"Audio Log Number...." [Audible Sigh, sound indicates lighting of a cigarette.]
"I don't know what number this is. Nearly 20 years of doing this and I've finally reached the point I've forgotten where I am. This isn't a research log any way, more of a personal journal."
"I can...hear it now, I guess. Like a soft hum at the back of the mind, an itch at the end of the ears. Braze would tell me it's the force. Logic would tell me its the medichlorians in my blood responding at the level dictated by the concentrations I know they exist in. I pulled up the old record from my academy years. 16,000 per cell. I know it's high, I can't explain it. Perhaps something in my mother's ancestry, perhaps something in my father's blood line stretching back to the Green Jedi of old, broken Corella."
[Audible inhale of breath, then exhale.]
"Oh to ponder on the things I have come to learn, come to know. I think, perhaps, I have been cursed to know the things I do, on the force, on the Jedi, the Sith, and their constituents since. I think it would have been a mercy to be ignorant of certain things. To know of the events and the blood shed. I don't share these moments with Braze. I think he knows, I think he might understand."
"For all the frustration that little Silvered Mynock curses me with, he is perceptive like that. Knows things I wouldn't ever think to learn. He doesn't judge either. I don't think I could ever really thank him properly for that. I messed up with that little stunt with the sith in the basement. Think I actually upset him. He's...not nearly as good at hiding his emotions as he think he is."
"That's the funny thing. My mother's teachings have taught me the the art of reading people. I...don't think that force played in to that, for the longest time, but now I don't know..."
"I don't know what number this is. Nearly 20 years of doing this and I've finally reached the point I've forgotten where I am. This isn't a research log any way, more of a personal journal."
"I can...hear it now, I guess. Like a soft hum at the back of the mind, an itch at the end of the ears. Braze would tell me it's the force. Logic would tell me its the medichlorians in my blood responding at the level dictated by the concentrations I know they exist in. I pulled up the old record from my academy years. 16,000 per cell. I know it's high, I can't explain it. Perhaps something in my mother's ancestry, perhaps something in my father's blood line stretching back to the Green Jedi of old, broken Corella."
[Audible inhale of breath, then exhale.]
"Oh to ponder on the things I have come to learn, come to know. I think, perhaps, I have been cursed to know the things I do, on the force, on the Jedi, the Sith, and their constituents since. I think it would have been a mercy to be ignorant of certain things. To know of the events and the blood shed. I don't share these moments with Braze. I think he knows, I think he might understand."
"For all the frustration that little Silvered Mynock curses me with, he is perceptive like that. Knows things I wouldn't ever think to learn. He doesn't judge either. I don't think I could ever really thank him properly for that. I messed up with that little stunt with the sith in the basement. Think I actually upset him. He's...not nearly as good at hiding his emotions as he think he is."
"That's the funny thing. My mother's teachings have taught me the the art of reading people. I...don't think that force played in to that, for the longest time, but now I don't know..."
