Splinter in the Mind's Eye

[Zak Dymo]

L A E K I A
Oswaft Station

All this Jedi business was absolutely wrecking his study habits.

First it was the whole 'abduction affair', then there was the incident on Elrood, and next thing he knew, he was confusing the Tionese Cluster for the Cronese Mandate.

How he was going to bring his stellar cartography grades up was a problem that the former Sith wasn't certain how to deal with just yet. He couldn't assassinate, rob, cheat, or steal his way out of this one...

...well, actually, he could cheat. But that would be cheating. He was pretty certain these was a passage in the Letter of Xul, the sixteenth son of Kaleesh, of the Prophet M'au-eb -- Nogras light shine upon her -- that spoke about false representations and honest learning.

Plus, even if he did assassinate the teacher, the academy would just bring in a substitute. And then the boy would be right back at square one.

Lashing out with one foot, the blue-skinned 'tween' casually kicked a discarded can across the docking bay. Shuffling through the open hangar, the violet haired youth waited a transport from Voss. A new padawan was outbound to Laekia. A Diathim if R3 had understood the transmission correctly.

There had been corrupted Diathim in the Primeval. Twisted, evil creatures who had embodied the Dark Side of the Force.

It would be interesting to experience what a less aggressive member of their species was like.

The boy could have traveled to Voss -- he could have used a mountain get-a-way to recover from the swift kick in the report card -- but for what this Jedi wanted to learn, Voss was actually the worst place. The population was full of Force Sensitives and the Voss Mystics didn't take kindly to the Silver Jedi just going about town willy-nilly throwing the Force around.

Out here, on the frontiers of space, the average, run-of-the-mill spacer was a little less... refined.

For what they were going to be practicing, that was as good as it gets.

[member="Lahi Te'ala"]​

 

[Lahi Te'ala]

Lahi was dressed in the usual - thick robes, mask, and a cloak to cover her wings, all for the sake of suppressing her natural hypnotism. The transport that left her on the station was nicer than most she took - someone else had chosen to pay for her travel, so she actually road it all the way in to dock at the station this time. It wasn't the furthest trip she'd ever taken, but it was certainly not one she enjoyed the most either - still, there was a reason she was here... and, well, she was going to just deal with boring trips. She'd taken to distracting herself by reading up on the 'Oswaft Station' - a center for learning and research, a very commendable place indeed.

And yet she was going here to learn how to manipulate people's minds even more so than she could already. Some would call this wrong, evil, an invasion of a person's self, a stripping of control - but to Lahi, it was the easiest method to avoid violence. She had seen, briefly, someone trying it, with the mind of a beast. She already knew she would be good at it, something about her nature, she knew she could do it, if she focused, and learned. It would take a master though, and where would she find one, willing to teach her?

She hadn't expected for Boo to find her - she'd heard a little about him, about an odd past that he had, but... she did not care, for someone's past was not their future, and someone seeking to teach her was a welcome sight. And so she departed the hangar, spying the one she was looking for - having looked up a picture of them before hand. Very short, but most people were, the Diathim hurried to them, the only hint to their nature in their glowing eyes as they bowed to [member="Boo Chiyo"], "I apologize if you have waited long, Master." For once, she seemed respectful... but as she kept the bow, she literally started bouncing on her feet, from the giddiness.

 

[Zak Dymo]

She was traveling incognito.

...or, as incognito as you could get in heavy robes and a full face mask.

Well, he supposed it was incognito. Just not very inconspicuous. Even will the full body curtains though, she exhibited a certain poise. A preternatural grace that he'd come to associate with the angels of Iego. Bowing deeply as she approached, the Pantoran youth kept his head low as he greeted the woman. "Padawan Te'ala."

He stayed like that, bowing at the waist with his head down, until she'd addressed him. He'd started to rise back up as she spoke, keeping his eyes downcast in deference to her. Not all species found it pleasing to be looked in the eye, after all. Not even all humans. He'd gotten about halfway back up when she'd dropped the M-bomb.

He suddenly froze.

Master. She'd just said master. She'd just called him 'master'. "No, no, no, no..." the Pantoran blurted aloud. His tongue was almost tripping over itself as he bolted back upright, arms flailing as though trying to wave away any claim to such an august personage as would befit the honorific she'd bestowed upon him.

He could feel his face burning, a magenta color spreading through the otherwise powder blue flesh as he blushed furiously in embarrassment. First at being addressed as such. And then, secondly, for becoming as flustered as he was.

Pausing, the boy just stopped. Deep breath. Start over.

"A Jedi shouldn't call me, 'master,'" the boy explained, raising his amber eyes for just a moment as he spoke before quickly looking down again. "I'm... I'm just some kid."

Who happened to have been trained by the Sith. And the Primeval. Which, by some definitions, took away any claim to childhood innocence and replaced it instead with the title 'war criminal.' "Welcome to Oswaft Station," the boy intoned politely, trying to pick back up at the pleasantries where they'd been de-railed by the Pantoran's reaction to the Diathim no doubt trying to be polite or kind. "It will be my honor to assist with your training, Padawan."

Turning, the boy ushered the robed figure toward the interior of the bustling station. In addition to the Levantine Astronautical Academy, Iswaft Station was a trading post. A port of call. And a neutral territory where various minor powers of the surrounding Wild Space could confer, negotiate, or barter. It made the station a thriving outpost, even this far out toward the Unknown Regions.

"Uhh..." the boy began. There was one minor formality before they began the training which the boy ought to get out of the way. Even still, he hesitated for a moment, as though uncertain of how to address the rancor in the room. "I kinda don't use the Force like you do," the Pantoran remarked, gesturing as though there was more to say... and yet he came up with nothing were that the case. "What I mean is... It's an emotional thing mostly..."

Now he was just making excuses.

Another deep breath. The yellow eyes again came up to gaze upon the Diathim's mask as the boy offered an apology as he said, "I should deeply regret if my use of the Dark Side offends you."

[member="Lahi Te'ala"]​

 

[Lahi Te'ala]

The sudden surprise of [member="Boo Chiyo"] in reaction to the M word seemed to cause the Diathim some distress, as her hands moved through the air - on one hand wanting to comfort the young boy, and on the other confused on what had offended him in the first place. She did have to admit, the flailing, blushing reaction was not something she expected, though it was a rather adorable thing at the same time. Suddenly he was taking deep breaths, and the Diathim couldn't help but give a little giggle in response.

A head tilt was given to Boo, as he claimed he should not be called a master, though the Diathim returned to bowing soon after, "I apologize if offence I caused, though I not find that wisdom is only age or size. But I not offend again, Sir Chiyo." As the station was introduced to her, she gave another smile under her mask, eyes closing slightly as she gave her reply to the young looking boy, "And my honor to learn from you."

As she was ushered further in, her mask did not betray the amazed glances given to the surroundings, as she looked at the glass windows leading into labs, at the advanced equipment, the monitors displaying all kinds of information - both on shipping, on what labs were, and even notable achievements in the past solar cycle. She almost didn't hear Boo start speaking, though after a few moments of 'uh'ing, she looked to him. He was still nervous, it seemed, but he had something to say, and she did not mind listening, at least.

What was spoken of was not what she expected, though the full gamut of emotions was not shown due to her mask - hesitance, happiness, fear, a mix of emotions that passed as quickly as they came, ending with the Diathim lifting a hand to undo her mask, a soft gentle smile on her glowing face, as she looked down at Boo, "While not-approve, am not Master, am sure know risks, and accept. I not offended, long as not hurt others with dark feeling."

 

[Zak Dymo]

Sir Chiyo?

He was eleven. Or was it twelve now? Growing up homeless in the shanty towns of Coruscant's sewers, no one had really kept up with the Pantoran's birth certificate. Assuming he had one. "Boo," the boy suggested, with a nod in deference to the padawan's polite demeanor. "Just... Boo."

He would have liked to have agreed with the sentiments which she expressed toward the Dark Side of the Force; however, one thing which Boo had accepted was the need to do what must be done. During the fight to liberate Theo Heavenshield and the other Silver Younglings, he'd murdered a Gamorrean -- a create three times his size -- with his bare hands. And he'd been able to do it, because he accepted the reality that he was already damned.

But, on to the topic at hand.

As the pair emerged into the station proper, the boy began speaking of the matter for which she'd traveled all this way as they walked. "Mind Trick isn't an ability you can learn in a temple," the youth prefaced, as the pair ventured through the shops and promenade of the station's bustling market sector. "It doesn't work on Jedi, for one." That pretty much removed the possibility of practicing it around one of the Jedi Temples. "And it's kind of a practice-makes-perfect sort of thing," the boy added, almost as an after thought.

Actually, he never really thought of how or why or what he used the ability for. "But, it's great for avoiding confrontation," he mused, as he steered the Diathim into what appeared to be a Holovid theater. As the pair stood in line, he continued the conversation, saying, "Sith assassins use it for a variety of things." Getting information from a contact. Supplying mis-information for a target. Memory wiping a target. Controlling a target. Where was he going with this? He had a point. "...like, infiltration!"

With that said, the queue had progressed to where the Pantoran now stood in front of a rather heavy-set Ortolan behind the ticket counter. Slapping a credit cube down on the counter, the boy slid the credits toward the man as he declared, "One chit for Murder Slasher 9, please!" Over head, the holographic advert for Murder Slasher 9: The Backstabbing was clearly marked as Restricted - Adults 18+ Only.

A stubby, dark blue digit flicked the credit cube back toward the boy. "Beat it, kid," the Ortolan snapped, motioning toward the robed Diathim as he mistook her for the next in line.

Catching the projectile credits, the Pantoran kept his hand raised as he palmed the small cube, extended out his index and middle finger, and moved his hand from left to right as he said, "I'm not a kid."

The manipulation of the Force, the plucking of the heartstrings that invisibly connected the youngling to the Force, and the Ortolan to the Force, and through the Force the Pantoran to the Ortolan, would be the same for both Sith and Jedi. The only difference was in the invocation of the Force itself. The aura around the blue skinned boy was cold. Lahi might have imagined the smell of blood, or felt a sliver of the fear, pain, anguish, or anger that had become nestled within a small boy left to perish beside a flowing river of human waste.

The Ortolan paused for a moment, looking down at the boy. Then repeated, "You're not a kid."

"I'm clearly eighteen with a glandular problem," the boy stated, with another arc of his hand.

Again, the Ortolan echoed back what the boy had said. "You're clearly eighteen with a glandular problem."

Slapping down the credit cube, the boy slid the device toward the Ortolan. "Enjoy the film."

Taking the credit cube, the Ortolan processed the transaction. A moment later, the cube and a ticket to the adult holovid were passed back to the Pantoran. "Enjoy the film!"

Smiling up to the salesman, the boy took back his credit cube and the offered ticket. Turning back toward the Diathim, the boy gave a nod of his head to indicate their departure from the theater. As they strolled out, the boy casually flicked the movie ticket over for her to catch. "The hand thing's just... well... sleight of hand," he explained.

Why did they do the hand thing anyway? "Some people say it's a way of making sure the mark's attention is on you," falling back on his earlier training as a thief and pickpocket. Mark, not target. "Some say it distracts their mind, making them easier to, you know... receive suggestion."

As they again strolled through the shops, the boy looked over to the woman to see what questions she may have as to what she'd observed.

[member="Lahi Te'ala"]​