TheCorsair
Pēdicãbo ego võs et irrumäbo
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2013
Time.
Space.
Reality.
The unenlightened believe each of these to be separate and unchanging, a single linear path that all must follow. Those who walk in harmony with the Cosmic Force, however, see them for what they are - interchangeable aspects of the Living Force, a prism of endless possibility where a single choice can branch out into infinite destinies. The unenlightened will ask “which of these destinies is true? Which will come to pass?” But those who walk in harmony with the Cosmic Force will understand.
All of them are true.
All of them will come to pass.
All are united, in the Cosmic Force.
Space.
Reality.
The unenlightened believe each of these to be separate and unchanging, a single linear path that all must follow. Those who walk in harmony with the Cosmic Force, however, see them for what they are - interchangeable aspects of the Living Force, a prism of endless possibility where a single choice can branch out into infinite destinies. The unenlightened will ask “which of these destinies is true? Which will come to pass?” But those who walk in harmony with the Cosmic Force will understand.
All of them are true.
All of them will come to pass.
All are united, in the Cosmic Force.
From The Book of the Whills
Star Wars:
Eclipse of the Black Sun
Eclipse of the Black Sun
Mustafar
"You wanna get in on the pool?"
Two men sat at a small table, idly watching a bank of monitors. The speaker, a tall, pale human in a grey jumpsuit, slouched in his chair with an air of boredom. His companion, a leathery Gungan, looked up from the blaster he was servicing. "What pool?"
"How long it'll take the Jedi to escape and kill us all."
The Gungan glanced at the lone figure on the monitor screens, then turned back to his weapon. "Miss Linora tinks weesa hold him. How meesa collect if we die?"
A shrug. "Nah. It's the satisfaction of knowwing you were right, really. You know, before you die."
The Gungan snorted, then made a few adjustments with a wrench. "Right. An' if he doesn't and none of us win?"
"Then, in a month, we use the money to bring a few girls in and we have us a party." The human chuckled. "That way, everyone wins."
The Gungan chuckled as well. "Right. Meesa in, then. Twenty-two days open?"
"Oooh, optimistic!" the human laughed, checking his data slate. "And yeah, it is. I'll put you down."
-*-
Suspended in his restraints, Quentin was sweating profusely. Not out of fear or discomfort, although the restraints certainly weren't comfortable, but because he had drawn on the Force to accelerate his metabolism. All of the various drugs he was purging had to go somewhere, after all, and not everything could be exhaled.
Linora had clearly had a hand in designing this cell, because it was clearly designed to restrain a Jedi. Suspension restraints that held him spread-eagled and which injected a chemical cocktail to muddy his thinking. Randomly strobing lights to keep him disoriented. Oh, and the occasional electric shock, just to convulse his muscles and keep things interesting. Very clever work.
He figured he'd be out in another half hour. But then, he wasn't the typical Jedi.
Muscles still twitching from the latest shock, he concentrated his perceptions on the restraint engulfing his right hand and wrist. Matter was nothing but fields of interlocking forces, after all. Once you had the knack, it was as easy to look within an object as upon it. The Miraluka had mastered this secret tens of thousands of years ago, and had taught it to the Jedi. Slowly, he began to understand the structure of the restraint.
Then he heard the door open. Waves of fear washed across his skin, followed by two familiar presences. One like dark flame, burning by freezing. The other seething rage, armoring a core of dispair. With a sigh he opened his eyes, taking in the forms of Linora and Kaydia. Both were guarding their thoughts, but it was clear from their body language that this wasn't a rescue. He composed his thoughts, submerging his distress at seeing the woman he loved standing with the woman who he had loved.
"I hope you'll forgive my poor manners," he said, forcing a wry smile. "I pride myself on my manners, but... well, I'm a little tied up right now."