Private Sight Beyond Sight

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

The afternoon rush at Ravelin Spaceport carried a familiar cadence—one Jairdain had come to know intimately during her years living on Bastion. The spaceport was a constant river of movement, its energy flowing through her awareness in subtle, layered currents. Heavy freighters sending vibrations through the floor, the sharp hiss of cooling systems shedding heat, the rhythmic clatter of freight droids on their programmed routes. It was busy, but not overwhelming; structured chaos, tempered by military precision.

Sage trotted beside her, his tiny paws tapping a light, uneven rhythm against the durasteel tiles. The small green fox paused often to nose at grates or the hems of passing travelers, gathering scents that painted the world for him the way the Force did for her. The faint smell of starship fuel, caf from a nearby vendor, and sterile cleanser from maintenance crews all filtered through her senses.

But something new threaded the air today.

An unfamiliar presence—steady, contained, watchful. Not aggressive, but shaped by discipline and a certain hardened quiet. It brushed against her Force-awareness like the edge of a blade held in a still hand. Controlled. Intentional. But not hiding.

This must be the person she had agreed to meet.

She didn't know him. Not in name, not in history. Only that his message had been brief, precise, and carried an undercurrent of purpose. She could work with purpose. Purpose often meant truth, and the Force responded to truth far more readily than to declarations or bravado.

Jairdain stopped near the benches set against the inner windows of Gate Cresh-Seven. She rested one hand lightly against the railing, grounding herself in the soft hum of the spaceport machinery. Sage sat at her feet, tail curling around his haunches as he sniffed curiously at the shift in the air—the sign that her contact had arrived.

Jairdain inclined her head toward the approaching presence, her tone warm but composed.
"Are you Syn?"

She felt the subtle shift as he halted—a compression of the air, the faint rustle of his clothing, the weight of someone turning their attention fully toward her. He was cautious, but not closed. That was a promising start.

"Thank you for meeting with me," she continued, her hands folding gently at her waist. "I wanted to speak because the Force has stirred again around matters… old and unresolved. Something is waking on the edges of known space, and I believe your experience may offer insight I do not have."

She did not push. She did not probe. She extended the truth with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned long ago that the Force guided meetings as surely as it guided destinies.

"I do not know you," she said plainly. "But the current that led to this meeting felt deliberate. And I believe there is something we may uncover together—if you are willing."

Sage chuffed softly, as if echoing the invitation, before settling his head against his paws.

Jairdain tilted her face slightly toward Syn, waiting—not impatiently, but with the calm of a Jedi who understood the value of a moment offered freely.

"Shall we talk?"

Syn

 

[Syn]

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

The world had been a place he was sent to... for well anything really. With the fall of Coruscant and other places across the galaxy changing, going away or altering its stance on many things. He had been sent from the Temple of Omean He arrived with the silence of stone. A Jedi Master, he stood unmoving and a head taller than the guides, immediately drawing the eye. His powerful, bare chest was a study in functional strength, slick with sweat in the humid air. The most striking detail was the tight, charcoal-colored sash that covered the upper half of his face, drawn taut over the space where eyes should have been, leaving only the sharp line of his jaw visible.

This physique was not built for show, but for absolute, relentless purpose; the muscled sections of his chest and the chiseled geography of his abdomen spoke to centuries of physical training. His hands were to the sides slightly, yet the air around them felt charged. He projected an unnatural stillness, his expanse of shoulders squared, his head tilted slightly as if listening to a distant, private conversation on the world. For him, the world was not a spectrum of light and shadow, but a vibrant, flowing tapestry of energy and his mind, unfettered by sight, was utterly immersed in the force. The sound of her voice came to him as he turned to look at her offering a nod of his head.

"We shall."

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

The air shifted before he spoke. Jairdain felt the disturbance as clearly as a wave through tall grass—the subtle displacement of movement from a large, disciplined body; the denser hum of someone who had spent centuries steeped in the Force; the quiet compression of space itself around his aura. Syn's presence was not loud or harsh, but massive, suggesting a life built on relentless discipline and the kind of strength that did not need to be shown to be understood.

She had felt only a hint of him before, but up close, the sensation sharpened: a man carved by purpose, by silence, by a lifetime lived without the need for sight. His Force-signature was wide, heavy at the edges, carrying a kind of ancient steadiness she rarely encountered outside the oldest of Masters. Jairdain inclined her head respectfully, acknowledging not rank, not reputation, but the unmistakable resonance of someone who navigated reality through currents deeper than light.

Sage pressed briefly against her ankle, his small form warm and steady as he, too, assessed the newcomer. The fox's nose twitched once, twice—then he settled at Jairdain's feet with an air of quiet acceptance. Animals rarely needed details; they understood presence more cleanly than most sentients ever could.

Jairdain folded her hands before her, letting her surroundings fall away until only the Force's contours remained—the soft edge of Syn's awareness, the muted hum of the crowd, the distant thrum of landing gear locking into place somewhere deeper in the port. She let the moment breathe for a heartbeat, enough to understand him not as a silhouette or a figure, but as a pattern—precise, deliberate, controlled, and far older than any guide who had escorted him here.

"You walk as one who has carried the Force longer than most worlds remember their own histories," she said gently, her voice warm without being intrusive. "It is an honor to meet you, Syn."

His agreement—We shall—landed between them with the weight of a promise made without embellishment. She felt the firmness in his tone, the certainty that left no room for hesitation.

Jairdain dipped her chin in return. "Then our paths move with purpose."

She stepped forward, her movement fluid, her awareness tuned to the slight press of air that marked the space between them. She could feel how he listened—truly listened—to the environment, the way she did: through vibration, through the thrum of life, through the subtle tensions in the Force that revealed more truth than any pair of eyes ever could.

"There is a transport leaving in twenty minutes," she continued. "A quieter route. It will give us time to speak before we reach our destination."

Her face lifted toward him—not in sight, but in recognition of another who lived by senses most sentients never learned to trust.

"You and I perceive the galaxy differently from others," she said softly. "Perhaps that is why the Force saw fit to bring our steps together now. Whatever lies ahead… we will navigate it by more than sight."

Sage rose, giving a tiny, eager sound as he padded toward the direction of their gate.

Jairdain took a measured breath. "Shall we walk?"

She waited—not for guidance, but for the shared rhythm between two blind Jedi to naturally align—before moving in step beside him, the currents of the Force opening a path neither of them needed eyes to follow.

Syn

 

[Syn]

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

Her presence was different then others. He rarely interacted with other miraluka or blind force users not from avoidance but from... well some were just not that interesting or insightful. He had learned over the centuries the loudest proclaiming wisdom usually had the least useful to share. The jedi master walked as his hands clasped behind his back for a moment. There were his sabers on his hips, in special clips for the pants he had. The protective material flowing into the hardened boots but they stepped quietly even for his large size. THe jedi master would have raised an eyebrow but he was walking with her. The path going somewhere as he wondered what one seeks.. he rarely met just because.

"All paths fork and divide. With each step one takes through life Lady Trio, you make a choice; and every choice determines future paths. However, at the end of ones lifetime of walking you might look back and see only one path stretching out behind you; or look ahead, and see only darkness." He said it with a look but continue. Not with words but with his movement to remain with her here until she spoke more. Her talk about seeing the world the galaxy in similar ways was interesting. "As you say." He was curious and debated it. She didn't have the scent of a miraluka.. they usually overdid it in places to mask whatever phantom scents they were perceiving.

He was using his movement to send out resonating force in his booted and silent steps. Guiding and directing him as he could feel and see the world around him through the force. "Sadly for some there are few who have seen the galaxy as I have... mostly. There were some who came from it but they slept while I was alive to watch it all and learn."