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."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra let out a quiet breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup as he spoke. The way he said beauty in just being here and now made something in her chest tighten, not painfully, just… unexpectedly. She wasn't used to people who slowed down. Who looked at the moment instead of past it. Who looked at her with that kind of steady, unhurried focus.

"Most people don't talk like that," she murmured, eyes lifting to him through her lashes. It wasn't teasing. It wasn't even flirtation. It was a wonder with edges she didn't quite know how to file down.

When he stood and rolled his shoulders, her gaze flicked over him before she could stop it — the long, carved lines of muscle shifting under skin that looked too warm, too alive for someone who had walked out of a tomb. The way his presence filled a small room so easily. Maker, she needed to get control of herself.

But then he said I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, and any thought of composure unraveled just a little more. She swallowed, trying for casual and not quite reaching it. "I know," she said quietly. And she did. She didn't know how, but she did.

He moved, stretching, and Lyra straightened a bit too quickly, forcing her mind back onto safer ground—or at least less dangerous ground than the shape of his hands or the memory of his mouth.

"As for those recruiters…" she said, rolling her eyes slightly, trying to pretend her pulse wasn't still running wild beneath her skin. "Yeah. They came knocking. Military academies. Intelligence branches. Private firms with 'confidential opportunities.' They all talked like they already owned me."

She picked up a piece of bread, tearing it slowly between her fingers.

"My mom shut it down before any of them got too close. Said she knew what it was like to have someone decide your future for you. I didn't understand that then."

Her voice softened, more reflective.

"I do now." A small smile, faint but genuine, tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Besides…I didn't want to be some academy's trophy pilot. I just wanted to fly. On my own terms." Her eyes drifted over him again, slower this time, less startled, more deliberate.

"…didn't expect the Force to throw you into the middle of that plan." The honesty slipped out before she could stop it. "But…I'm not complaining."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He gave a nod of his head to that. He understood in a way... not perfectly but. "Not wanting to have your fate decided by another is something many would like to have though for the moment my fate is decided by you." He said it offering a small nod of his head. It was her ship, herr schedule and choice... so he was at her mercy. In a way of course he moved the sabers from his belt and put them within a compartment of the belt for safekeeping. His voice coming out better. "But you chose a path that is your own which I can respect and understand in a way. After the war, things were different. I had lost most of everyone I knew and worse was I didn't feel about it."

He said it more casually and he had said it before. "Though as you can imagine any family I have is... questionable when it comes to being a family." He said that as a joke. "And there are less things on some of the worlds I have been part of. I was trained among the Cathar and one of their warriors but they are highly traditional in ways, the miraluka can be worse at times." He walked. "And you also saw many more things but nothing to hide in some cases. if You should have any questions for me go ahead and ask. I know the visions can be intense or startling but there is always a sense of context to them and perspective."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra didn't move from her seat—she was still half-curled over her plate, fingers idly tracing the rim, the warmth of the meal grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed. She looked up when he spoke, watching the way his voice softened around the edges, the weight of old memories settling into the space between them.

Her throat tightened. "Having someone else decide your fate… yeah." Her voice stayed low, steady. "I know that one too well."

She didn't know why she said it aloud, maybe because he had offered her honesty, and something in her felt obligated—or maybe…willing—to match it.

When he mentioned losing people and not feeling it, something flickered painfully in her chest. Lyra straightened a little, elbows settling on the table, hands folding together to keep them from fidgeting.

"Not feeling anything…" she whispered, eyes lowering to her food. "That scares me more than anything else. I don't ever want to wake up one day and realize I'm just… empty."

The quiet hum of the ship wrapped around them. Four days alone with him—four days of this strange, overwhelming calm he carried like a second atmosphere—and she still felt herself slipping into that ease far too quickly.

She looked up again, meeting the line of his sightless eyes even if he couldn't see her.

"But I don't think you're empty. Not even close." A small breath. "You care. You wouldn't have fought like that if you didn't. You wouldn't be here now."

She hesitated before continuing, chewing the inside of her cheek. "And you wouldn't offer to answer anything I ask unless you meant it."

Only then did she shift slightly, leaning her forearms onto the table, closing a bit more of the distance without leaving her chair. Her voice dropped again—softer, more uncertain.

"Syn…back in the observatory…when our minds touched…" Her fingers tightened together. "I don't even know what I saw. It was more like feeling things that weren't mine. Your strength. Your memories. Something ancient. Something…raw."

A swallow.

"What did you see? What did you mean when you said the visions unsettled me? Because I—" She exhaled slowly. "I don't know what any of it was." But she didn't look away. She wanted the truth—even if she wasn't ready for it.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He looked at her and spoke with a look that managed to be distant and more like he was looking to something else even while blind. "Old memories of times that were great, older friends long since gone and a love. The woman was in ways like you. Stubborn, willing to listen but exceptionally talented. She often had more skill then she knew. A woman I met and at the time may have regarded as just another force sensitive. A woman glimpsed from across seas of sand and star. Facing monsters of teeth and forests of raiders we traveled in vision. One who glimpsed only briefly beyond the wall of mental and force shield." He smiled at the memory as he could see her in the vision.

He said it and it sounded a little full but the visions had brought back thoughts of Iella, not hard, never distant. His voice remained there as he moved a little though and knew he wasn't empty it was just... "With skin as white as the moons of a hundred world and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing as she chased after me and caught me. She wasn't afraid even then a scrawny girl and later when I realized that I and loved her." He said it and it was a strange thing, a foreign concept in some ways that he had had to come to his own terms with. "She turned me from what I was which was just the warrior and the protector into something better, someone willing to listen to them more and help."

The memory was there on the tip of his tongue but he spoke it to her. Kneeling to a position so that he was level with Lyra as his form remained there. "There was Valen, the wind had fallen away the heads of our soldiers hung limp. Ever nearer crept the flesh raiders but they were still a good mile from the base the Republic had fashioned when one of the jedi knights fell gagging a long blade through his neck and the scent of poison on it. We sprang to take our place and braced our feet wide, lifting our heads to the sky. We could see the details of the raiders plainly now. The presence they had in the force was chaotic and dark, but their warriors dancing on the narrow decks of their raiding ships were in full view.

These were painted and plumed you could smell it in the distance once the wind came and mostly naked, brandishing their blade and old blasters. They never wore armor that wasn't the skin of their kills. On the raised platform of the base in the shadows she stood a slim figure whose white skin glistened in dazzling force energies contrasted to the glossy ebon presences about us. Iella." He said the voice with a sense of reverence. He didn't know fully how to explain it as Iella sprang before the raiders, beating down their blades with her saber. She turned toward the jedi master, her bosom heaving, her eyes flashing and presence in the force powerful. The White Dragon she called herself at times and it showed.

Fierce fingers of something caught at his heart. She was slender always, muscled but not built like him... it had been their strength when training together and being master and padawan for missions. Yet formed like a goddess in the force: at once lithe and voluptuous. Her robes were a broad silken robe. Her white ivory limbs and even in the chaos, the rise and fall of her chest beneath sweat-soaked robe struck through the jedi master's pulse, even in the panting fury of a battle. Her rich blonde hair, snow-ivory-silvery white as a star going nova, fell in rippling clusters down her supple back. Her piercing eyes burned on the jedi master as they always did since she had come with him.

"She was as powerful as a force storm, beautiful and dangerous as a cathar she-warrior. She came close to me, heedless of the great battle, dripping with sweat of her exertion and covered in the viscera of the flesh raider warriors." He thought about it and chuckled to himself as she stepped over the corpses, blood-flecked, radiant and pressed his hand to the heat of her thigh. So close she came to the tall jedi. Her red lips parted as she stared up into his face. "She asked me a simple question. Did you miss me master?" More she had demanded the answer. "By all gods of the force, I have never seen one of her like, though I have ranged the seas of this galaxy for near a thousand years from the moons of Nibia to the Antares Maelstrom, and around perdition's flames to the center of the galaxy."

He looked at Lyra as he was speaking it but looked at her now as he spoke both to her and himself. "But you are not her, you are yourself it was just... something an old one might see. She drew things out of me, she asked questions rather then only unloaded her problems upon me. She trusted me, she loved me and I her and lives there upon any world, within any galaxy one such another as I? Lives there another man who could fight his way back and forth across a warlike galaxy, facing savage beasts and hordes of savage men, for the love of a woman? For the potential to only spend a moment with her. Once in a lifetime is rare the idea of twice meeting one so skilled and alluring. I meant what I said a thermodynamic miracle."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra didn't move for several long moments after his voice faded, as if any sudden gesture might disturb something ancient and fragile suspended between them. She hadn't expected a story like that—not the scope of it, not the weight, not the way he spoke of a woman carved out of memory and starlight as though she still illuminated corners of his life he rarely allowed himself to look at. What startled her most, though, wasn't the love he'd once carried; it was the simple fact that he had offered it to her so freely, placing a piece of his past in her hands with the same quiet trust she'd felt when he reached for her in the observatory.

When she finally found her voice, it was gentler than she intended, but steady enough to carry the truth she meant to give back.

"You loved her," she said at last—not as an accusation, or even a question, but as a truth she understood instinctively. The way he spoke had told her everything. And rather than feeling threatened by it, she felt something far more disorienting: reverence. Respect. A softness that didn't belong to jealousy at all.

She drew a slow breath, letting her thoughts settle into something she could shape into words. "I didn't see her like that in the vision…not fully. But I felt something powerful. Something that belonged to you, not to me—something you didn't give away easily."

Her eyes flicked downward, only for a heartbeat, not in insecurity but in acknowledgment of a life so much larger than her own.

"I'm not her. And I'm not trying to be." The admission grounded her, steadied the swirl in her chest. She let her fingers ease forward, brushing lightly against the back of his hand—a touch as tentative as it was deliberate.

"But I'm also not going to pretend I'm overwhelmed just because you lived before I was even a thought in the galaxy. If anything, it just reminds me how little I actually know about the worlds you've seen. You've crossed eras I can hardly imagine, and yet…"

Her breath caught, just slightly, as she lifted her gaze again.

"…you're standing here talking to me like my life matters in that scale of time."

Her thumb traced once across his knuckles—the smallest anchor in a moment that felt far too large.

"What overwhelms me isn't her. It's that you chose to tell me about her at all. You could have guarded that memory, held it where no one could touch it, and I would never have known. Instead, you trusted me with something that shaped you—something that clearly still echoes in you."

Lyra drew in another breath, steadier this time, and let the truth come in a tone softer than she knew she was capable of.

"And I don't know what it means that the Force let me feel any part of that connection… but I know it wasn't meaningless. Not for you. And not for me."

The lights overhead hummed quietly, a soft undertone to her next words.

"I'm not her. I shouldn't be. But I'm here."

Something warmer, something almost vulnerable, flickered in her expression.

"And despite everything I said about wanting to keep the Force out of my life, I can't ignore that it brought me to you — or that some part of me wants to understand you. Not the legend you've lived through. Not the warrior you've had to be."

She swallowed once, gathering the last of her courage.

"…Just you."

A quiet exhale. A truth that felt like stepping onto a precipice with no promise of where the fall would end.

"Even if it's only for four days…I want to know who you are when you're not carrying a galaxy's worth of history on your back."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

He looked at her and nodded silently to her statement. He had loved Iella and always would hard not to but he knew that there was a lifetime and she was one with the force which was a benefit to a jedi. It meant she was always with him as long as he felt the energies but her other thing... was interesting to him "I am not sure that even I know what or who that is. Even without a galaxy it is just something that has always had to be done. To move from labor to labor, to take on what is needed." He said it but nodded while he was there with a smile on his face before rising up slowly and holding a hand out for her.

"Hmm without being the warrior I might be metaphorically naked before you... but it is fair. With you I will not think about some of the things but we shall give you the first thing. To protect your mind from influences of the force. Steady yourself and you must merely think of something solid, something that is protective. A mental barrier is whatever you want to make it and it is taught to many to resist a force user. Even those without the sensitivity." THe jedi master said it but he was offering the chance as well as his arm if she wanted to steady herself to imagine something solid. he knew tactile influence could help in some cases.

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra took his hand almost without thinking, her fingers curling lightly around his as she rose. The moment he mentioned shielding her mind, her eyes flicked upward, searching his face—not afraid, but aware. Curious. Maybe even a little defiant.

"A barrier," she murmured, trying to picture stone or steel or something impressive and Jedi-worthy…but nothing felt right. Nothing felt like hers.

So she closed her eyes. And instantly, instinctively, she was somewhere else.

The cockpit came together around her in clean, familiar lines—switches, gauges, the faint blue glow of the nav-screen. The hum of the Starling's engines vibrated through her ribs, steady as a heartbeat. Every sound in that imagined space belonged to her and her alone. No visions. No ghosts. No unpredictable flickers of the Force.

Just flight.

"I'm…in my ship," she said quietly, breath settling, shoulders loosening. "That's what feels solid. That's where nothing gets in unless I let it."

She opened her eyes again, meeting his sightless ones—the intensity behind them felt no less real.

"Does that count as a shield?" A faint, self-conscious smile tugged at her lip. "Because it's the only place I've ever felt untouchable."

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

"Yes, it is less about what you are thinking about then what it means to you. SOmething solid, something protective, something that clears your mind and bringings it into balance." He said it while he looked around. "A ship, this ship it is yours. It is what makes you feel safe, untouchable. Its mental image is a source of bastion and protection." He said it with a nod of his head. "Once you have it in your mind, make it as solid as you can, the more you can visualize it the better. As you said you know every inch, every weld, every seam and bolt and compartment. Once it is there you hold its memory within your mind. A barrier, a memory."

He said it while he was standing there with a smile on his face though. "Once you can do that you will just need to think about it, use it to protect from the influences of a force user or an area. There are some places that are stronger, the temple of Omean where we are going the nexus there is made as a crucible to the jedi. It exerts intense force pressure on the mind and body so it would be safer for you to stay within the ship." He saaid it but stood there as a more solid wall as only one arm came out to brush her shoulder with a nod of his head. "YOu have this, we'll work on it and with practice you will be able to have it at all times or just when you need it."

 

[Lyra Ventor]

For a long moment, Lyra didn't speak. She just breathed—slow, even, steady—holding the shape of the Starling in her mind exactly the way he told her to.

Every detail rose effortlessly: The faint vibration in the left-side stabilizer. The soft whir of the targeting computer cycling awake. The subtle click of the throttle when it's seated just right. The hum that becomes a purr when she climbs through the atmosphere.

It wasn't imagination. It was memory, muscle, and bone and instinct. It was home.

When his hand brushed her shoulder, her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her voice was quieter when she finally spoke, steadier but touched with the softness of someone letting herself trust something new.

"Yeah…I can do that," she murmured. "It feels real. Solid. Like something I can actually hold onto."

Her fingers twitched at her sides as if they were still wrapped around the yoke.

"A barrier made of something I know better than anything else…" She let out a small, surprised breath—almost a laugh, but gentler. "Makes more sense than I expected."

She shifted, turning toward him more fully, drawn by instinct and something far more dangerous. Her gaze climbed the long line of his throat, over the smooth planes of his chest, up to where the sash wrapped over his sightless eyes—and still he somehow made her feel more seen than anyone ever had.

"And I get why I'll need it." Her lips pressed together, thoughtful, a little tense. "If the place we're headed can… push into someone's head like that? Yeah. I don't want to walk into that unshielded."

A pause stretched between them—warm, charged, quiet.

Then she lifted her hand, hesitating only a fraction before letting her fingertips rest against the back of his offered arm. Not clinging—just…grounding herself in him the way she anchored herself in her ship. A touch meant to steady her thoughts, but instead it sent a bright, startling warmth through her chest.

"Thank you, Syn." The words were soft, sincere, carrying a weight she didn't entirely understand. But she meant them. "I…want to get this right." Her eyes lifted to his again—earnest, vulnerable, open in a way she rarely allowed anyone to see. "For myself. And because you're teaching me."

The silence after that wasn't empty. It was thick with something unspoken, something she had been fighting since the caves—a pull she had buried under fear, adrenaline, denial, and the Maker's terrible timing.

And then…something in her gave way. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled gently against his arm. She rose onto her toes before she even realized she was doing it—drawn forward by instinct, by want, by an ache she didn't have a name for yet.

She kissed him.

Soft at first—tentative, almost questioning—but warm and genuine and wholly hers this time. Not the force of survival or confusion, not a moment stolen in chaos. A choice. A claim. A beginning.

When her lips brushed his, her voice barely existed, a breath shaped into words against his mouth:

"…I want this right, too."

And she kissed him again, slower, deeper, no longer afraid of what she felt.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Lyra Ventor

The jedi master tasted the first kiss like lightning held in check, her hand for a moment had been warmer then he was expecting. The feel of her lips against his, the faint taste of berries and slowly beneath it scents. The blood pumping in ears for a moment as an underlying pulse was there. Coming to his lips within a single moment. The sensation of the nerve endings dancing with the feeling of her so close as his hands found a comfortable place to hold her close. The stillness of his body betrayed by the steady beat of his heart. Letting her feel the coiled power in every unmoving muscle, the low thrum of his pulse beneath her fingertips like a drum beat slowly evening out to match the thrum and beat of the engines ticks... to match her heartbeat.

"Lyra…" The second kiss surprised him. She pressed in again, deeper, surer and the sound that tore from his throat was raw, involuntary, a predator finally loosed. His mouth opened over hers with sudden, ravenous precision, tongue sliding against hers in a slow, deliberate stroke that dragged a small vibration of the force, microscopic but designed, modulated to tease the smallest nerve endings to apply sensation. He tasted berries, he smelled engine grease and the bright scent of sunshine on her skin he drank it like a man too long in the desert. His hands rroving to find placement to hold her steady and raise her up to better meet him.

Then his hand at the small of her back became steel, fingers splaying wide, small claws pricking just enough through fabric of her flightsuit not to tear it but to bunch it up. To remind her exactly what held her so close when he was allowing the force to open between and be less invasive then a constant hum along the length of his body lett her mentally map and feel each curve. He lifted her without effort, pinning her to the bulkhead with the hard metal cold against her shoulder blades, scorching heat of his bare chest searing, branding. Every ridge of muscle shifted under sweat-slick skin as he rolled his shoulder but his hands were there to protect her from being pinned awkwardly and painfully.