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Audren's watch had been quiet. There were no galactic atrocities announced, no natural catastrophes occurring, not even a finance analyst bursting in and claiming that a new production line would swamp the company only to later find that his program had dropped some decimal places. Erm. No, this time was just him and K'narik.
The time was not wasted. He spent some of it examining the outer cocoon both mentally and through the Force. Some was spent in meditation - actual meditation - which he didn't get to do quite as often as he would like. Through it all part of his attention remained on the Mist Weaver. And some of her attention was on him; he could sense her amusement at his thoughts about the quiet. Yet most of the time was spent practicing what had been taught...this was much required. It was simple enough for him to make a weave but that would help him materialize anything, so he started from the beginning. Individual strands of Force energy were brought together and twisted to become a cord; this was done slowly and deliberately rather than by rote at the speed of thought. Try as he might though, he just couldn't figure out how they were to become corporeal.
Like this.
The voice in his head was not his own. It was the first he'd "heard" K'narik, as she'd spoken with Khefiir's voice prior. With the words came a thought however...a perspective. The difference between tangible and intangible. Light crawled in thin air and became a thread held up by will. Then a second one. Then a patch of woven threads. These all carried no particular properties, they just were. He could imagine how a greedy salesperson would want to get their hands on a skill like this, but at that thought he sensed the Weaver's immediate disapproval. He responded with a sense of dismissal, a mental hand wave. He was not that kind of person and had no intention of teaching this skill - or any - to such a person. He barely understood it himself after all. HIs thoughts turned towards pulling the sense of a place into the threads. This place seemed like the best, and before long the piece of flimsi he'd brought with him bore a crude image of the obelisk and carried with it a sense of age, but also of durability and ancient power. Who would have thought a piece of flimsi would contain a sense of durability and power.
When the time came, the Sephi was in attendance with the rest. At least one - a Padawan it appeared - cried, but this was a part of life and K'narik had lived a full one. She'd spent her last days teaching, passing on esoteric skills that had been lost for countless ages. It was worthy of respect and he offered that in spades. A solemn time also though, one that culminated in both her and the encapsulating cocoon disappearing: becoming one with the Force. Did all mist-woven works do the same? Such would explain why others had never been found. One more thought - one more lesson to take with them.
The time was not wasted. He spent some of it examining the outer cocoon both mentally and through the Force. Some was spent in meditation - actual meditation - which he didn't get to do quite as often as he would like. Through it all part of his attention remained on the Mist Weaver. And some of her attention was on him; he could sense her amusement at his thoughts about the quiet. Yet most of the time was spent practicing what had been taught...this was much required. It was simple enough for him to make a weave but that would help him materialize anything, so he started from the beginning. Individual strands of Force energy were brought together and twisted to become a cord; this was done slowly and deliberately rather than by rote at the speed of thought. Try as he might though, he just couldn't figure out how they were to become corporeal.
Like this.
The voice in his head was not his own. It was the first he'd "heard" K'narik, as she'd spoken with Khefiir's voice prior. With the words came a thought however...a perspective. The difference between tangible and intangible. Light crawled in thin air and became a thread held up by will. Then a second one. Then a patch of woven threads. These all carried no particular properties, they just were. He could imagine how a greedy salesperson would want to get their hands on a skill like this, but at that thought he sensed the Weaver's immediate disapproval. He responded with a sense of dismissal, a mental hand wave. He was not that kind of person and had no intention of teaching this skill - or any - to such a person. He barely understood it himself after all. HIs thoughts turned towards pulling the sense of a place into the threads. This place seemed like the best, and before long the piece of flimsi he'd brought with him bore a crude image of the obelisk and carried with it a sense of age, but also of durability and ancient power. Who would have thought a piece of flimsi would contain a sense of durability and power.
When the time came, the Sephi was in attendance with the rest. At least one - a Padawan it appeared - cried, but this was a part of life and K'narik had lived a full one. She'd spent her last days teaching, passing on esoteric skills that had been lost for countless ages. It was worthy of respect and he offered that in spades. A solemn time also though, one that culminated in both her and the encapsulating cocoon disappearing: becoming one with the Force. Did all mist-woven works do the same? Such would explain why others had never been found. One more thought - one more lesson to take with them.