Private A Quiet Pull

[Lyra Ventor]

For a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.

Maker above, four days. Four days with him saying things like that. Four days with him, touching her as if she were something worth tracing by memory.

Her fingers curled reflexively where his hand had just been, the warmth of it lingering against her skin like the faintest imprint of heat. She should have stepped back. She should have put distance between them before she did something reckless—but all she managed was a shallow exhale and a half-second of staring at his mouth again like some starstruck idiot.

Her voice came out softer than she intended, wrapped in something unsteady and wholly involuntary:

"You…really don't hold back, do you?"

She tried to sound teasing. Tried. It came out more like breath, trying to anchor itself.

His compliment—all of your beauty…every inch—hit her like a blow she wasn't braced for, leaving her pulse fluttering in her throat and a shakiness in her knees she refused to acknowledge. No one had ever spoken to her like that—not without an angle, not without a line attached, not with this strange, disarming sincerity that made her feel seen in a way she wasn't prepared for.

When he loosened his hold, she didn't pull away immediately. Her hand lingered against his for an extra second, not enough to be obvious, just long enough to give away far more than she wanted.

Finally, she exhaled and stepped back a careful half-pace, trying to gather enough distance to think again.

"…Food sounds good," she managed, pushing her hair behind her ear as if that would help her regain any composure at all.
"Better than nutrient paste. Better than, uh…Whatever I was doing before, I completely lost my mind just now."

She swallowed, her gaze dipping once—traitorously—to the scars on his torso before snapping back up.

"And for the record…You don't have to try that hard to be memorable," she added, quieter, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "I'm… not going to forget this."

Her pulse jumped again, hot and insistent.

"…Or you."

She didn't wait for the consequences of admitting that—she turned toward the small galley, pretending she had complete command of her heartbeat, her thoughts, and her suddenly very unstable ability to walk in a straight line.

But the faint, breathless smile tugging at her lips gave her away completely.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He looked at her with a small nod and shrug of his shoulders. "Time is a capricious thing. To spend a lifetime wanting to speak and tell the small things to a person. I have learned that it is less about the grand gestures, it is the ups and the downs." He said it and removed from his belt the compartments for the food and water. Opening them up as the cubes were there for a moment but he slid out plasteel slips for the food and applied the water to it. "I can promise that I will never forget you Lyra." SHe not forgetting him was something he could take away from this and it seemed the good kind of impression. He worked on the food as the water was reconstituting it into a piece of grilled white meat. The coating on it as he worked reacting with the water and air to heat it throughout. More water for several of the sides and the jedi master held it at the read on the tableafter some time of working.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra lingered near the galley threshold for a moment, just watching him move.

It wasn't the strength — she'd already seen that, felt it, been nearly overwhelmed by it hours ago. It was something else entirely. The way he handled even the simplest task with a kind of deliberate care that made her chest tighten unexpectedly. A man like him could have torn starship doors off their hinges and crushed durasteel with those hands — yet he measured water into ration packs as if he were afraid of bruising them.

Her heart squeezed in a way she didn't have the language for.

When he spoke of time — capricious, fleeting, made of small moments — something fluttered low and warm behind her ribs as if the Maker had reached out and flicked her emotions like a tuning fork.

And then he said he would never forget her.

The breath she pulled in stuttered. She didn't let it show on her face, but it caught in her anyway, lodging somewhere between her throat and the part of her that had tried very hard not to want this.

She stepped closer, slowly, trying not to look as uncertain as she felt, though the heat rising to her cheeks probably betrayed her no matter how steady her steps were. Her eyes dropped to the food as the ration cubes blossomed back into something resembling real meals — steam rising, the aroma surprisingly comforting in the small space — but she felt him more than she smelled anything.

Her voice came quieter than she expected when she finally spoke:

"You… really shouldn't say things like that so easily."

A small breath of a laugh escaped her, soft, self-conscious.

"You make it sound simple. Like remembering someone is as easy as… breathing."

Her hand brushed the back of the nearest chair before she slipped into it, grounding herself in the familiar metal beneath her fingers. Her pulse had steadied, but only barely.

She watched him set the tray down, watched the faint curl of steam rise between them, and something in her eased — not wholly, but enough that her shoulders unknotted.

"I don't think I've ever had a Jedi cook for me before," she said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Or… anyone like you."

Her gaze lifted, meeting the place where his eyes would have been. She didn't look away.

"I… meant what I said earlier," she added more softly, fingers curling around the edge of the tray.
"About not forgetting you. That wasn't just the… adrenaline talking."

A breath, slow and steady.

"Whatever this is, whatever happens after four days is long enough to mean something."

Her cheeks heated again, but she didn't run from it this time.

"And I'm not going to pretend it doesn't."

She picked up one of the heated portions, more for grounding than hunger, then glanced back to him with a quiet, earnest softness she didn't let many people see.

"So come sit. Before you make me flustered enough to burn myself on this."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

"Shouldn't you." He said it as a small and simple reply to her first thing.. she said it so easily and yet he knew in a way she wanted to say something... maybe not exactly but she wanted to say something. He offered a small soft smile in a moment though as the food was there and she waas sitting down. "Remembering is one's prerogative to speak and recall utter truths that no one else will." He slipped into the seat across from her though with the food and was setting it up so that she would be able to have it to herself with a moment. The food was hot and he tore a small piece of it to eat with a nod of his head. TO show it was all good before hearing her about the time.

"To see the universe in a ship, eternity in a day. Depending on how it is lived four days could be more then enough or it could lead to more. Deep down I do have some buried hope of you will become a student of mine. Travel the galaxy and come to help others for a cause greater then most will ever know." He said it more casually, a thought, a fleeting notion or a potential way but he wasn't making it sound like a burden of choice or the wrong path not to choose it. Instead he was putting it there before taking a small bite of food and offering a bow of his head. "I'll think I shall be grateful to have made an impression upon you."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra blinked at him slowly, the word student landing with far more impact than he probably intended. Student. Not companion. Not…whatever she had let herself imagine after the cockpit and the kiss and the way he had touched her like she was something precious.

Her pulse fluttered in her throat before she locked it down, lowering her eyes to the steaming food set in front of her. She didn't flinch away from him—she just let the moment settle, quiet and warm and uncomfortable in ways she didn't know how to articulate.

She picked up a piece of the meal, letting the warmth seep into her fingers before taking a bite.

It was good. Better than good, actually—real seasoning, real texture, not the chalky nutrient bricks she'd eaten on jobs before. Her brows lifted in faint surprise, and a small hum escaped before she could stop it.

"…this is really good," she admitted softly, leaning back a little, letting the flavors cut through the mess of thoughts in her chest.

But the word still echoed there. Student. Her fingers tapped once against the table, restless, thoughtful.

"I don't know if I'm…that," she said at last, her voice quieter, more careful than before. "You talk about helping people and traveling the galaxy like it's something people are born ready for."

She hesitated, eyes tracing the lines of his face—the strength, the calm, the centuries of weight he carried without ever bending beneath it.

"I'm nineteen. Half the time, I barely know what I'm doing when I wake up." She took another bite—slower this time, grounding herself.

"I'm not saying no. I'm just…trying to understand." A small breath. "After everything that happened down there…You really think I could be your student?"

A beat. Her voice softened, a confession slipping through before she could catch it: "…even after kissing you?"

She looked down quickly, cheeks warming, pretending to focus on her food but absolutely listening for his answer. Maker help her—she was in so far over her head.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

"I think, you could be much more. A student learns yes but after everything you have learned more about me and you have learned a great deal about the galaxy already... more then many others have. More then most companions who travel together at times. Some would imply a greater intimacy but I will call it something else in a way. The mental bridge we formed in the observatory was something strong and it seemed to unnerve you. I would teach you to shield your thoughts to prevent it more then I would say you just have to pick up a lightsaber and travel around saving the galaxy." He offered her another look though while holding one hand out with his fingers out.

"Do not mistake my wording Lyra, there is more I would seek if given the chance. I am just looking to give you the chance to adjust and adapt." He said it more matter of then anything and it held no judgment. She said it herself she was nineteen and didn't always know what she was going to do when she woke up. He didn't see the power or benefit of suddenly plying her with a massive weight of anything. He remained there but offered a small nod of his head. "Whatever comes, our time together whether four days, a lifetime there will be much to it. The prospect of one beginning her life while being with one who has been around longer then most." He rarely brought age into it but he could see a perspective that she was in the dawning as it were of her own life.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra froze at the touch of his words before she froze at the touch of his hand — or the offer of it. Something in her chest tightened, not painfully but sharply, like a snapped line suddenly pulled taut.

More than a student.
More than a companion.
Something unnamed, something he refused to rush, something he was giving her space to understand at her own pace.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

Her fingers hovered above the plate, forgotten. She let her gaze lift slowly toward him, searching his sightless eyes — or what lay beneath them — for any hint that this was some misunderstanding she'd invented out of hope.

But no.
He meant every word.
And somehow that steadied her more than it should have.

"You… really see that in me?" she asked, voice dropping into something quiet and painfully earnest.
"More than just a pilot who got lucky a few times? More than some girl who happened to be standing in the wrong place when a cave tried to kill her?"

Her breath wavered at the mention of the mental bridge — the raw, terrifying, intimate sensation of someone else inside her thoughts. She swallowed once, her eyes dropping to her hands.

"It didn't just unnerve me," she admitted softly.
"It felt like… like you saw parts of me no one else ever has. Parts I don't even have names for."

Her fingers curled in her lap, and she took a steadying breath.

"So when you say you want to teach me to protect my mind… that means more than you think."

She hesitated, then finally, hesitantly, reached out — her fingertips brushing the top of his offered hand. Not fully taking it. Just… testing the shape of the moment.

When he spoke of more, of not burdening her, of letting her grow and choose her pace, something warm and frightened unfurled in her chest, nineteen suddenly felt much younger — but it also felt bigger, somehow, like the future had more room than she ever dared consider.

"I don't know what I'm ready for," she whispered.
"But I know what I want."

She glanced up — and this time, she didn't look away.

"I want these four days."
A beat.
"All of them. With you."

Another breath, shaky but sure.

"And after that… maybe I decide I want more. Maybe you decide you do, too."

Her fingertips turned, lightly hooking over his knuckles — the tiniest but clearest acceptance.

"But for now?"

She exhaled, a soft, fragile smile tugging at her lips.

"For now I just… want to be close to you. Without the galaxy trying to tear us apart every five seconds."

A pause.

Then, quieter:

"Is that… enough for you?"

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He gave her a nod of his head, small, faint and almost imperceptible but he made it so she would be able to see it. The smile remaining on his face though as he spoke. "That would be more then enough Lyra." He said it with a small chuckle. "It is interesting, it took millions of years for the worlds to populate but they can be snuffed out within mere second. Nine months to create a new life but a fraction of that to end it. You have seen what I can do with barely an hour in a fight, heard it, felt it. Imagine what I can do with four days, the motivation to never forget and nothing trying to kill us?" He said it with a look on his face more a promise then humor before he took another bite of food.

There wasn't a need to elaborate, she had said the most important part she wanted to see so he would give her his all and a time she would never forget. The first part was of course the food... he had it all ready and it was steaming, hot and ready. He was eating some as the water soaked to puff bread up that could be used to soak up the juices of the meat. The jedi master took another bite as he adjusted the compartments on the belt to produce the smaller flavored milks that they had for the field. He offered one of the bottles. "There is always more, the jedi engineers have worked on self replenishing ration and hydration technologies so we don't have to carry around a lot of equipment."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra paused with a piece of bread halfway to her mouth, his words slipping through that fragile space between humor and something far more dangerous. Four days. Four days with a Jedi who kissed like that and spoke like that and looked at her as if she were something he meant to memorize.

Maker above. She was in trouble. She didn't let the thought surface—didn't dare—but she felt the heat crawl up her neck anyway.

"You make it sound like I should be worried," she murmured, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the faintest smile. It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't defiance. It was something else—soft, startled, like she wasn't sure she deserved the weight of his attention but wasn't ready to turn away from it either.

She accepted the bottle from him, her fingers brushing his palm—a small contact, accidental but electric all the same. The ship hummed around them, a steady, comforting pulse of engines and life support, but he felt like the room's center of gravity. Everything quieted around him. Even the Force, whatever faint threads she kept pretending she didn't feel, seemed to settle into a low, soothing current.

She took a drink, letting the warmth of the meal linger before setting the cup down.

"I didn't expect you to…care about making this memorable," she admitted after a moment, eyes dropping to her plate as if the food were somehow safer to look at than him. "Most people get what they want out of a pilot and move on."

Her voice softened, losing its usual edge.

"You're…different. And I don't really know what to do with that."

She pushed a bit of bread through the juices on her plate, thinking, steadying herself with the repetitive motion.

"But the food's good," she added quietly, as if that admission were somehow intimate. "Really good. Better than anything I've had on long runs."

A breath. Then a softer confession, barely above a whisper: "And four days doesn't sound nearly as long as it did a few hours ago."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

"Most people just want to go to what is next. I have time to wait and enjoy the moment. To see the beauty in just being here and now." He said it but her surprise had seemed... well surprising as the jedi master just looked towards her and offered a nod. "And I wouldn't say worried, prepared sure, limber yes but worried never. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you." Now he got to finish a little of the food. "And I am glad that you like the food, I'll make you more later if you want unless there is something distracting." He said the last while he rose up but turned to only roll his shoulders. THey had plenty of time and he would learn what he could and do things at her pace. "So after your heroic efforts as a teenager, you must have been wanted by some of the top groups in the galaxy to fight off such threats."