Serendipity

[Mirax Eygan]

The sleek disc of midnight-hued, medium-class freighter swooped down toward the bright sphere of one of the most polluted planets in the Territories. It peeled away from the briefly acquired orbit as effortlessly as one might skin a husk of a ripe muja fruit - swift elliptical motion morphing into a beeline trajectory aimed for Eriadu's haze engulfed capital. The captain of the ship was all too familiar with approaching this place and paid it little heed, having the Vee-One pilot droid take over for this final tedious leg of the journey, instead. Vee-One did not mind in the least, immediately plugging himself into the ship's controls. Leaning back in the pilot's chair, the young captain of the ship pulled the chestnut suede fedora over her eyes, kicking her booted feet up onto the front console with easy, careless grace. Gloved hands folded and clasped at the waist, she seemed to take secret delight in this brief respite from her ship duties - ignoring repeated calls to her com-link.

Leave me alone, insatiable bastards. You'll get yours ... as soon as I get mine.

Beside her, Vee-One warbled and bleeped impatiently, signaling their entry into the atmosphere. Mirax ignored it, pretending to snore softly. Had the YT-2550 possessed an eject button that would not suck them both into the vast reaches of space, the Lorrdian would have made very frequent use of it. Might as well - her current gig would easily compensate for a whimsical loss of a droid every now and then - but replacing it required time, the one commodity that Mirax Eygan seemed to be always short of. However annoying the automaton was, it more than made up for it with its efficacy - both standard and modified.

Oh, yes - Mirax did play with it a little - the surgeon in her demanded total satisfaction when it came to collaborating with inorganic creations.

Pretending time stood still, Mirax sank deeper into her bantha-hide bomber jacket and stifled a sigh. Home. How she hated coming back here time and again, but had little choice in the matter: her word was her bond. Plus, it was nice to have a place to stay she could call her own, even if doing so threatened advanced emphysema - or worse. Once, long ago, Jonas Kross took care of her - now she would take care of all that was his. It was really that simple. If only the place did not carry a stench of a decomposing Wampa ... but then again, the whole planet seemed to reek of the same.

"Are we there yet . . . ?"

Its head swiveling abruptly, Vee-One responded with a series of high-pitched bleeps and warbles Mirax took to be an excited affirmative.

"Right. Put her down gently, Vee-One. I just had that landing gear fixed. You mess with it again and I will have you re-assembled into a Gamorrean pleasure toy."

Vee-One emitted a falsetto equivalent of a panicked shriek, wherefore soon after the button for the landing gear was activated as the freighter descended into the Eriadu city starport, below. What a pit of degenerate avarice, Mirax thought, glancing through feline slits at the viewport and onto the exhausting visual of a cityscape scorched by violent industrialization. Too often she had considered relocating, changing her home base to something far less toxic and perhaps a lot more green - but her word was her bond. Maybe one day . . .

Just then, the main communications console flared to life, putting an abrupt end to her dubious reverie. Mirax sat up straight, flicking up the fedora and leaned forward to address the incoming message from the spaceport control tower. As expected, everything checked out; it always did. Meticulous attention to detail - another of her surgeon traits coming in handy in this pathetic (and yet sometimes endearing) line of work.

Moments later the 'Fenix' would touch the ground, and to her great relief - without incident. The Lorrdian wasted little time grabbing the essentials: a worn leather rucksack she always kept under her captain's seat. Tapping a small, thick pouch on her waist, Mirax pursed her lips in satisfaction. Vee-One bleeped expectantly but was told to remain on board. Mirax ignored the automaton's sorrowful warble and headed out of the cockpit, momentarily descending a well-worn boarding ramp. No cargo this time - well, none that was readily visible on her person, anyway. Spirited walk commenced as she took off in the direction of the closest turbolift, whistling a jaunty little tune beneath a haggard fedora before vanishing from sight.

 

[Sol Damerin]

Inhale, exhale, gag.

There were few planets Sol despised more than Eriadu. The entire world was either grey lifeless factories spewing out pollution. Or the fetid disgusting wastes that had once been wilderness that dumping had corrupted beyond repair. He usually took time to explore most worlds that he travelled to even the ones he’d been to before always had new places to explore. When he came to Eriadu though he never left the spaceport.

The only reason he ever wound up on Eriadu was when he failed, which he honestly often did, to check where the ship he was hitching a ride on was going. Most of the time he didn’t really care, it was only when he wound up a place like Eriadu that he regretted his policy of not paying attention to where he was wandering.

The worst part of the planet was he couldn’t even meditate to kill time. Well, that was an exaggeration he could force himself into a meditative state. But the toxic air made it unpleasant even if he was sitting underneath a scrubber. How any people could do this to their own planet was beyond him. More than that, that any sentient being in their right mind would chose to live their was beyond them. At least on say Coruscant the waste disposal system was good enough to keep things relatively clean, at least on the higher levels, even if there wasn’t much natural beauty to enjoy. Eriadu just seemed to have a thin layer of grime over all its public locations.

So he just sat in the terminal legs folded into lotus position watching the screen of incoming and outgoing flights. Waiting for something that was heading out towards a planet that didn’t make him want to retch. So far he hadn’t had much luck but at least he was getting weird looks from everyone else before they averted their eyes. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, he looked like a particularly clean homeless man. Sitting in a public spot, a big bag containing all his worldly positions lying next to him. Someone at one point actually tossed a five credit chit into his lap and he’d twice had to explain to the terminals security that he was waiting for a ship heading to… well first time was Naboo second time he’d said Lothal. Though at this point he’d have settled for Nar Shaddaa.

Sol’s lengthy musing on his current situation and how much he hated it are interrupted when he senses a slight ripple in The Force. A young woman in, well maybe it was cool to the younger crowd but to him the bomber jacket and fedora was, a ridiculous get up. She was the source of the disturbance a Force sensitive for certain, making no attempts to mute her presence. Well, that shouldn’t surprise him not everyone felt the need to hide their presence in The Force like he did.

Pale blues eyes track her for a moment and then he shrugs attention back to the board. Not every meeting with another Force user had to be deliberately orchestrated by The Force right? There were something like one Force sensitive in every thousand sentient beings. Not impossible that two of them happen to be in the same place at the same time for no reason. At least, he hoped so. Because the number of ridiculous events he was interceding in had been taking a sharp upward trend. It was really starting to concern him how his once rather normal mercenary life involved far more situation where he needed to use The Force.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Turning the corner which led to an all-too-familiar hallway which would in turn bring her to the closest turbolift, Mirax got the weirdest sensation. It felt oddly familiar, like deja-vu, or something that she had known or seen, before - and yet it wasn't. Furtive glance swept left and right, but nothing seemed to jump out at her, bringing about an aura of momentary uneasiness. Had she passed by an old acquaintance without noticing? Or maybe it was a stray feline rubbing accidentally against her booted calf that made Mirax think of her favorite childhood blanket - all soft and warm ... and blue? Bah! It was neither of these things and yet it hinted at so much more.

Shrugging, Mirax decided to attribute the delusion to the many fumes engulfing the spaceport within and without. If a platoon of Hutts suddenly relieved themselves in the center of the spaceport, it would not smell any worse. Nope. This was as bad as it got. And there she was, without a gas mask. Her days, bah - hours! on this planet, Mirax thought with visible disgust twisting her delicate features - were numbered. It was imperative that she sought shelter immediately to avoid demise via asphyxiation, and yet - she knew her survival would have to wait.

Business before pleasure. First and foremost.

Stifling a mounting groan, the young woman resumed a direct path toward the turbolift when a rather portly porcine alien rolled into her sideways, knocking her back without warning. It was by sheer clarity of mind that Mirax managed to reach back with her arms, extending her frame a modicum of safety, as her bottom was forced to act as temporary cushion from the impact with the filthy durasteel floor. "Watch where you're going!" she called out, attempting to rise and dust herself off. For his part, the alien appeared rather unperturbed by the whole incident, focused instead, on muttering Huttese curses at a tall, slinky Duros, shaking his fist at him from several meters away. Bloody Ugnaughts, Mirax thought, pulling down her jacket and straightening her fedora which fell forward onto her nose.

Getting back onto her feet presented no challenge - Mirax was rather nimble and quick on her feet - although sometimes, she could still fall victim to an unfortunate surprise. Like this one. Wiping her hands on khaki trousers, the Lorrdian noticed that the two aliens were now gone and she was feeling somewhat lighter. The hell? Her rucksack was still on her back, flap closed and strings tightly drawn. But something was different. Wrong. Slender palm slid to her belt, as she hooked her thumbs upon it . . .

The pouch!

Her face had turned a shade of pale ash as she glanced down to her hip and confirmed her worst fear: the little bag she carried with her everywhere, firmly attached to her belt - was indeed, gone. And she knew exactly how it came about, too - except the culprit had a head start on her already, and she wasn't getting anywhere just standing about, fretting. But which way had he gone?! Only one thing flashed in her head now, as her gaze swung about in mounting agitation - a thought to which she could not help but give voice - and a loud and powerful bellow it was:

"STOP . . . THIEF!'


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

When the woman vanished into the turbolift Sol let out a small sigh of relief. It could happen he could bump into another Force sensitive and have nothing happen. They could be two passing ships at sea with nothing significant needing to occur. It could be just an ordinary everyday thing an utter coinci.... Sol clamped down hard on that thought. He knew there was no such thing as coincidence when it came to The Force. If he thought it was a coincidence then the next thing he knew something would happen.

For example on the floor above someone would start screaming, then there would be the sounds of a chase, and he would try really hard to resist. He would try to ignore what was doubtlessly happening up above. However, there would be a slight niggling in the back of his mind. Just the smallest, most miniscule nudge against his consciousness. A ripple of destiny coming to crash against his mind telling him that he should investigate. He would spend perhaps a few seconds trying to brush it off but the siren call would be too strong and he’d know he had to get involved.

Which is exactly what happened as he gets to his feet. He didn’t feel super great leaving his bag behind but it had a tracker buried in the bottom so even if it was stolen, he’d get it back. Sprinting towards the access ramp he tries to figure out which way the retreating footsteps are coming from. Bounding up it, he comes to the second floor and spots the rapidly retreating Ugnaught as it moves down a corridor. He was just slightly closer than the woman who was calling thief and he goes chasing after the porcine alien.

Perhaps it was xenocist of him, but he didn’t like Ugnaughts. On a scale of aliens, he found unpleasant to look at they rated just under Gamorreans and just above Trandoshans. Not that he thought that they were bad people, just to his human eye they were all kind of repugnant. He honestly wasn’t sure if that made him xenocist, the complexities of how prejudice works against other species were often monstrously complex. After all, when you evolved from utterly different gene pools it wasn’t surprising you found little to like in another species. Though most humans seemed to like the look of Twi’Leks since they were close to human looking…

Now was not the time for this train of thought he had an Ugnaught to catch. The little bastard was fast but Sol was faster thanks to longer legs. However, the Ugnaught was also familiar with the station and was doing a good job of throwing Sol off of his trail by ducking down corridors and into private sectors. To his shame, the only reason Sol was keeping track of the porcine fiend was The Force. Eventually, he manages to close the gap and he slides into a leg sweeping tackle knocking the little thief on his ass. Tearing the pouch from the aliens hands he rolls the little thing away. He wasn’t going to go to the cops he didn’t want to file a report, let the woman the pouch belonged to do that. He turns around and starts tracing his steps back to where he last saw the Force sensitive woman.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Giving chase, Mirax felt the newly risen inner rage fuel her speed. The little bastard was fast, but he was also short, and that gave the Lorrdian a distinct advantage over her target. She might have inadvertently given the stubby alien a head start, but nothing would get in the way of her relentless fury. Her pursuit would not last long - unless he had more accomplices waiting in the wings. Pity this whole place stank like a Wampa's armpit, otherwise she might have been able to smell the little varmint. When the Ugnaught had first impacted against her legs, Mirax could have sworn he gave off a most distinct smell ... one she readily recognized from her many travels. Andris. So the smelly dwarf was a spice addict and likely needed funds to feed his unhealthy habit. Oddly enough, he knew exactly what to go for, when he bumped into her. This indicated that he had either known more about her than she knew of him, or he was simply an expert pickpocket. Knew how to read people, knew exactly where and how they carried their pocket valuables. And that pouch on her belt . . .

Bah, I am such an idiot. I made it all too easy.

Turning a new corner, and the next, and then another . . . Mirax was starting to get confused in the convoluted maze that was the Eriadu City Spaceport. The hallways flashed past with seemingly blinding speed: some narrow, others wide. Like a bloodhound after her prey, the young woman seemed to burst past her surroundings like a Tatooine sandstorm, leaving bewildered and annoyed passers-by in the wake of her mad pursuit. It could not be long now, she thought, attempting to control her breathing. One of them would certainly be out of breath soon. The hallway she was in seemed to narrow abruptly, bringing Mirax into a clean and spacious entrance through which peeked the smooth and shiny silhouettes of medium-sized luxurious looking vessels, the chasses of which Mirax did not recognize.

So this is where the posh half hides their rides ...


The distraction - momentary, such as it was - slowed her only for a moment, allowing the young woman to regain some of the stamina lost in the initial leg of her mad pursuit. Passing between two rows of decadence and prosperity, Mirax noted the back exit ahead, marked with distinct green flashing lights. She headed straight for it, paying the private hangar bay no more heed. Once she cleared the doorway, the Lorrdian noted another turn up ahead, with a stack of crates obscuring its edge and forcing her to alter her approach trajectory. She leaped over the stocky tower of durasteel blocks without giving it much thought, her clearance flawless as she came in for a landing. And then . . .

SPLAT!

There was the thieving Ugnaught, sprawled on the neuranium plated floor. The porcine alien seemed to lay there, motionless - most likely knocked out by some powerful impact. As her head spun from left to right, Mirax saw no sign of the Duros likely complicit in the thieving affair. But there was someone else, too - walking toward her with quiet determination - a human figure she did not recognize.

Such stealth . . . I did not sense him, Mirax thought, her hand sliding down to the blaster waiting in her hip holster. Somewhere, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he was holding a pouch in his hand. Her pouch. Fingers tightened around the blaster handle, and still it remained in her holster - its owner uncertain as to what she should do next. It was easy enough to discharge a weapon - but much harder to accept the consequences of an impulsive (and uninformed) action. Her initial compulsion to pull out the blaster and squeeze the trigger now averted, Mirax eyed the stranger with a seemingly careless, casual glance. And then she saw it - the pouch, her pouch - he was holding it in plain sight, as if he wanted her to see it.

"Who are you?" the Lorrdian spoke at last, straining to retain composure. "I see you have something that belongs to me. I would like to see it returned - what do you want for it?"

The Ugnaught wasn't going anywhere, and so Mirax ignored him for the moment - her full attention vested in the mysterious stranger who gave off the strangest vibe, both unsettling and intriguing the Lorrdian. If they locked eyes for much longer, Mirax feared she would cringe and visibly, too - much to her inner dismay.

Do I know you? And if not, then why does it feel like you know . . . me?


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

Apparently, when Sol had booted the alien away he’d knocked the Ugnaught out. He’d not meant to hit the little porcine man that hard but he also didn’t feel particularly bad about it. If you want to be a thief don’t get caught. That was just one of life’s rules. Like don’t activate your Hyperdrive without plotting in coordinates, or don’t go into a bathroom after a Gamorrean. You obeyed these rules if you wanted to minimize the chances of something really bad happening to you.

Cracking his neck he looks around the area he is in. The floor is actually clean and the ship's here were sleek and expensive looking. Obviously the private docking bays of the rich corporate types who occasionally had to come to this crap hole of a planet. While they certainly paid well Sol never cared much for executives. Self-serving, greedy, and often times borderline sociopathic. People who spent their lives acquiring more money than any single person needed confused and often disgusted him.

Turning he sees that the owner of the pouch. She’d been trailing the entire time but since he’d stopped to catch his breath after knocking out the Ugnaught she’d caught up. Absently dangling the pouch from one hand he approaches her and she starts asking just… Well, they told him quite a bit about her character.

She assumed that someone who went chasing after a thief after she called out attention to said thief was looking to extort her. That told him either that she probably rarely, if ever, acted out of altruism. People tend to expect from others what they themselves would do in a situation. Which meant if she went after a thief she’d been looking to get ahead. That seemed the most likely reality to Sol based on her general demeanour and the fact it was fairly obvious that he’d been walking over to just hand it to her.

There was, of course, the possibility that she’d lived a hard life and just expected extortion from strangers. That she’d grown up in a criminal environment and while not one herself, she expected such behaviour from others because it was all she knew. This possibilities primary distinction being that it painted her core character in a more favourable light. However, he didn’t think it very likely to be the case. Mostly because she was acting like he should know who she was and have some kind of plan of what to ask for. Which meant that she thought in layers of criminal behaviour rather than just at a baseline.

“No one special.” He says by way of introduction meeting her gaze with his pale blue orbs. His expression was utterly blank and gave nothing away, much like his tone of voice. “Just heard you call out and thought I’d lend a hand.” He chucks the pouch at her in an easy, telegraphed, underhanded throw that would make it almost impossible to not catch. “Wasn’t looking for a reward. Just lending a hand.” He shrugs his shoulders and breaks eye contact heading towards the exit.

Throughout the conversation he’d been aware of her growing unease. It was obvious that she could sense something off about him. She was probably Force sensitive enough to feel another’s presence and was noticing he had none. Only two kinds of people had no presence in The Force, the Force dead and Force Wielders who were suppressing their presence. She might not know that either thing was possible and his existence was worrying her. Which was why he normally stayed in crowds where his use of Force Stealth was less obvious. Ah well, at least he’d done his good deed for the day.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Green gaze traced the stranger's furtive glance to the fallen alien. "Oh, I don't think he is dead - at least not unless you want me to kill him? He is relatively young; must have at least a decent liver or a kidney on him that could help out a war orphan or two?" A small grin lifted up her delicate mouth, bringing forth child-like dimples. "I am teasing . . . Look, I am grateful for your assistance. I have a feeling that had it not been for your timely intervention, my livelihood would require an abrupt change. I owe you one. Or ten, if you like? Either way, thank you."

Mirax was not accustomed to long speeches, especially ones that involved piling on gratitude. She caught herself off-guard, going on as she did, and had it not been for the fact that her throat became dry, she probably would have continued on with her discourse.

Swallowing as indistinctly as possible, the Lorrdian stretched out her small gloved palm in the direction of the stranger, waiting to see if he would deposit her pouch without her asking for it again. Her eyes never left his face. And then she felt a sudden compulsion to force out an unlikely introduction. "Mirax Eygan. That is my name. You should tell me yours - especially because it would be nice to know the name of my savior," she smiled still, not knowing why. And then,

"I have some questions. Is there a place we can talk? Somewhere away ... from potential future disasters?" She glanced toward the Ugnaught who was slowly coming to, groaning under his breath. "That is . . . if you are not afraid, of course."

The smile faded, showing her to be in earnest. There was something about this man - and she would know what it was that inspired such disquiet in her, the moment he appeared.


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

Just as he is about to leave the woman, barely more than a girl really, looks down at the ugnaught. Her comment, besides being a slight nonsequitur, is also mildly disturbing. Who the kark talked about harvesting someone's organs as a joke? It was also a rather jarring train of thought to consider killing someone to donate their organs to war orphans. There was probably something wrong with this girl's head. The verbal swarm of weirdly phased gratitude that followed next didn’t exactly do much to change his opinion.

The introduction is met with a bland look. This woman was not right in the head, the question rapidly becoming if she was just a spacer who’d gone a little crazy. Or if she was a legitimate crazy person. “Sol.” He says simply since she’d asked for his name. No real harm in giving her that information though he didn’t feel compelled to share his last name. It wasn’t really important and had little bearing on anything that they were currently doing.

The request for a private conversation was just as awkwardly worded as everything else that the woman had said so far. However, he was willing to entertain this strange girl for a bit longer if no other reason than mild curiosity. At least until she asked him if she was afraid. “Why are you trying to taunt me into doing it with the kind of juvenile banter a youngling would use? That just makes me not want to do it.” Whoever taught this girl social skills needed some serious pointers.

“If you can walk and talk you can say whatever you need to while I go to get my bag.” If she was worried about people listening in that was the best way to avoid it. Hard for someone to eavesdrop on two people moving around a crowded spaceport talking in quiet tones. He continues towards the exit letting her decide if she wanted to push her luck.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Had Mirax been able to tell what Sol was thinking, she would have told him right off the bat that she was no girl and that she had all them proper woman parts - but as it was, she was clueless - save for the poker face and blank glances he continued to cast her way. In a way, she found both to be rather annoying but let the (still) lingering feeling of gratitude win over the urge to act crass or annoyed.

I must not show impatience; he probably already suspects there is something grossly wrong with me.

So she merely accepted his (very) brief introduction with a nod and a smile. Something was better than nothing.

"I am glad to have met you, Sol."

Of course, had he not met her 'invitation' to help satisfy her curiosity with an insult, Mirax would have likely kept her peace longer. As it stood now, he called her a 'youngling' and inquired why she was attempting to provoke the young woman into taking an action that clearly did not lay in his best interest.

Great, he sure gets irked easily. And he hates your sense of humor, so stop - just stop. You can get by without it. Try it his way, maybe?

Mirax was already feeling as if she were trying too hard - and for what, to get some cryptic one word answers that resembled her companion's name? Stifling a groan, she nodded at his offer to keep Sol company while he retrieved his bag. It would do, she nodded in the affirmative and fell in step with the man.

A moment of silence ensued, during which Mirax pondered whether she should just be direct or show some 'adult' sensitivity and hold back a little.

Avarice does not become you, her inner voice pointed out.

Looking deftly ahead, Mirax pondered if he was just humoring her so he could get his bag and make a swift exit. If that was the case, then she better make the best of the time she had.

"There is something going on here that I simply cannot place," the Lorrdian began, her voice quiet yet firm. "I don't recall our paths ever crossing before, yet why does it feel like there is something all too familiar about you, Sol?"


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

The variety of emotions that flickered across her features was rather interesting. Most of him he couldn't quite place but he did get a distinct impression that she wasn't thrilled with his responses. Given that she'd been making an attempt to friendly and grateful, or at least he imagined that was what she was trying to do, his generally emotionless and curt responses were doubtless throwing her off. Of course, he wasn't doing it to be mean. Sol was just generally not a very emotive person. Also as a general rule, he'd found that when someone tries to taunt him into something he wanted to do the opposite just to bother them.

Stil, she takes up his offer to follow him. Despite her suspicion he was trying to ditch her as soon as possible he didn't act like it. He didn't hustle down the corridor forcing her to keep up. He went at an easy pace that would make for easy conversation. While he could be curt in some areas and overwhelmingly blunt in others, he wasn't actually that mean. He'd told the girl they could talk so they could talk. The question she chooses to ask makes him raise and eyebrow though.

The answer to her query was rather obvious to him. Had she sensed him while he was chasing the Ughnaught? Before that he'd been using Force Stealth so she shouldn't have sensed anything at all. Well unless she was hunting for him and was particularly strong or sensitive. However, the phrasing of her question was odd to him. She found him familiar? A weird way to describe what he assumed she was talking about. Then again he'd always believed everyone experienced The Force in a different way. So maybe that was just a reflection of her unique connection.

Now the question was did he answer her question or leave her in the dark? In general, his "secret" wasn't really a secret anymore. While most people wouldn't know him for what he was at a casual glance it was fair to say anyone who did any digging could figure it out now. However, did he want to explain things to her and open up the floodgate of potential questions that might raise? He wasn't sure, thus far the girl had seemed distinctly off but... she didn't seem to mean him any specific harm. "You are Force sensitive. You are probably picking up that I am as well. Though I am probably better trained." Since she'd actually been robbed that seemed very likely.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

"Force-sensitive? You mean that mysterious energy field that causes certain individuals to possess extraordinary natural gifts? I think you must be mistaken; I don't have any special powers - in fact, you just saw what happened. I was knocked on my ass by a very unsightly midget and even had a heck of a time attempting to catch him. N-no, I'm not sure I can buy what you're selling. Moreover, as a scientist, I require some kind of proof that what you are telling me is the truth. Not that I do not trust you, Mister Sol - but frankly, I would prefer to think that you remind me of someone I've read about in a not-so-recent romance holo-novel, and now you are here - larger than life - and I am secretly thrilled."

Mirax stopped talking for a moment, tempted to usher a wink in the man's direction but she stopped herself just in time, realizing that he probably would not take it well. To make things worse, the last things she said could have sent this man running as far as his legs could carry him - given that he did not seem to care for her quirky sense of humor and would likely think her attempting to feed him cheesy pick up lines.

And the way he looked at her - the scant few times he actually did - Mirax thought he regarded her as an odd child in need of much discipline. Well, maybe so, she thought dully - but you don't know me, Sol - and you are assuming an awful lot, judging a book by its cover. In the meantime, she would steal a quick glance to his profile and sighed. "So if there is a training for this sort of thing, there should be some kind of a test to determine Force-sensitivity, correct? If . . . it would not be too much trouble, I would like it very much if you could administer this test - on me. It would do wonders for my peace of mind - as I am sure you have noticed that today has not been going very smoothly for me - and as such, you are not exactly catching me at my best," she informed him, looking away, thinking Sol probably did not care about the latter - he seemed to care about very little, to be honest - although appearances could be deceiving, after all.

Or so she hoped.


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

What was the phrase that applied to this woman? Mirax was talking a mile a minute? Someone needed to update that one no one used miles anymore. Ridiculously archaic turn of phrase but appropriate in this instance. It was actually kind of draining to listen to her rapidly run through her entire train of near-manic thought from start to finish. Still, he supposed everyone handled things differently and it wasn’t like he was utterly immune to being unnecessarily verbose at times. Though he did save that for when talking about philosophy and The Force.

He also didn’t really think much of her sense of humor but Sol was a straight man. He tended not to show big reactions to things instead, keeping a calm demeanor and replying with dry wit. Well, he liked to think of it as dry wit anyway. He supposed his sarcasm and caustic cynicism might go under appreciated. Like pointing out that she'd called him out like a youngling. That had been a joke to point out that they were adults and childish insinuations hardly became them.

When she finally finished by asking if there was a test he nodded. “There is.” A brief pause and then he continues without prompting to be nice. “The clinical way is with a blood test to see if you have midichlorians in your system. They are a bacterial parasite that feeds on Force energy. Force-sensitives have large collections of them in their blood. However, the easiest way is to find a trained Force Sensitive and ask them. If you are strong enough in The Force they can usually tell.” The obvious implication being that he knew what she was talking about and she should just listen to him.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

An awkward silence lingered, as Mirax realized her incessant manner of discourse was likely beginning to grate on Sol's nerves. Still, he showed nothing short of politeness and patience - far more than she had earned thus far, with her audacious and erratic behavior.

As a physician, the young woman was aware of the existence of microscopic organisms known as the midi-chlorians, but she came by the knowledge in passing and even she could not recall specifically when, or why. Either way, awareness was not knowledge, and this man looked to have both. It would be in her best interest to gain such knowledge while he still had the willingness to endure her company - hopefully without vexing him any further.

She could run the necessary blood test herself, perhaps, and not waste his time on the scientific method when Sol was clearly convinced he knew what he was talking about. And not just when it came to her, but it seemed he had an understanding of great many things - probably a product of vast experience she could only dream of possessing.

"So I sensed you as 'familiar' because the Force made it so?"

Oddly enough, the Lorrdian could not recall any other times she had ever felt such a cryptic sensation. Then again, she had this ridiculous capacity to remember everything she had ever read - was that part of the Force, too? Mirax had always considered it to be simply a phenomenon known as photographic memory - but now she was not altogether certain that it was all it was.

"I would like to learn more. I am just not sure where to start," came the sudden admission, the words softly spoken but firm. "Would you help me?"

There was no expectation in her voice - only a barely veiled curiosity of a young woman whose eyes were on the verge of slowly beginning to open.


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

It was less that he possessed vast experience she could only dream of and more he had experience. He'd grown up in the Jedi order he was familiar with matters involving The Force. However, that just meant he had a basis to draw on she didn't but it was something she could learn. There was a finite level of actual knowledge one could have about how such things work. If she spent a decade or so living with the Jedi she'd know about as much as he did. At least about how they worked and general Force knowledge. His more esoteric knowledge might require more time.

"Probably. Either that or the romance novel thing." He notes dryly as they wind slowly back towards the main area of the spaceport. "Help you?" He asks wonder what she thought helping would include. Did she want to be his apprentice? He had one of those, did he need another? No. Could he train another? Yes. Did he want to train another? Probably not, depends on the person. Which he wasn't sure the odd girl was someone he wanted to train since there was still something off about her. But that might be a good reason to help her since she might be swayed to the dark side. Not all Sith were dicks but a large enough percentage are that he was disinclined to see more in the galaxy. Then again, he felt the same way about Jedi. "It's within my power, can't say if I would. Takes time to train an apprentice and I already have one. Not much harder to train another person since you can just sit in on lessons. Give the other a sparring partner closer to their level, but." He shrugs.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

"Sure, whatever you say."

If Sol wanted to make fun of her, it was all the same to Mirax. Not to mention, she set herself up for that one, bringing up holo-novels. He did not seem too thrilled about her inquiry, although it was probably due to the open-ended nature of her question. "Right, forget it. I don't want to be some charity case. You may not realize this, but I am a trained physician and surgeon. I tend to move around a lot, mostly among various places that feature those pro bono scenarios. Anyone that cannot pay - mostly orphaned children and adults who are too poor to scrape together enough money for a daily ration. There are more of them out there than most people realize."

Stealing a furtive glance in Sol's direction, Mirax wondered why destiny put certain people in one's life, and not others. Could she get much out of such haphazard training? Maybe, or maybe not. It really depended on whether she would get the treatment of a backup hyperdrive. Would her training help Mirax aid others more so than her current calling? The question was impossible to answer, especially to a non-trained, ignorant Force-sensitive who could not see even a minute into her future. "In my whole life, I have never done anything half way, and I am not about to start now. If I dedicate myself to this, will you do the same?"

I wonder . . .

Just then, it had occurred to her that Sol could probably read her surface thoughts with relative ease. Not that it mattered. If he truly wanted to know anything about her, all he had to do - was ask.


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

Mind reading was not actually a strong point of Sol's. While some Force users could indeed skim the surface thoughts of another it wasn't in Sol's repertoire. He was, however, not bad at figuring out if someone was lying. The fact that she wasn't lying about helping the needy added another layer of confusion to the young woman. She was a doctor that casually joked about harvesting organs, talked as fast as a Jawa on amphetamines, was Force-sensitive but apparently had no idea how The Force worked, and bantered like someone who never quite grew up. She was doing an excellent job of being confusing. For example from going to forget it, to will Sol dedicate himself to training her wholly.

"If I took you on as an apprentice I'd see you trained properly. I don't leave jobs half done unless they are literally impossible." They finally come back to the main area and he settles down next to his bag. "My decision would probably come down to what you would do with what I taught you." He says simply eying her thoughtfully. "What do you want to do with The Force?" He is aware that she might not have an answer to this question. But getting him a good answer to it was something she'd have to do before he made up his mind. He needed to take a measure of her character and her desires played into that. "What do you want?"

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

A wide-spread grin lit up the woman's delicate features. Was he teasing her? No, that was not in Sol's character - however little she knew of him. Still, his response gave her much pleasure, so much so that she was not willing to hide it. Like a child who had just been handed their favorite candy, Mirax felt like Sol had just made her day - not realizing just what she was walking into. This training would be unlike anything she had ever done, it could very well be her greatest challenge of self. What did she want out of it, he asked her. Did she know?

Stifling a sigh, Mirax bit her lower lip in thought. The truth was - she did not know, specifically. She only knew one thing for sure: she was tired of all this running around, playing a body part snatcher with the galaxy's most notorious criminals. Sooner or later, she would find a slug in her head, or worse. This was not the kind of lifestyle she could keep up with, indefinitely. As they came back to the main area where Sol had left his bag, Mirax watched him pick it up, then finally spoke.

"I want to help people - as I've always done, but not the way I have done it," she murmured, considering his other question. "As for what I want to do with the Force? I honestly don't know. Will it help make me a better surgeon? Will it enable me to save lives in a way that does not require me to practice unorthodox medicine? Finally, will it make me a better person? If the answer to any of those, is yes - than that is what I want - to do good in the Galaxy, but not at the expense of others, even if they happen to be the worst scum to ever grace the known universe."


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

What Sol thought of her answer was hard to tell. No visible change occurred in his facial expression, except, maybe just maybe the faintest smallest upward quirk of the lips. The man The Force had selected to maybe be Mirax's master was an unemotive sort it seemed. Perhaps that wasn't surprising considering his lifestyle. A mercenary couldn't afford to be overly emotional. Though perhaps he was just born that way with muted emotions. Instead of addressing her question he pats the space next time. The wall he was leaning against had more than enough room for her to join him.

Assuming lotus position he speaks to her in that flat tone. "Sit down next to me, sit like how I am." He instructs his patient gaze indicating he wouldn't be answering any questions or repeating himself. Her options were to either walk away now or sit down. Once she has sat down in the same position as him he continues. "Rest your hands on your knees, close your eyes, and relax. Just breath. Focus on breathing and nothing else." Leading the way he closes his own eyes and begins to breath, slowly, deeply.

Inhale, exhale.

Once she is obeying his instructions they just sit together for a long time. This was both a test of her willingness to listen and her patience. Eventually, he would reach out with The Force and gently send a ripple out towards her. His voice comes to her but if he is speaking aloud it certainly doesn't sound like. "Just breath. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Don't reach for it just breath it in. Let The Force flow through you."

Inhale, exhale.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Waiting for some visible signal from Sol, Mirax realized that at that very point she did not care whether her manner (and opinions) offended or pleased the man. She was honest, direct and at times, impulsive. Not the ideal characteristics one sought out in a potential student, but not ones that could not be molded, either. So whether Sol agreed to give her more of his time or not, she had mentally prepared herself for both acceptance -and- rejection of her future goals - as if his opinion did not matter in the least. In truth, it did not matter all that much - not yet. They had only just met. The scratching of surface was slight, though oddly persistent.

It occurred to Mirax that it would be somewhat 'fun' to see what lay beneath Sol's quiet, walled-in demeanor. And it would be one hell of a challenge, from what she observed thus far. That man did not let anyone through, did not let his guard down for a moment. His discipline was admirable - and reminded Mirax of her own, when faced with any surgical procedure. But wait, he was speaking now - and the young woman inwardly chastised herself for letting her mind run on and on like that.

"Apologies."

Crouching down next to him, the Lorrdian assumed a seated position mirroring Sol's.

His instructions were simple, uttered in an emotionless, flat tone - a perfect match to his deadpan face, she thought.

Resting her hands on each knee, Mirax closed her eyes and attempted to relax (after having first made sure her Firegem pouch was safely out of reach and out of sight). She breathed in... then out. In... Out. She did not even realize that he was echoing her movements, so focused she was on her own breathing pattern. Come to think of it, this was actually very . . . soothing. Time flew by as the breathing pattern continued; Mirax giving no thought to what came next. As a surgeon, she was armed with an abundance of patience. That, and Sol did not appear to do anything pointless in the first place. There was likely a very good reason he was having her do this, and she would uncover its purpose in due course.

It surprised her then, and nearly caused Mirax to jolt forward a little - when she felt a sudden ripple of 'something' brush up against her. Was it a thought? A feeling? Mirax could not tell, but it was entirely benign and mild in nature. Was that . . . what the Force felt like, when one was at peace and in harmony with his surroundings? The young woman wanted to ask but forced her curiosity onto a tight leash for the time being, following Sol's instructions with the closest she could come to flawless efficacy.

Inhale. Exhale.


[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

There is actually a measure of surprise in Mirax actually following his instructions. The woman was weird that was obvious. Scattered, erratic, and hard to pin down he could tell. Yet she does as she is asked and sits down next to him. More than that she actually seemed to be capable of calming her roiling nexus of thoughts to something still. At least until he stirs the currents of The Force. That almost has her jumping out of her skin, something he observes with some slight amusement. Still, she manages to stay calm and they continue to breathe.

He sends out more and more ripples into The Force around them, not directed at her but rather to stir the waters. This should, in theory, make it easier for her to sense The Force. Once he feels she can notice the stirrings of the great ocean that he is disturbing he stops. Letting the ripples die down to see if she can find that energy on her own. The goal was for her to feel The Force without his help, like he said to let her touch it let it flow through her and expand her mind to the world around her. Even if it was a shitty world that he probably wouldn't have wanted his first experience on. However, this was the easiest way to prove to her that she had The Force and to see if he could train her.

[member="Mirax Eygan"]