Private A Quiet Pull

[Lyra Ventor]

For a moment, Lyra couldn't move.

Not because of the monster clinging to the platform above them, not because of the ancient facility humming with a sick, unstable energy—but because Syn, the centuries-old Jedi Master who had carried her through darkness and water and corruption, leaned in close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath and pressed his forehead gently to hers. The contact was grounding, intimate in a way she was completely unprepared for. Her pulse stuttered hard against her ribs as the world around her narrowed to the warmth of him and the faint, steady hum of the Force radiating from his skin.

And then he kissed her. Not accidentally. Not out of desperation. A deliberate, measured kiss—brief but real—given to her with the same certainty he carried into battle. His hand lingered against her arm, steadying her, guiding her fingers along the hilt of the blade for one last moment before he pulled back. Lyra didn't gasp. Didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

She froze where she stood, breath locked in her chest, mind blanking out so completely she may as well have been hit with a stun bolt. Everything she'd been feeling—the fear, the confusion, the strange electric attraction she kept forcing herself to ignore—collapsed into a single overwhelming rush that left her unable to think or even breathe properly.

Did he just—Did he actually—Maker above, had he really kissed her?

Syn's voice reached her as if from somewhere far away, calm and steady despite the monstrous presence filling the chamber. "When I say so, run along the platforms. Get behind. Do not look back."

His words washed over her without sinking in. She stood rooted in place, fingers numb around the sword she had nearly forgotten she was holding. Her body refused to respond. Her thoughts stumbled and tangled, unable to catch up with reality. The Force churned around her, but she barely felt it; all she could sense was the echo of his lips against hers and the rush of heat flooding her skin.

Then Syn's tone sharpened—still gentle, but edged with urgency. "Lyra. Go now." That single word struck through the haze like a blade, and the spell shattered.

She inhaled sharply, a shaky, uneven breath that finally broke through the paralysis. Her legs jolted into motion before her mind fully caught up, adrenaline flooding her system so intensely she nearly stumbled backward. She swore under her breath, color burning up her neck and across her cheeks, her heart thundering so loudly she was sure he could hear it—even through the roar of the Force.

"O-okay—right—yes—" The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush. "Going."

She didn't dare look at him again. If she did, she wasn't sure her legs would keep moving.

Lyra turned and sprinted along the platform exactly as he'd told her, each step jarring, each heartbeat a frantic, disorganized flutter inside her chest. She clutched the sword like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to reality, the metal cool and steady in her hand while everything inside her felt blisteringly hot.

Behind her, two snap-hisses cut through the chamber—Syn's twin white blades igniting in perfect unison. A pulse of raw, focused power surged through the air as he released the restraint he'd been holding onto, the Force burning around him like a star on the brink of collapsing into itself. The metal grating beneath her feet vibrated as he launched forward, the dent left by his boot marking the spot where he'd kicked off hard enough to move with impossible speed.

The creature shrieked. Syn met it head-on.

And Lyra, halfway down the platform with her lungs burning and her face aflame, whispered under her breath, stunned and overwhelmed and unable to process any of it: "…did he really just kiss me?"

But she didn't stop. She didn't look back. She ran for the console and the path he needed her to take—still dazed, still flustered, but moving because Syn had asked her to run. And because if she thought too hard about what had just happened, she wasn't sure her legs would keep carrying her at all.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He knew Lyra had moved, his entire world narrowed to the brutal nature of the fight beforre him. The Sithspawn was a fluid, brutal thing, her composition unknown and more malleable than his own. She likely contained a slew of species just as he did but it was always different among them. To make something stronger but she was lighter than expected as he felt her form... the flesh was more soft and mushy over dense like him. The impact of him slamming her into the wall elicited a wet, pained grunt, though both refused to give the other the satisfaction of a true scream. He was learning her rhythms fast; her elongated arms moved at impossible angles, but he felt her feet press into his chest, claws digging deep as she tried to stretch and kick him away. "Brother... always so quick father said."

A low rumble sounded in his throat. Instead of pulling back, he pushed forward, accepting the gouging wounds as he folded her limbs up, using her own leverage to pin her harder against the groaning metal. The white light of his blades illuminated the twisted triumph on her face. "He never knew the real me," Syn growled, the words punctuated by the tension in his muscles. "Too busy tryin' to see his own reflection, praying there was someone as disgusting as him in the universe." He drove her deeper into the wall. "Take a long look, sister. I'm nothing like you or him." With a sound of popping cartilage, she contorted free of his pin, dropping to the floor and scrambling back with insectile speed.

"No. You're less," Moroven hissed, her voice a venomous scrape. "That's why father never really loved you. Because you weren't me. You weren't us." THe jedi master was looking at her as his blade bit into her shoulders and he continued to fold her up more into she even grunted with wet popping sounds. "Look at you," he retorted, pulling himself steadily forward his sabers humming. "Thinking you're the big evil Sith fighting for what? A remnant, chasing a dead man's approval." A dagger thin smirk touched his lips. "But you still can't go in the sun without smelling like bacon, can you?" That seemed to annoy her more and more. "Like you're any different!" she shrieked, kicking herself at him in a blur of claws and rage.

He met the kicks, sparks flying as his blades bit into her clawed foot. "Well, that's just it. I am, and you know it," he grunted, shoving her back on the wall as she couldn't get a grip. "You had a choice same as me. Sealed away here as a punishment for all the horrible failures you'd had." His voice rose, cutting over the reactor's hum. "But me, I fought for my freedom. Went through the centuries trials. It almost did me in a thousand times over, but I kept fighting 'cause I knew it was the right thing to do." He looked at her as he drove a blade into her should slicing down the length of the arm while she screamed. "Cause I knew we were going to need to be stopped."

Moroven landed in a crouch as she ripped her own limb off.. to escape the pin and balanced on one arm and one leg. Panting, a grotesque smile spreading across her features. Her voice dropped to a mocking, conspiratorial whisper that slithered through the chaos of the fight and the reactor chamber. "Really? Heard it was just to not be in a jedi prison." The words hit with the force of a physical blow, halting Syn's advance for a single moment, he didn't doubt his intention or purpose... he thought back almost nine hundred years ago and what had happened with a look back at her. "No it was for something you could never and would never understand." He kicked off again with a charge.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra ran as Syn had commanded, sprinting across the narrow metal platform with the sword tight in her grip and the echo of his kiss still burning against her lips. She wanted to focus solely on the console ahead, on the job he'd trusted her with—but the moment Syn and the creature collided behind her, the entire world convulsed with violence she could feel in her bones.

Even without turning, she sensed the fight erupting like a storm. The metal walkway shuddered beneath her boots, shaking in rhythm with every impact of Syn's body slamming into the far wall. The air filled with the screech of metal warping under force, the guttural wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh, the shrill, distorted snarls of the thing that called itself his sister. She reached the console, but her hand hovered uselessly above the controls as the sounds behind her intensified. Every instinct she had screamed at her to keep going—and every equally powerful instinct refused to let her ignore what was happening.

When she finally forced herself to glance back, she wished she hadn't. Syn wasn't fighting like any Jedi she'd ever heard stories about. The calm, meditative warrior she'd imagined had been replaced by something ferociously focused, dangerously precise, and terrifyingly strong. His movements were fluid and brutal, his muscles drawn tight with centuries of forged discipline. Each strike of his twin sabers carved shimmering arcs through the air, illuminating the twisted figure he battled—his sister, though calling her that felt wrong. Her elongated limbs snapped in unnatural angles, her joints bending like a creature made more of nightmares than flesh.

The words being thrown between them were worse. Brother. Father. Failures. Centuries.

Hearing Syn speak those words—hearing her snarl them back—made cold ripples of disbelief crawl along Lyra's spine. She had pieced together fragments of his past before, glimpses of memories that had broken through when she touched the Force without meaning to, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of what he faced now: a living creation of the same monstrous mind that had forged him. A being who looked at Syn with the same familiarity someone might use when speaking to a sibling, yet with nothing but hatred in her eyes.

A sibling. A Sithspawn. Something that should not exist.

And somehow, Lyra could feel pieces of it. Not clearly, not like watching a holofilm, but like being haunted by the echo of something she wasn't meant to touch. The memories she'd caught earlier—his memories—flickered again at the edges of her consciousness. Not fully formed, but real enough to make her stomach twist. She knew she shouldn't have been able to see any of it. She knew no normal person did this.

The Force. Maker help her—she was using the Force. She had been using it. She was still using it now, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Every instinct she had told her to deny it, to shove it back down, to pretend she was imagining it. But she wasn't imagining anything. Not anymore.

Her breath came unsteadily as Syn faltered for a heartbeat—just one—when his sister spat a cruel accusation about his past. The shift in his stance, the tightening of his shoulders, the hurt she felt ripple through the Force…it all struck her with startling clarity. She shouldn't have been able to sense that. She shouldn't have felt anything from him. But she did. And the sudden ache it sparked in her chest made her realize something even more dangerous:

She cared. Maker help her, she cared far too much for someone she'd met hours ago.

She hated that. Hated how aware she'd become of him. Hated that she trusted him instinctively. Hated that even now, hearing him grunt in pain and slam into a railing, her whole body reacted as if she'd been hit too. She wanted to be angry with herself for it—but there was no time to think, and no space to indulge in fear or embarrassment. He had kissed her just moments before the fight began, and that single, unexpected, grounding connection had rearranged something in her chest.

Lyra forced herself to turn back to the console, fingers shaking only slightly as she began working through systems she barely recognized. Syn needed her to shut down the reactor; everything depended on it. She couldn't fail him. Not after everything he'd carried her through, physically and metaphorically. Not after the way he'd trusted her, spoken to her, protected her, and laid bare a sliver of the ancient, wounded truth he never shared with anyone.

But even as she began rerouting the power feeds, even as she cut through the overloaded circuits, one thought beat in her mind with steady, relentless insistence:

How in the Maker's name am I supposed to walk away from this man now?

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

His focus was on the beast in front of him and even as injured as she was.. the limbs were still able to be used like clubs to bludgeon. His charge brought him into her with a shoulder tackle again off of the platform she was on and they went down towards the bottom floor as the sound of bones and things cracking as they impacted came with a loud sound. His blades slicing into her more while claws went for his throat and chest. The one getting caught on the collar bone as he bled for a moment longer... rolling over and over into the bones and armor. The plasteel, bone chunks and other things of metal biting into them but he was smashing, grabbing and slashing with blades and anything he could get.

He was moving and shifted as he was punching.. the snarls from Moroven coming louder as she tried to bite and tear at him but he caught her jaw and a tooth came out. Embedded in his fist before he was pulling back and kicking off of the beasts chest. To drop down with a double handed blade strike as the saber stayed on and dug into the floor below. She snarled with a roar pulling to the side and a massive gash took a portion of her lower body as it sliced through a hip bone. She was still moving and trying to get away before he rolled over pulling the blade back to himself with frresh gashes on his back. The feeling of the blood was there and in the muscle of his arm.

He moved forward again with a more relentless strike as it slashed to get her to dodge... his other blade coming up into a stab as he held it there in her mouth with a look at her in the force. The sound of the power systems rerouting so that it would seal and shut down the facility. "I release you." He said it and withdrew the blade letting her fall down as he worked to make sure there wasn't life in her body. Not violently but to make sure she was past as one hand came out and he pushed into the bones and metal scraps... armor and weapon pieces. Making a hole he put her body in and pieces that he could retrieve before covering her up.

He looked up but remained there for a moment sliding his sabers onto his hip sheaths before he started to climb back up with as he moved for a moment and sat there on a platform. He looked up where he still needed to climb but took a moment to breathe and allowing himself to refocus himself. THe shield he had was still in place as he had extended it but now he could focus.. Narrowing his thought to just a few things that needed to be done. He let out a breath though that was longer and rolled over bringing himself back to what he was before and composed himself letting the blood run clear from the wounds but he knew they were already healing as he climbed up to go back to Lyra.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra had barely managed to override the final security loop on the reactor controls before the whole chamber shook with the impact of Syn colliding with the creature. The console sparked once under her hands, protesting centuries of neglect. Still, she forced it into compliance with a sharp sequence of taps and a bypass reroute that was absolutely not standard procedure, even by Outer Rim standards. The lights flickered, dimmed, and then stabilized in a deep amber warning glow — a confirmation that she'd successfully triggered the shutdown cascade he'd asked for. The reactor would power down sector by sector, sealing doors and disabling systems as it progressed toward a complete lockout. It wasn't elegant, but it would work, and work fast.

She didn't get the satisfaction of watching the confirmation line complete.

The entire walkway heaved under her feet as Syn and the monster crashed from one platform to another, their fight a brutal, seismic thing that felt less like combat and more like the tearing apart of something ancient and hungry. Lyra stumbled back from the console, gripping the metal rail as the walls vibrated around her, the hum of elderly machinery clashing with the echo of violence ricocheting up from the levels below. She held her breath without realizing it, boots planted wide, knuckles whitening around the grip of the sword she'd taken from the vault.

The sounds were unbearably clear — the wet crunch of bodies slamming into steel, the guttural snarl of Syn's voice when he struck, the inhuman screech of something that should never have existed in the first place. Each impact rolled through the chamber like a physical blow, and though she tried not to feel it, not to listen, not to know, something in her mind reverberated with every exchange. It wasn't sight. It wasn't sound. It was… pressure, like someone striking a tuning fork against the inside of her skull. She hated it. Hated that she felt any part of it. Hated that she couldn't shake the thought that the Force — the thing she kept insisting was not hers — was dragging its claws gently along her awareness, whether she wanted it or not.

She leaned back against the nearest support beam, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead for a moment as she tried to breathe through the impossible tension seizing her muscles. She refused to look over the edge. He'd told her not to turn around, not to watch, not to witness what he was about to unleash, and even in the chaos, even in the terror rising like a tide inside her, she trusted that instruction completely. So she stood still, sword angled defensively, eyes fixed on the sealed reactor doors, forcing herself not to flinch as another monstrous scream cut the air and abruptly stopped mid-note.

The silence that followed was almost worse.

It wasn't peaceful. It was weighted, heavy, echoing with the aftershocks of violence. Lyra felt it long before she heard movement — a subtle shift in the strange pressure in her chest, the intangible awareness of Syn's presence pushing outward again instead of grappling with something vicious in the shadows. Her breath stuttered as the realization set in: the fight was over, and someone was alive.

A moment later, she heard the sound of climbing — steady, deliberate, metallic. Lyra pushed off the beam, forcing her posture into something that looked composed even though her hands still trembled around the hilt of the blade. She swallowed once, too tightly, trying to banish the heat rising in her face. It didn't help. Not when Syn's head and shoulders emerged over the edge of the platform, his bare torso streaked with blood — some his, some not — and every line of his body drawn taut from effort.

He looked entirely unbroken.
Of course he did.

Lyra's breath hitched before she managed to smooth it into something quieter, less revealing. She tightened her grip on the sword, not because she needed it, but because the solidity of it anchored her against the swirl of relief and shock threatening to unravel her composure.

She didn't move toward him. She didn't run to check his wounds or demand to know he was alright — she kept her spine straight, shoulders squared, jaw set in the way she used when flying through a storm and pretending it didn't rattle her. But her voice, when it finally left her, betrayed more than she meant it to.

"…did you kill her?" she asked, the words emerging in a single, steady breath that still felt too thin, too fragile.

She lifted her chin, meeting the blindfolded angle of his face with as much steadiness as she could muster. But the truth lingered beneath her calm exterior — the kind of truth that tightened her chest and left a strange ache behind her ribs:

He had kissed her.
Then he had thrown himself into a battle that could have swallowed him whole.
And she had stood frozen, unable to tear her thoughts away from the fear — not for herself, but for him.

And now that he stood in front of her again, alive and solid and impossibly steady, she didn't know what scared her more:

That she'd felt the echoes of his fight as if they'd been happening inside her…

…or that a part of her desperately, quietly, overwhelmingly cared that he'd come back.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He moved climbing up the rest of the way and was there for a moment before he heard her ask and felt her. Looking with the force while his face was still pointed at the ceiling of the room they were in. "I released her, sealing her in here injured would have been something he would do and no matter how wicked, no matter how cruel. Some mercy should be given even to an enemy." He said it while laying there for a moment long before rolling over and showing gashes on his back as it went from should to his pants. He pushed up and stood there for a moment before he started to move. Allowing the force to guide his movements on the platform but he looked at Lyra finally.

"You did good." He moved and tapped her shoulder in a friendly way of appreciation. "We should move to not get sealed in ourselves." He said it while moving and they wouldn't have to go far.. they had a direct path back to the vaults and the door leading out into the shaft so walking would be easier as he was going with a small look at her. "I know you may have questions, concerns, wonderings and I shall answer everything you want starting with the biggest one. Even if it was only once with the possibility of death for us. It was worth it to have been here with you. It made things have a purpose beyond my own cause and ego."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra stood very still as Syn climbed the last stretch of the platform, her hands resting lightly at her sides, even though every instinct in her body urged her to reach for him the moment she saw the state he was in. The wounds on his back were deep enough to make her stomach tighten, raw grooves carved across muscle and skin that should have killed any ordinary being. Yet he moved with the same calm determination he always carried—as if pain were just another part of existence, something to acknowledge but never fear. She watched him roll onto the platform, watched the rise and fall of his breath as he gathered himself, and something inside her settled and broke open at the same time.

When he said he had released his sister, her mind struggled to find balance between shock and something dangerously close to admiration. Released her. Not destroyed her. Not left her to rot in the darkness. He had shown mercy to something that had tried to tear him apart—something born of the same horrors that shaped him. Lyra couldn't decide if that made him impossibly noble or impossibly tragic. Maybe both. Either way, it made her chest tighten with an emotion she wasn't ready to identify.

She swallowed softly, forcing her voice past the tightness in her throat. "You…let her go?"

The question hovered between them like a fragile thread. His answer was steady—not defensive, not proud, simply honest—and Lyra felt the ground shift under her, as if she were seeing him again for the first time. The calm dignity in his explanation didn't make sense coming from someone capable of fighting with such ferocity, such violence, such raw power. And yet it made perfect sense—because he wasn't like anyone she'd known. Not even close.

Her eyes followed him as he pushed up into a standing position, the torn flesh across his back making her inhale sharply. She stepped forward before she could stop herself, instinctively closing the distance, ready to steady him or catch him or do something—anything—even though part of her knew he didn't truly need help. But the impulse wasn't rational. It wasn't measured. It was human. A response to someone who had shielded her, who had risked more than she'd understood, who had bared pieces of himself she'd never expected to see.

When he tapped her shoulder gently and told her she had done well, the simple praise caught her off guard. It shouldn't have mattered—she was just a mercenary, he was a Jedi Master older than entire civilizations, and this whole ordeal should have been nothing but a job gone catastrophically sideways. But his approval mattered in a way she didn't have a defense against, and she felt her breath catch somewhere between her ribs.

They began moving together through the corridor, the fading hum of the disabled facility echoing behind them. The silence that followed wasn't empty; it was thick with unspoken questions, with the lingering echo of everything she'd seen in the Force, with the raw awareness of the bond that had flickered open between them. She didn't fully understand it, didn't fully accept it, but she couldn't deny it either—not after the visions, the memory-bridges, the kiss he had given her before the fight, the feeling of him in her mind like a warm current she hadn't known she could touch.

And then he spoke again—gently, quietly, offering the truth she hadn't dared to ask for. "It was worth it to have been here with you. It made things have a purpose beyond my own cause and ego."

Lyra stopped walking. The words struck her like an electric pulse, heat blooming at the base of her throat as she tried to gather her reaction before it could spill across her features. Of everything she expected him to say—warnings, instructions, reassurances—she had never expected that. Never expected something so open. So vulnerable. And certainly not directed at her.

Her voice trembled on the edge of disbelief as she looked up at him. "Syn…you can't just say things like that."

Her breath escaped in a soft, uneven wave, her pulse racing without permission. "Not after everything that happened. Not after what you just—what you fought." She shook her head slightly, trying and failing to look away from him. "You can't make me think you meant it."

But as the words left her, she realized the truth pressed against her chest even harder than her fear: She wanted him to mean it. And that terrified her far more than the monster they had just escaped.

Her gaze rose again, slower this time, her expression softer, unguarded in a way she rarely allowed. "…because if you did," she added quietly, "I don't know what that makes this."

The space between them felt charged, delicate, as a wire pulled tight that neither dared to pluck for fear of what the vibration might reveal. She took a small breath, letting the tension settle, allowing the truth to shape itself without panic or denial.

"I don't know how to answer that yet," she admitted, voice warmer now, steadier. "But I'm not walking away from it."

Her hand brushed his arm—not by accident, not entirely deliberate—a fleeting, instinctive touch of connection that said more than she was ready to verbalize.

"Let's get out of here," she murmured, softer than before. "And then you can tell me the rest."

She didn't step back. She didn't avoid him. She didn't hide.

Whatever this was—whatever strange, dangerous, impossible thing had begun between them—she was no longer denying it.

Not after everything they had survived together.

Not after everything he had said.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He gave her a nod of his head while walking and only spoke for a moment. "I have no reason to not mean it." He said it while moving as the doors were sealing from the inside with the hole they had cut in the wall. THe vaults sealing as going past the doors they had gotten open he pried and held to slip out for both of them and stand on the platform. His senses going out as he looked towards the area below and there were still things down there but they weren't coming up.. things were running to try and get out but the doors were sealing with a hiss as the pressure seals went into place. Sealing it and all the treasures, bodies and things within but it was fine as he stood there on the platform.

Taking a moment when the open air went against his skin. He could feel it while he stood there breathing outwards with the force and then in for a moment... holding it and releasing with a small look before he turned to look at her. He waas allowing the force to work on healing parts of his torso where it needed to be. The deeper wounds being worked on aas he brought his saber out and as the door was closed he held the blade against the metal of the door and the frame. Melting the metal into a solid seam that went the length of it. THe welds not entirely perfect for it but they wouldn't be able to have the door opened easily.

"I meant it, the force brought me to you, as much as you do not like it. As much as you want to say it is not involved it is in everything to a degree. Your talent plays a much larger factor, your skill that you have honed." He stayed still enough while looking at her but breathed in for the moment. A steady rise aand then fall of his chest while he spoke. "As for this Lyra, this is whatever you wish it to be. Leave here at the nearest chance, never look upon me again. I'll make my way as I always have. With the small memory of the talented pilot that I met. That you've taught me one thing. To be surprised at the talent of others. Something I had disregarded more than I had thought I did."

He remained there though with a small look at her. "And yet, in this there is something of the force. Our meeting something so infinitesimal. A human coupling, a thousand million sperm vied for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every chance to just as easily hate and of that union of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to aurodium… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermo-dynamic miracle."

He said it and looked at her while bringing a hand out to hold it near her cheek with his thumb to trace if she let it from her nose to the edge of her cheek as he tilted his head. He was looking at her but he remained there offering the warmth and comfort with the force to her in his presence alone. There was a lot here but for the moment they had a stillness, calming auras all around as he didn't feel the mental presence of Moroven trying to press on his mental shields. He just had this moment as he watched it all. "As much as I enjoy a fight, I cannot always indulge myself and just now I have more weighty matters to occupy my time and thoughts than spilling the blood of strange creatures that fear us."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra didn't look at him at first. She let the wind cool the heat still clinging to her skin, let the final clang of the sealed vault fade into the cavern, let her heartbeat slow from the frantic thrum it had become while she waited for him to climb back up. But the moment he spoke — calm, deliberate, impossibly steady after what he had just done — something in her chest pulled tight.

He meant it. All of it. Every impossible, disarming thing he'd said.

She exhaled shakily, not from fear this time, but from the quiet, unnerving weight of honesty settling between them like a second presence.

When his hand came to her cheek, she didn't pull away. She couldn't. The warmth of his palm, the gentle, slow trace of his thumb across her skin — it felt like it was cracking open something she'd kept sealed for years. Her breath hitched, the mountain air suddenly too thin, too sharp.

"You make it sound so easy," she murmured, voice low and tight, though she didn't move from his touch. "Just… choosing what all of this means."

She swallowed, searching for control she didn't quite have.

"I don't get to make that call. Not about your life. Not about… whatever is happening right now."

Her fingers rose almost on their own, closing lightly around his wrist — not pulling him closer, not asking for anything, just grounding herself in the reality of him. Warm skin. Steady grip. A presence that had protected her again and again, even though he had every right to walk away.

Her voice softened, losing its usual edge.

"But don't talk like you're just something I can forget. Or someone I'll walk away from without thinking twice."

She lifted her eyes to him — even if he couldn't see her, she needed to say it, looking directly at him.

"I'm not pretending this didn't change anything for me."

A breath.
A quiet truth that came out almost reluctantly:

"You mattered today. More than you should have."

She stepped closer, her shoulder brushing the faint warmth of his arm as she slipped past him toward the ramp leading up and out of the shaft.

"I don't know what this means," she admitted, steady but soft. "And I'm not asking you to decide anything for me. Or for yourself."

Her gaze focused on the exit ahead — safer than looking at him for too long.

"But I'm not running. Not pretending this was nothing. That's all I can promise right now."

She tightened her grip on the sword she'd taken, bracing herself with the familiar weight of it.

"Let's just get out of here," she finished quietly.
A pause.
"And… thank you. For coming back."

It wasn't a confession.
It wasn't a claim.
It was just the truth — raw, unpolished, and hers.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

Well at least it wasn't a rejection.. he gave a nod as they could get out of here first. A look up as he spoke seeing the beams and walkways. He allowed the force to guide him as he moved up going from beam to beam with balance but also pulling her up. One benefit he never had to look down as some might say so he could pay attention to the harder parts. His concentration being on lifting and making sure each pathway up was stable enough for them to make it. The groans of metal beams and walkways settling with their weight not the most... encouraging he could admit as the top of the shaft opened more and more. The walkways more exposed to elements and erosion. The last ones fallen away in place.

"We are going to have to climb the last distance." He said it and looked as he was moving but paced it so that Lyra would have the help up where she needed it. HOlding the walkways before he reached the lip of the shaft and it opened onto a mountain top. He got up there and he remained there for a moment while using the force to steady the walkway for her. The mountain he could feel and it was overgrown with trees as the sun was overhead and coming down. "It is morning." he said it when the sun was cresting as he stood there and the scents of the forest came to him. It was good to be out of the caves, the sounds echoing was painful but here now it was all the scents.

He was waiting for her to get her barrings as he looked around. Listening but also checking on the bottom of the pit. "The few things down there heard us but they can't climb the rock so we will be fine. They wouldn't be able to dig into the metal." He was looking at more though as the mountain were awhile off from the port and city... let alone where they had entered. "The city of far off." He said it but the hike would be a lot easier and less stuffy then in the cave while he was looking at Lyra with a small look as he pointed with his other hand going to his belt as he slid the water canteen out. Small but it was designed for survival situations and replenished itself. He took a swig and offered it with a nod. "The heat will mean we need to drink more."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra took the canteen automatically, fingers brushing his for half a second before she realized she was still standing half inside her own adrenaline. The sun felt blinding after the darkness below, too bright, too warm, too normal for everything they'd just crawled out of. She tipped the water back, the coolness hitting her throat like a blessing, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Maker…" she breathed, handing the canteen back, "I don't hear anything climbing after us. Thank the stars for that."

The mountain wind carried fresh air up the shaft—real air, sun-warmed and full of pine and soil. It grounded her in a way the sterile lights of the observatory never could. She stepped forward then, boots crunching lightly against gravel as she looked out over the trees. The city in the distance looked impossibly small, as if the whole world below had shrunk while they were gone.

"How long were we down there?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "It felt like hours. Days. But that can't be…" Her mind flicked automatically to her ship. The repairs were probably finished. Maybe over-finished. The dockmaster might've added fees purely out of spite. "Great," she muttered to herself, "I'm probably getting charged by the hour."

She rubbed her palms lightly on her thighs, trying to work out the lingering tightness in her muscles. Only then did her thoughts settle fully, and with settling came curiosity—the practical kind first, but beneath it something softer, something she refused to name. She glanced sideways at him.

He stood there without strain, no sign of the massive climb they'd just made, the sun catching along the scars on his back and shoulders. Shirtless again, as always. Blindfold still perfectly in place. And that's when the question hit her—not ridiculous, not really, but definitely one she hadn't expected to care about.

"How do you travel?" she asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could overthink them. "I mean—between worlds. If you can't see the controls…or the stars…or the flight paths… do you fly yourself? Or do you just—" She gestured vaguely, trying not to sound like an idiot. "—walk from place to place? Catch transports? Jump on the back of a passing bantha?"

She meant it as a joke—a light, dry one to hide the fact that her mind had spun off with possibilities she absolutely shouldn't be imagining—him in a pilot's chair, navigating the stars purely through the Force…or him not piloting at all and needing someone else…needing her…

Her cheeks warmed before she could stop it.

"I just…" She cleared her throat and looked away, pretending to study the forest line instead of the way the sunlight slid across the shape of him. "I never asked how you get around. And I guess I'm wondering."

She adjusted the sword at her hip, the blade she'd kept, the one that still hummed faintly when her fingers brushed it.

"I should probably know, since…" A breath, thin and steady. "I have to get you back to the port, too."

She didn't say the rest out loud—that a part of her didn't mind that responsibility, that the thought of him relying on her ship, even briefly, sent a strange flutter through her chest. But she felt it. Clear as the sunlight. Clear as the air. And she wondered whether he could feel it too.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He looked at her and thought about it. he did have a ship... though how to explain it had a personality itself. His hand went to his belt as he slipped a communicator out and held it. "I fly." He said it and the communicator glowed for a moment as a muffled voice came out. "I'm upside down." He looked and slipped the fisc over with two fingers as the image of a woman showed up. Her voice coming out fairly mechanical but also worried. "You're alive, when you went out of communication I fear the worse. Followed recall procedure." He looked at it. "I lied, my ship is not here." The communicator said more as it seemed to be looking at him.

"Oh don't give me that, you said if you are out of communication for more then twenty four hours to return to the temple and report. Problems is you gave me these fast engines and no thumbs." He had a small look on his face with that. "Oh say what you will, I can return to get you or you can take a ship to the coordinates." The ship spoke while sending the information to him. "There just show one of those fancy pilots you threaten to replace me with when I don't leave you to your meditations.. see if they'll fly you around." He didn't say anything as the coms cut out and he put the disc back. "Seems my ship returned to the temple to report my missing."

He said it while looking over at her and pulled another thing from his belt as he opened it. Credits and gemstones with small bars of aurodium. "If you need credits for fees, I would request humbly a ride to the temple." He said it while standing there but offered the payment as needed. His senses in the force going out towards the city and the port itself. "And we have been underground for forty two hours." He said it more aas a matter of fact but offered a small look. "If someone tries to cheat you I'll discuss things with them." he said it while offered a small smile and a motion towards the city itself so thaat they could start moving.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra took the offered canteen, drinking slowly before handing it back. Her throat was dry from dust, adrenaline, and—apparently—forty-two hours of cave air. When he spoke about paying for transport, she opened her mouth to respond…and froze as he pulled out the pouch full of credits, gemstones, and aurodium bars.

Maker.

That was more money than she made on some contracts. Enough to replace a ship's hyperdrive core if she really wanted to. Her eyes flicked from the pouch to his face in something between surprise and disbelief.

"I'm not—" she started, then stopped, reconsidering. She wasn't a charity worker. She flew for pay. That was her livelihood. "I mean…You don't need to dump a fortune on me for a ride."

Her tone softened, losing its usual edge of suspicion.

"A standard fare would've covered it. I'm a pilot, not a thief."

She hesitated, thumb hooking into her belt as she looked down the slope toward the distant glint of the port.

"And you did help keep me alive down there." A beat. And wrestle your way through your…family issues."

That last part came out with a slight, awkward shrug.

"So yeah," she continued, meeting his blindfolded gaze as if he could see the earnestness in it, "I'll fly you to your temple. You don't need to pay extra for that. Keep your credits for whatever you'll need after we drop you off."

She stepped past him a few paces, scanning the ridgeline, but paused again when another thought surfaced — one that hit her harder than she expected.

"Forty-two hours…" Lyra rubbed at the scrape along her cheek, wincing. "No wonder everything feels…wrong."

Her voice steadied again as she glanced back at him. "And if someone at the port tries to cheat me on repair fees?" A wry smirk tugged one corner of her mouth. "You're absolutely allowed to 'discuss' it with them. I'd honestly enjoy watching that."

She motioned toward the tree line, setting their path toward civilization.

"Come on. Let's get off this mountain before your ship sends a search party."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor


"I have never seen the appropriate amount." He said it as a joke and was looking at her serious for a moment before she walked past and he gave a nod. "Yes underground time can move faster at times and with the amount of time we spent drying the clothing and crawling through the caves it was going to take longer." He said it while walking with his footing more sure though as he could feel everything here. "We'll just handle the next part as it comes, there is a lot here on the world but the dangerous aspects are handled. The ghosts of the force users here should be at a sense of peace hopefully. Whatever corruption they were subjected to is gone and they can hopefully live."

He was moving and the sounds of the forest were normal for the most part. The sound of birds chirping... animals rustling in the brush and there was the smell of nature... the lowest and smallest scent of predators eating but they were not rabid or a threat they were living as the jedi master continued and moved with certainty and silently. He allowed the force itself to guide him that nothing was coming towards them or along their path. it allowed them to work towards making good time. His voice coming out as he spoke with a small smile on his face. "So this ship of yours, is it close to you? Or is it just a vessel like for some who like to upgrade and get new ones yearly."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra snorted softly under her breath. "A vessel," she repeated, as if the word itself was offensive. "No. Not even close."

Her steps found an easier rhythm as the forest deepened around them, and before she could stop herself, that warm, too-earnest fondness slipped straight into her voice.

"I bought the Starling when I was sixteen," she admitted, sounding embarrassingly proud. "Saved for years. She was a half-dead courier frame stuck in a scrapyard—no engines, fried wiring, hull plates falling off if you breathed too hard. I practically had to beg the yard owner to sell her to me. But the moment I saw her, I knew she was mine."

The trees opened enough that sunlight dappled across the path, and Lyra's grin turned a little shy—because she heard herself. She knew she sounded ridiculous.

"I rebuilt every part I could with junkyard scraps and borrowed tools. Slept in the cargo hold while I worked because I didn't have anywhere else to go. First time I got the engines to cycle without exploding? I cried. Don't laugh."

She shot him a look—again, pointless, but somehow necessary.

"The hyperdrive's custom. The engines are tuned tight enough she'd leave most patrol craft choking on ion wash. I know every screw, every welded seam, every temperamental fuse she kicks when she wants attention."

Her voice softened, more honest than she meant it to be.

"She's not just a ship. The Starling's… the first thing I ever chose for myself. The first thing that stayed. She's home."

A long breath, followed by a self-conscious little shrug.

"So yeah," she said, eyes narrowing playfully even if he'd never see the expression, "she's close to me. Isn't that what you asked?"

There was a beat of silence, and then—quiet, defensive, almost sweet:

"And no, I don't think that answer was too long. You asked about my ship. That's practically a declaration of love where I come from."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He listened to her with his head turned and full attention. He could still move silently through the forest as he was moving but he wanted to make it so she knew he was looking at her.. a small thing... even if he was still managing to walk in a way others might not be able to do. The way she spoke about her ship though was certainly something he had not been expecting.. it was a fairly beautiful moment that he was impressed about. Her final words brought a raise to his eyebrow. "That is certainly an interesting perspective to take with it." He didn't argue though or say it was bad, he understood the mentality in some ways. He kept walking though with a small look of amusement on his face.

The forest shifted the closer they got towards the city. The ground more packed and ruins beginning to be seen. The sounds of water and the scents of everything was coming. He only rubbed at the nose as the pungent scents of oils, rotten food and in the outer areas poor sanitation was there. It got slightly better going inwards towards the city center and most of the businesses but on the outskirts it could be a headache. He moved though and stood taller as his wounds were not fully healed but the force was accelerating the healing energies he was applying to them. Allowing the jedi master to move better by the moment.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra didn't miss the way he angled his head toward her, the subtle shift that made it feel—for a moment—as though those sightless eyes actually saw her. It hit with an unexpected warmth she tried (and failed) to smother, and she ended up focusing hard on the path just to keep her feet under her. His amusement wasn't lost on her either; she could hear it in the shape of his silence more than the sound of his voice.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," she muttered under her breath, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek "Some people write poetry. I…fix and pilot ships."

She followed him through the thickening forest, letting his strange, almost ghostlike footing guide her choices as the shadows thinned and the air shifted from wild earth to the sharp stink of civilization. The first wave of rot and oil made her wrinkle her nose—then cough lightly when she realized he didn't even pause. Of course he wouldn't; a man who wrestled horrors in the dark wasn't going to flinch at bad plumbing.

Still…Maker above, did he have to move like that? Effortless. Balanced. Absolutely lethal and completely unaware of how impressive it looked from behind. She caught herself staring and forced her eyes to the broken stones underfoot, cheeks warming. Focus, Ventor. You're not twelve.

He didn't argue with her earlier rambling about the Starling—didn't tease her, didn't correct her, didn't treat it like an exaggeration or childish obsession. Just listened. Really listened. And somehow that was more disarming than anything he'd done with a lightsaber.

By the time the ruins gave way to the outskirts of the city, Lyra had reined her thoughts back under control—mostly. She let her steps fall in just slightly behind him, not because she needed protection but because it gave her a chance to watch his surroundings the way he watched with the Force. The phrase love him or don't flickered at the back of her mind like an irritating spark, and she shoved it down hard.

The Maker wasn't helping. At all. Not that she had time to unravel whatever cosmic joke that was supposed to be.

"Come on," she finally said, clearing her throat and hoping it hid the swirl of thoughts she had no intention of voicing. "We should get to the port before someone starts wondering if I crashed my ship again." A beat. A small, involuntary smile.

"And before your…uh…very opinionated ship decides to file a second missing person report."

She stepped up beside him again—close enough to match pace, far enough that she didn't accidentally reach for his arm just to feel something solid after the chaos underground.

Maker help her, this man was going to be a problem.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He chuckled at that joke about the ship.. it was a good one as he kept walking and she got closer but he didn't make a movement to startle her. More awareness as he moved into the streets for a moment. Hiss presence making some move to the side but he wasn't rushing them or forcing it. Instead he just was there and a blind miraluka as most would see generally got the right of way. He moved a little though and spoke for Lyra as he was looking towards her. "I do not know which port you are in." He said it but maintained his walk so that she could come around and not be behind him but also have the chance to lead them where they needed to go.

"And we will handle it as it comes, just trust in your instincts." He would have said the force but he knew she didn't want that.. her instincts her intuition and her skills were more then enough for her... plus she now had a wicked blade from the observatory that she could use with her pistol if something happened so there was that.. and the crystal she had gotten from the vaults. All and all she had net positive for all fo the things she needed on her little encounter and trip. The jedi master remained there when he allowed the force to guide them through the crowds but many saw his sabers and stepped out of the way with bows of their heads.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra slipped naturally into step beside him, her shoulder brushing just close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, though she pretended she didn't notice. His easy chuckle lingered in her ears longer than she'd admit, softening something in her chest that had been tight since they'd first dropped into that cavern. She kept her gaze forward as the city swallowed them—noise, bodies, voices, the sharp contrast to the silence of stone and death they had crawled out of.

People moved aside for him. Not out of fear—out of reverence, caution, recognition of something ancient and disciplined that walked with a different gravity. Lyra felt the shift around them, the way the current of the crowd peeled back as if he were the prow of a ship cutting water. It made her straighten a little without thinking, a strange instinct to match the presence beside her.

When he admitted he didn't know which port she used, she huffed a quiet breath through her nose—not annoyance, something nearer to fondness she refused to name. She raised a hand and gestured lightly toward the market rows ahead.

"Follow me. I'm docked in Bay Twelve—east side of the upper platforms."

She led them between vendors, shifting crates of fruit and parts salvaged from ships that probably never survived reentry. The contrast made her more aware of him again: the blind Miraluka striding through chaos without the slightest uncertainty. She stole a glance upward at him, the way people bowed their heads as he passed.

"You know…" she murmured, lowering her voice just enough so only he would hear, "It's a little unfair that you can't see how people look at you."

A beat, then a tiny crooked smile.

"Might boost your ego."

She kept walking before she could regret saying it, boots weaving confidently now that she recognized the path ahead. His reminder to trust her instincts echoed in her mind, and even if she wouldn't admit it out loud, the words settled warmly under her ribs.

"My instincts are fine," she added, softer. "Just…sometimes easier to believe when someone else says it."

She didn't need to look at him to know he'd heard the real meaning beneath the words. She didn't have to say anything about the crystal tucked safely into her jacket, or the blade at her hip, or the way her heartbeat still hadn't fully slowed since he'd kissed her before the fight.

Instead, she led him up the final incline toward the upper platforms, the wind picking up from the sea and pushing strands of blonde hair against her face.

"This way," she said quietly, and this time—without thinking, without planning—her pace eased so that their arms brushed lightly as they walked.

Not enough to be bold. Just enough not to be accidental.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He gave her a bow of his head. With a look though he shrugged. "Would it really help? A jedi with an ego is a dangerous thing. One must be humble and sure rather then do things to receive the praise." He said it while following her but he made sure she had the lead with a nod of his head. "I'll stick with just working with you for the time. Unless there is a dangerous situation then I have nothing major to do here. As... questionable as some things are there is nothing major happening that would need a jedi. Though one could help the local law enforcement more." He said it and made a mental note to himself that he would be able to request it possibly. THe observatory would also need to be monitored in case.

"Lead the way." He followed as the people in the streets continue to give them the path but he offered bows and a more friendly demeanor to some. Others ran around as he could see some of the children playing at jedi with one holding a stick and shouting he was a jedi before chasing down the others... which was inaccurate but he didn't correct them. An interesting moment before he looked at the ports and hangers. He couldn't see the numbers but he was following Lyraa so he was just there to make sure she was getting a good and fair deal no business being a problem while the jedi masterr brought a hand up and made sure his sash was on straight and proper.