the medical bed, then turned to leave the room, allowing the staff to do their work and for Jago to heal and sleep. She hesitated at the arching doorway leading back out into the corridor and looked over her shoulder at Dav, one brow raised as though to silently ask, 'Are you coming?'*
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 27, 2013 17:28:41 GMT -8
He was curious, very curious, to know what she meant by knowing her mistake. But he wouldn't press the matter - it was something for her to share when she was ready. He might ask her, at some point. It could even be as soon as their very next conversation.
But not now.
As she pushed off from the bed and moved to the door, she turned back, giving him a look that practically said 'are you coming?'. He returned it with a nod to indicate he was, and turned to Tebana.
"Will you be sure to let both of us know if there's any developments?"
The woman directed a small scowl at Dav, but nodded gently. Dav was about to leave when one delicate hand grasped his arm, turning him back to her.
=Tebana Sor=
"I trust you'll explain all this to me at somepoint?"
The tall Jedi Battlemaster glanced in Lita's direction before answering.
"As much as I can. I don't understand it all myself, yet."
He looked back at Tebana. Searched her face for an acceptance, which he found, if only begrudgingly. He knew she'd want more answers than that.
"But Jago maybe able to shed some light on it for you when he wakes up."
Tebana looked down at the supine form of Jago Pulastra. His face now looked peaceful - it could be the calmest and most comfortable of sleeps, if not for the clear burns still marking his body.
=Tebana Sor=
"And you're sure you know what you're doing?"
"Not completely."
The look she shot him now was a combination of appreciation of his honesty, and irritation at his apparent glibness, even though she knew it was simply the veneer he was coating it with, and that inside, he was taking it all very, very seriously. He rested his free hand upon the one she held his arm with, a gentle and affectionate gesture.
"It's a complicated situation. I'm still figuring it out as I go along. But I promise you, I'll give it my best efforts..."
She sighed, shaking her head, but the tight smile that accompanied it softened the expression to one of true understanding.
=Tebana Sor=
"You always do. Go on. I'll be in touch - with both of you - as soon as there is news."
Dav gave her a loving smile, and a gentle nod of thanks, before turning from her again. He stopped just long enough to look down on Jago once more, the tip of the fingers of his right hand resting on the bed beside the white-haired wonder's head.
"Take it easy, mate."
With that, he crossed the room to Lita.
"Where to?"
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on Jun 10, 2013 14:49:38 GMT -8
*Lita observed the quiet exchange between the two Jedi from a distance. Though she did not listen in to the words exchanged, the tension in the air around them, the intimate nuances and facial expressions revealed more than they perhaps were intending, or aware of.
It made her distinctly uncomfortable. Perhaps because the intimacy was becoming so familiar to her, or that these Jedi were becoming more than just some faceless Order with black and white ideals. She had felt struggle, seen conflict, and recognized herself reflected in their eyes. They were becoming complicated, three-dimensional souls with thoughts and emotions of their own. Her lips pulled back a bit. She didn't want to relate to them. She didn't want to know them.
The tension around her mouth eased some as Dav Man'Sell approached, but the expression was still in her gaze even while she was turning to leave the bay and step into the corridor.*
"You are better acquainted with the patterns of this place than I am. Some place quiet, private."
*She visibly flinched as she recalled the surge of dark power that had so dangerously accompanied her rise in fear and anger. She might have been at peace, now, but how long would that last?*
"...Some place out in the open."
*Enclosed spaces might be a thing to avoid for a while.*
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 13, 2013 7:00:22 GMT -8
Dav nodded, glancing back at Tebana as she leant over Jago, working hard.
"Let's go up to the roof... it's just about the most peaceful and meditative place on the planet, at least at this time of the day."
He had recently pondered rooftops, and the proclivity of people of a certain demeanour for spending an inexplicable amount of time on them... he still had no answer as to why, but on Yavin IV, at least, there was more to the roof observation platform than simply a dramatic setting. It was the greatest view on the planet, bar none, especially if they caught it at greater sunrise or sunset, when light from the system's star passed through the upper layers of the gas giant's atmosphere.
Yes, the roof would serve their purposes perfectly.
"Ladies first."
He gestured ahead of him, out into the corridor.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 28, 2013 6:59:25 GMT -8
The minutes turned into hours, the day passing through morning, midday quickly coming and going, sliding through the afternoon, and approached the evening: For much of that time, Tebana stayed in the Medical Centre, working on healing Jago, bit by bit. She kept him sedated through most of the day, only removing the externally induced sleep as nineteen hundred hours struck, allowing a peaceful, natural rest to come over the Jedi Master. She had done all she could for him, his healing was well along it's way, and now, it was simply a case of monitoring him, of ensuring there were no lasting effects from his ordeal.
She sat at a small desk across the main bay from him, ostensibly reading through files and attending to paperwork, but her mind was not on the screen before her as she leant back her chair, chin in her hand, unmoving. Dav had been in two or three times to check on Jago - and he had told her as much as he could. Explained who Lita was, why she was here. What her past held, especially Lita's past relationship to Yavin IV. Another lost soul, looking for answers, for a place in the universe. She couldn't begrudge that - the Praxeum as it stood today had practically been built by those people. Dav, Ronan, Jago, in their own way they'd all come here for the same reasons. She'd been drawn here in a slightly different manner, but she supposed it wasn't completely inaccurate to class herself as one of those very same lost souls. She agreed with Dav, for Lita, there could be no better place.
This bond with Jago, though - this connection which seemed to have rid him of sense in a moment of danger. That worried her. With the separation of he and Ksandra so recent, and for very similar reasons, she wondered if this was right for him. He'd grown so much in the past few years, gained strength, wisdom. Become a true Jedi Master, and was rightfully acknowledged as such. But his heart was sometimes a little too big, a little too open. A little too willing to trust and to care. And if his feelings for Lita were what Dav had suggested they might be... well, what did that mean? Could he separate his feelings and his duty? Could he keep the balance between his life as a Jedi and his fondness for this Iridonian?
She knew first hand how tricky that was. It took the right people, with the right combination of qualities, and it wasn't achievable by every couple that ever walked the Galaxy. If Dav and Tebana had proven that it could work, then Jago and Ksandra had just as much proven that it couldn't. It concerned her.
That's not all though, is it?
Yet again, she'd had to bring Jago back from the brink of death. She was not unused to the task, to the Jedi of the Praxeum racing away on one task or another, taking a beating along the way, and she, only she, being able to patch them back up again. It was part of her calling to heal them, to help them, because they stood in the way of darkness and hate, and sometimes that meant getting hurt so others wouldn't have to. She was aware and accepting of that. But Jago had a remarkable dispensation for getting hurt in the places he shouldn't have. For bringing harm onto himself that ought well have avoided. And her desperation to save him from himself had caused her to lose sight of her principles once before. The reminder of that whole affair... they were painful memories. She'd spent a long time in quiet isolation, trying to heal and move on from the emotional, and psychological scars of the Corruption, trying desperately to find some peace with the fact that her self, her beliefs, her principles and her very will to live had been so devastated, so diminished by the pathogen. Even now, she felt as though she should have been stronger.
What might I have become if they hadn't have come for me? What would my spirit have been if I had died whilst my mind and soul were so compromised?
She had moved on from that, returned to her life, to Yavin and to her family and to fulfilling her duties as a Jedi, but that question, in the deepest darkness of the night or the quietest of moments when her thoughts wandered freely, that question still plagued her from time to time. It plagued her now, because the worst of her actions had been dragged back into the forefront of her memory by, once again, having to save Jago from himself.
At least this time, his actions were in trying to help another, rather than harm himself.
Her mind was drawn from her thoughts when she sensed something across the room - Jago's consciousness returning to him, his mind at last waking up from its deep slumber. She stood, and, light of foot, crossed to him, looking down at his form as he lay, bandaged and with the faint smell of anti-infection balm drifting up from him, upon the bed.
=Tebana Sor=
"Welcome back. How do you feel?"
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jun 28, 2013 8:22:29 GMT -8
~ The mind has a funny way of running even when it is completely shut down.
Jago was never one for visions or prophecy. His dreams often descended quickly into nightmares on his own misgivings and failures. Yet there, in the MedBay, his mind was free to wander without its dark clouds. Spirit soared above, to grace heaven and touch its luster as thought became the eternal river. In that quiet state, neurons fired in a flurry the had not witnessed in years.
He thought of Ksandra. Sweet Ksandra. The woman he felt that maybe he had loved just a bit too much. Someone he lost himself in. His own values, his Jedi ideals, his purpose and path became consumed and twisted into something full of jealousy and greed. Jealous that life called them away from each other, greedy for her affections to the point that they ceased to remain individuals. The best parts of themselves were gone, absorbed into a black hole of fearsome and dangerous compassion. He hadn't felt like Jago anymore. He forgot who he was around her.
And what of Lita? Did he love her?
... Yes. Yes he did. A part of him always had, he mused in internal silence. But around her it was ... Different. He felt like himself. That he could be stubborn, and proud, and indignant, and filled with unyielding passion, and Lita would accept that side of him. Just as he accepted her anger, her frustrations and coldness. Past his staunch exterior was a heart wanting desperately to belong: to belong to his friends and family on the Moon, to belong with someone whom he saw as so beautifully flawed: a mosaic of cracked and broken glass that created a picture so captivating that he was finding it harder and harder to look away. And he knew, he knew, that under the rage and fury, Lita was filled with tenderness and care. He'd seen it in her eyes, her words. So few words that robbed him of all speech.
He had told her he loved her once. She had said nothing in return. She attacked him with scorned anger instead, and it was there, there, that she revealed her deepest feelings. When he showed her that shameful scar upon his chest, to hear her declaration on how she'd never had let it come to pass ...
She loved him too.
Darkness gave way to blurry, unfocused light as his eyelids finally parted. Jago felt drained, but ... better. And right there, first thing, was Tebana Sor.
Of course it would be Tebana. Jago had grown quite accustomed to her being his welcoming back to the world of the living when he pulled these little stunts of his. It brought a soft smile to his lips: he knew immediately that his sister had never left his side, not once. It simply wasn't in her nature. Force, how amazing she was. How ... Stellar. To be there, continuously, for him, after what he had put her through. Forced her to do through his own stupidity and selfishness. She had been angry with him for some time ... For a very long time. Not once did he question her icy chill in the months proceeding, but slowly did their friendship gain enough kindling to blaze forth yet again.
But that was on another planet, at another time. Far, far away from here.
" 'lo Tebana," he said softly, his jaw stretching and forcing itself at odd angles to try and make it work. His tongue brushed the roof of his mouth with a bit of a sickened expression.
" Mouth's a bit dry," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle, knowing that that was the least of his worries.
Tentatively, he looked over to his arms. Down past his elbow they were completely bandaged, hiding the damage beneath. He'd had scars before, oh yes, but this ... This was a new one. Jago flexed a bit to get a better feel for his condition, noting that aside from a bit of soreness from being laid up stiff, he felt ... Fine. Perfectly fine.
" I see you haven't lost your touch," Jago remarked, always impressed with Tebana's talents for fixing the body and soul. Weakly, he stretched his fingertips to her, giving an encouraging nod as he tried to prop himself off his back.
" Gi'me a hand, will ya? Need to sit up."~
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 4, 2013 10:35:19 GMT -8
She gave him a small, slightly restrained, smile, gently taking his arm, helping him to sit upright. She did so gingerly, and with just a moment's hesitation, her dark eyes watching him very carefully as he came upright. Satisfied that he wasn't about to keel over from the effort of sitting up, she turned to the side table and poured him a small cup of water from the jug there.
=Tebana Sor=
"My 'touch' shouldn't have been needed."
The look she gave him had just a hint of frustration about it, which was matched by the slight tightness in her voice, but her Force presence carried the essence of concern, not anger. That sisterly worry, that genuinely protective element that was hers. Water placed in his hand, she relinquished her grasp on the cup, hovering just long enough to be sure that he was able to hold it and lift it to his mouth himself, before moving to the displays at the head of his bed. She tapped on the controls, reviewing live scans and records of his vitals from the past few hours.
=Tebana Sor=
"You're doing well. I'd recommend rest for a few days. No heavy exertion, certainly no fighting -" The remark about avoiding 'electrocution by former Sith with control issues' went unsaid, but it flitted through to the front of her thoughts and lingered for a moment. "- but so long as you keep up with meditation and take it easy, you should make a full recovery."
She frowned at the display for a moment, ostensibly, at least, reviewing his medical condition, though with a purposeful focus on the screen before her rather than him.
=Tebana Sor=
"A Bacta dip for six hours would help speed things up, of course, but it's not essential. Depends how much longer you can bear to be sitting still for."
Now she turned those eyes on him again, and gave a small shake of the head. There was a momentary pause, before she parted her lips.
=Tebana Sor=
"Perhaps you can explain for me, now, just why you got yourself in this state in the first place?"
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jul 9, 2013 13:53:38 GMT -8
~ Jago winced as Tebana chided him for, once again, winding up in the medical center via his own means. It was hard enough trying to be a Jedi and save the Galaxy: he was going to have a few extended stays here, like it or not. However, he knew his sister-of-sorts was only admonishing the fact that she had to treat him, not that he was doing ... well, whatever it was that Jago Pulastra did. He supposed it did get rather worrying to know how frequently the people Tebana cared for often wound up in need of her medicinal expertise. Saving anonymous lives was one thing: being forced to watch those closest to you go through pain and knowing for a fact that you are, more often than not, their only hope? That was another matter entirely.
He stretched out his back, his teeth tightening at how stiff it felt. He felt stiff all over: his muscles just did not want to move. He took to massaging over his thighs and calves to try and restore a bit of life to them as he listened to Tebana's diagnosis. "Doing Well" was more than he could have asked for: the intensity of the burn and the resulting shock to his nervous system had been ... painful, to say the least. It was not an experience he wanted to relive. Ever. He was almost a bit embarrassed as he recalled just what sort of state he had been in when Tee first came to look him over, and that she needed to calm him down before she could even start treatment. Jedi didn't scream or cry after all, neh?
Except when they did.
At the mention of a bacta dip and the disgusting phrase "sitting still", Jago waved his hands and shook his head adamantly.
" No no, I've been still long enough. I need to get up, I need to mo-"
She struck him with a question demanding an answer. Jago could only chuckle sheepishly, running a hand through his thick, messy hair.
She wanted to know about Lita. He figured they'd be getting around to this conversation sooner or later. He just didn't figure it would be this soon. With a sigh, he relented.
" Lita was in trouble. She needed my help," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders to add to the statement that it honestly was that simple to him.
" I ... Felt her. Through The Force," he extrapolated a little further, " I could feel ... Darkness. Pain. Anger. Confusion. When I found her in one of the dorm rooms, there was lightning crackling along her fingers already. She was hurting, Tee ..."
He looked up at Tebana, meeting her chocolate ovals with the purest blue. His eyes betrayed his sincerity, his worry for the daughter of Iridonia.
" I didn't know what else to do, it was like she couldn't hear me. So, I grabbed her hands, and ... well ..."
He held up his bandaged palms and fingers, as if that was all there was more to be said about it.
" I couldn't think ahead. I just knew that she needed someone, needed ... me, I guess. And I reacted."
His shoulders sagged as he reflected on how careless he had been with such a volatile and dangerous situation.
" Pretty stupid of me, I suppose. I could have done something different, I'm sure, it just ... I could not stand to see her like that."~
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 10, 2013 18:06:29 GMT -8
The small frown on her brow and the thinly pressed lips gave her a stern look, and Tebana turned her gaze away from Jago for a moment as she thought. On the one hand, she understood, entirely, what he meant. She long ago pledged to ease the suffering of others. She couldn't overlook any pain with any ease.
But this... he was right. He should have thought of something else. He had been a Jedi for a long time and he should have known better.
=Tebana Sor=
"She could have killed you, Jago. She nearly did."
Her eyes returned to him, stern still.
=Tebana Sor=
"All because you didn't take a moment to think about what you were doing."
She shook her head, stood, and took a few steps around the bed, fingers curled into tight fists at her side. After a few strides, she stopped, and turned back to him.
=Tebana Sor=
"After everything that happened with Kas... after both of you, losing control of your sense, rushing in unthinking, brushing close to disaster because of each other... is this the same thing again, Jago?"
There. She'd said it. Jago and Ksandra had been unhealthy, something that everyone had taken just a little too long to acknowledge. In quieter and more candid moments, there had been fleeting thoughts shared between her and Dav that maybe, just maybe, their two dearest friends were destructive influences on one another, but no-one had been willing to entertain the thought of just how bad it had gotten.
It had taken Sabine Durnol, who nearly captured Jago, nearly killed Ksandra, and drove them both to breaking point, to make it clear to everyone that Jago and Ksandra had a problem in their relationship. One that couldn't be fixed, though they certainly tried.
They had loved each other, but in the end, they were bad for each other... there was too much repressed, too much ignored. Ksandra carried too much jealousy and fear, and Jago had been in a constant battle to help her control her emotions, to the neglect of his own control. The constant struggles, Ksandra's insecurities, borne of the problems she had, the moments where Jago felt like he was giving so much and getting nothing but distance in return, it had all led to resentment. And the biggest realisation of all - they were too absorbed in each other, to the detriment of their duties. Ultimately, they'd realised they couldn't make it work, no matter how much they wanted to. They split up, Ksandra left, and everyone wondered just how any of them had let things get so off-track.
And now, now what? This Lita had been a Sith, and still carried the rage and pain and distrust and hurt. It was different to Kassy's. More immediate, possibly more healthily and honestly expressed, in an ironic fashion, but Lita seemed to Tebana just as unstable, just as out of control of her self, as their own dear Ksandra had been. If her and Jago became as absorbed and obsessed with each other as he and Ksandra? Tebana dreaded to think what would become of them.
=Tebana Sor=
"I just don't want to see you lose yourself in something destructive again."
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