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Unveiling the Unseen

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
Three hours. Three painful, annoying, god-forbidden hours to find a suitable doctor for her latest research wound. This city-planet seriously needed some serious revising on what was excellent city planning and what wasn't. Shifting her bags and her pitiful cloak, Xeni entered the building and walked to the receptionist.

"May I help you, Miss," the young woman's voice rang out. A quick movement of Xeni's hands and the receptionist nodded. "I see. Do you have some sort of identification?" She rummaged through her bag and pulled out both her ID and money card. "Thank you."

Clacking and beeps proceeded the exchange until the woman handed her back the items. "May I ask what exactly happened to your arm?" A grimace manifested Xeni's face. Another movement of her hands. 'Gizka. Vile little things.'

The woman was visibly attempting not to laugh at Xeni's facial expression. "I-i see. You can go right in, Miss Kraylu." She nooded and made her way through the doors to the back hallways. Note to self: They are NOT even remotely cute.

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@[member="Sarge Potteiger"] : I hope this is good enough. I hate opening posts.
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
Eryn's practice was fairly busy... when it was open, and her time to devote to his bloodwork was limited. Not that bloodwork took too long, but he figured she was probably looking for every disease and its mother in his blood, trying to find out what exactly was wrong with it. But, with little to do while he waited and little desire to hang around her apartment the entire time, he'd taken to cleaning up around the office.

And that's about the time he stepped out into the hallway, brushing at some dirt that had gotten on his shirt. Sarge was a quiet man, in just about every possible way. He spoke fairly quietly, he walked without making much noise, and often he was damn near invisible. Which might explain why he hurriedly took a step back, avoiding the impact of a woman with a blindfold on who seemed to be a sight more than miffed about something.

Maybe she'd missed her time of the month.

"You alright?", he asks, not even realizing that as he was Force-dead, she literally had zero clue he was there. She didn't look too sick, but he could smell blood, so she'd cut herself somewhere.

@[member="Xeni Kraylu"]
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
"You alright?"

Xeni yelped, pushed again the wall behind her, and stilled immediately, her mind on survival mode. Calm down. It's just a doctor's office... She calmed slightly at the thought, her breathing still heavy from the scare. Silence. Had she missed someone in the hallway? Impossible. It was a hallway. She slowly turned to where the voice might have come from only to be met with the translucent wall. Another inspection around. No one. And that certainly did not sound like a droid. Or, if it was, it had her envy for that incredibly convincing voicebox.

She brushed back her chestnut hair, hoping perhaps it would reveal some individual but to no avail. She tilted her head and pointed to her left arm that she had attempted to bandage, which was far from acceptable. She then began signing to inquire which door lead to the doctor's room with her right hand towards no one in particular. Hopefully, whatever the thing was, it hadn't run off and she wasn't signing crazily to the wall. Though that would be of some relief to her to know that her eyesight wasn't going bad.

-----
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
"Whoa." He extended his hands momentarily as she started as if by that simple gesture, he could placate her from being any more jumpy. Eyes traveling downward, he spotted the bandage and exhaled what amounted to a sigh. Figures. "Right. Well, I ain't a doctor, but I can stitch it up once we get it sterilized, if you haven't already."

Slowly, he reached out to take a light grip on her wrist, peering intently at the bandage as if to ascertain how big the wound was. His fingers and hands were calloused, and he realized perhaps a second too late that she was likely going to jump yet again.

@[member="Xeni Kraylu"]
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
She was somewhat surprised when she heard the voice again. So there was a droid. And the lucky thing has an excellent voicebox. She considered its proposition. Well, if it is here in the office, it probably knew what to do. Xeni just wanted the ordeal over with. Damn Gizka. She consented to the idea.

Just as she was about to reveal her wound, rough hands gently grabbed her wrists. Her blood ran cold. Those were human (or Near Human) hands. Very warm, living hands. Without thinking, she went to grab whatever was in front of her. Incidentally, grabbing a shirt (she hoped). She then moved her hand up until it touched the person's cheek. What the-?! Her head went into overdrive. There was nothing there. She saw nothing. Yet, she moved her hand back to the one on her wrist. No delusion here.

She felt a pulse. It was living. Confusion racked her head. It couldn't possibly be...? No. They were close to this form but still different. Her eyebrows furrowed. This may not be as safe as she assumed. '

Of course, a trip to a doctor's could never be simple in any context, could it?
------
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
And just like that, he felt the tug of her hand on his shirt and found a hand moving up to touch at his cheek - and she'd feel the vaguely soft hair of the thick beard that Sarge habitually kept on his face. This was probably the only time that a woman grabbed him in such ways and physical relations weren't to ensue.

The black slip of cloth hiding her eyes did little to disguise the shock that was written in every sudden movement, every shocked twitch of her lips as she seemingly struggled to understand what was going on. "Are you... OK?", he asks quietly, not moving her hands or attempting to move her either.

Better to let her puzzle this one out on her own, he imagined.

@[member="Xeni Kraylu"]
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
Of course she wasn't ok! Didn't the daft thing know she had difficulty seeing it? Gently prying her hands from his, she rummaged in her bag for her datapad. She would have preferred telepathy, but you now, you need a visible target for that. Finally pulling out the device, she fumbled with the pen 'til she had it right-side up. Scritch, scratch. She hoped that her writing was evenly spaced and legible to the stranger, but it was really the only form of communication since sign language seemed to fly over his head. She finished her message and showed her datapad to whatever was in front of her. She clumsily moved her hair out of her face once again, the feathery feeling tickling her cheek.

Not to be rude, but. . . What exactly are you?*

The only thing that came to mind that was living and Forceless was something that was quite impossible to find here in the city-planet. Especially concerning their recent history of destruction. Surely, this was just an excellently built droid. Or was there something else out there on the same level as them? That piqued her curiosity. Was she missing out on more than just droids in her travels? Some sort of wondrous sight that escapes her? That was a saddening and frightening thought. Nonetheless, she really, really hoped that this being continued being a somewhat kind existence, or this could get ugly.
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@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
The man found her actions curious, but then again she found him curious, so things balanced out on some level. So it was apparent, now, that she was mute on top of being blind. A Miraluka, perhaps, but he'd never actually met one. There was the slightest of pauses as he read what she wrote... and then a faint, amused chuckle.

"I'm a human.", he says, as though it was the most clear answer in the world.

"Or rather, 95% human, give or take a little." How much percentage did the Vong fighting claws in his forearm take up? Or the tizowyrm in his ear? He wasn't entirely sure.

And then, after much more time than it ever should have took... the lightbulb went off. "RIGHT!", he says with a snap of his fingers and a bit of a laugh. "I'm Force-Dead. Don't mind me none."

@[member="Xeni Kraylu"]
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
She paused as his answer sunk in. Which answered practically fething nothing. Only that she now knew why she couldn't see him. He was indeed Forceless. But the rest of it made absolutely no sense. Mostly human? A cyborg or a robotic limb? Even then he'd have some Force exuding, just more blurry than the rest. A Forceless human? How did that combo even exist? And that's saying something considering even the dead have some Force. Dead things. Dead. Things. A moment's silence as her face transitioned through different stages of confusion. His small, soft laughs did nothing to soothe her over-worked brain.

She finally conceded defeat and began to write on her datapad once again. This is winding up to be quite a headache of visit to get a simple wound treated. Perhaps a vacation is in order? A mirthless chuckle. The Jal Shey rest? That's a new concept. She held up the datapad in her left hand to the man again with a soft sigh.

I-i see. You mentioned something about mending my wound?*

She gestured to her arm before slowly unraveling the bandage, two cuts being moderately deep were revealed. The exposure made the cut sting slightly and tingle, which made her wince slightly. She still couldn't believe how she got the cuts, but Life did like to make a silly fool out of her from time to time.
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@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
He felt his eyes widen a bit at her still apparent confusion, and for once he was truly placed into an awkward, extremely self conscious position. To this woman, who knew nothing but the Force... he was an absolute freak. Most saw him as an abnormality, but nothing too strange.

But to her...? Too her, he was practically anathema to her very existence. To say he didn't like the feeling was putting it lightly.

Chewing his lower lip for a moment as she exposed the wound, and then he nodded.

Right, can't see.

"Here, come in here. I'll take care of this." She'd gotten this far, so she could see on some level, which meant she'd see him open a nearby door and know to follow him in... even if she couldn't actually see him. "Just take a seat, I'll find some disinfectant just in case you've not already cleaned it, and then I'll stitch it up for you."

It would be a pretty quick procedure, although it'd probably hurt. And so he began hunting around the examination room, opening various cabinets to find what he was looking for.
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
The atmosphere around Xeni darkened before calming once more. Did she do or say something wrong? She mentally reviewed what had happened and concluded that it was probably her frazzled nerves.

"Here, come in here. I'll take care of this," the man instructed, a nearby door opening up suddenly. She paused before returning to reality and putting away her datapad, slowly followed the invisible being in. Her more cheery side began to show as she sat down and waited. The man, while his existence was a mystery, was not only being helpful but quite polite. Thus, her wariness had been soothed.

Upon hearing the word 'stitch', Xeni sort of grimaced and made a small groan. Mind you, she didn't mind needles, but still. She avoided such things being used on her. A resigned sigh. T'was her punishment for doing something as incompetent as approach a herd of gizkas with her equipment. Thankfully, her cloak was the main object of their frenzy, seeing as it now attached shreds of fabric than an actual cloak.
Her thoughts returned to the man in her vicinity. Her curiosity began to burn.

She had nothing against those who were Forceless. Maybe because she rarely met anything that was. But if he is mainly human... She pursed her lips together as she scolded herself for being nosy about someone else's personal life. All she need to know was that he could stitch and that he meant no harm. Still...
-------
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
"I saw that.", he retorts dryly, referring to her grimace. Naturally, he'd heard the groan too, but she couldn't tell when he was looking at her or not, so he figured he'd at least have some fun with it. Finding some disinfectant and a needle and thread, he turned and began walking towards.

How strange it must look, to see a floating, disembodied bottle and needle with thread moving towards you. Curious, curious, curious.

Still, he was thankful this was a typical examination room with one of those annoying plastic sheets covering the table. "Extend your arm, please, and lay back on the table. It'll help." He did his best to keep his voice, quiet, soothing, but he knew for a fact his voice had long since been affected by how much whiskey he'd drunk.

Raspy was probably the best word, and he wasn't quite sure how soothing that would ever be.

Regardless, he looked around for a chair and pulled it up next to her. He'd wait for her to be situated before he did anything.

@[member="Xeni Kraylu"]
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
"I saw that."

Xeni paused and snickered. I guess I am being a tad bit silly right now... But what did he expect? She doubted people actually liked being stitched up like some doll. Seeing the bottle and and needle, Xeni tried to 'size' up the being in front of her. Since he was human, she could at least construct a basic shape. He certainly wasn't fat as far as she felt from when she frantically grabbed from before. But not.. lanky... Based on where the bottle was, she assumed the man was taller than her. Much taller.

Good gracious, were humans birthing giants now? She then began to draw some sort of face. She felt hair on the cheek beforehand. So a hearty beard. Slowly, she was building an image of a strong, built human male. But it did not quell her curiosity. After all, it was all imagination. And it could be so very (disastrously) wrong.

She laid down on the uncomfortable table and outstretched her arm, preparing her nerves for the inevitable sting of the disinfectant. Then the needle. She should be used to this. She's probably had enough bruises and cuts to last her lifetime. The silence between the two was only growing more evident since she couldn't quite use the datapad, and she's already crossed out her other two options of communication. Unless he could read lips. . . Her lips twitched into a smirk imagining how silly that'd look to outsiders.

--------
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
Sitting himself onto the chair next to her, she'd feel a hand touch her forearm to straighten it out. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a cotton ball and dabbed the disinfectant on it. Slowly, the man began to hum a faint tune to himself, and if she knew of music, it would have roughly been in the key of C Major.

As he worked, he repeated the tune to himself - C, F, G, A minor, F - over and over, and sure enough the light pressure of the cotton was overshadowed by the sting of the alcohol burning away at any of the germs left in there. Slowly, he touched the sphere along her wounds, moving methodically as he did so, ensuring he got everything cleaned well enough.

They weren't very deep wounds, so it didn't take much, but he'd rather be careful than risk her getting an infection. Wetting his lips, he found the needle and thread - dissolvable, thankfully - and she'd feel the sharp pain of his fingers pinching the wounds closed. Then came the first of the punctures.

"What are you smirking about...", he asks quietly, sewing shut her injuries.
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
Rough hands once again gently straightened her arm. She tensed but for a split second. Invisible human hands won over invisible driod hands any day in her book. The chair groaned under imaginary weight and a cotton ball came to life. Half of her had childish wonder in this sight, the other half was utterly baffled. But those thoughts were soon cut off with a tune and sting of disinfectant.

Her right hand gripped the side of the table as she sucked in air, trying not to be a complete wuss. Why did Nature make her a natural klutz despite her kind being quite agile? The next few minutes were followed by stings, lip biting, and her listening to the tune he hummed. It was a good distraction, and his voiced rumbled in a soothing way. She attempted to seem interested in what he was doing. But, she was probably not anywhere near to looking towards him, so Xeni opted to examining her wounds. Thankfully, the cuts did not seem lethal. However, they did need stitching. Just her luck. He pinched and pierced her skin with the needle, eliciting a hiss from her. Ow! Hello there! Less pain, more fixing please! Obviously, the man didn't hear, though it was probably good for her sake that he didn't.

"What are you smirking about...?"

Eh? What was she smirking about? Oh, right, her silly images. She hesitated. Well, she could try lip-reading but she really doubted that it would work. She had to think though. How did words form again? Slowly, but surely she was able to form a coherent sentence.

Silly things. Like this.

Another pause before she took another chance.

. . . Your name?

-----
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
Through it all, she did a fairly good job of maintaining her composure, despite the obvious pain he was putting her in. Smirking a bit to himself as he tied off the stitching on her second wound, he looked up in time to catch her lips moving the second time. Reading lips was, in fact, one of his skills.

He needed it when he was out of earshot, or looking at a potential target through the scope of his rifle. Knowing who to shoot by what people were saying to them was often all you had to go off of.

A faint inhale of consternation would tell her all she needed to know about his view on people knowing his name.

"I don't really have one.", he concedes, patting her forearm lightly now that he was done while being mindful not to touch her stitching. "I've been known by nicknames since I became a teenager, pretty much. Just call me Preacher."
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
Preacher? She raised an eyebrow, but remained 'silent'. If that's what he wanted to be called, she would oblige. It was better than calling him 'Thingy' or 'Mr. Person.' He patted her arm and she gently sat up to examine the stitching. It was itchy, but it was pretty good work. Relief spread and formed a smile. She carefully stood up from the table, attempting to judge where exactly he was as to not trip. Thankfully, she only slightly bumped into what she guessed was his foot and gracefully hopped over it.

Standing in the middle of the room, Xeni tested out her left arm. She moved it up, down, and all around. The cuts did not open back up. The procedure went successfully. Now she just had to restrain herself from scratching at it. She turned her attention to the chair and smiled, giving a thumbs up to the man.

Is there anything else I need to know, Dr. Preacher? Xeni mouthed, happy that she no longer had to drag out the datapad to communicate. No one has ever told her that her writing was horrible, but it was pretty obvious by the numerous miscommunications over the years that it was sorely far from the best. The thought made somewhat sad, but at least it was only her handwriting giving her self-esteem issues. She had heard of worse.

Her mind slowly trudged back to her previous thoughts about what made the man Forceless, and it nagged at her. But it would be rude of her to ask such things, wouldn't it? A small twitch in the nose as she hid her disappointment. Sometimes Xeni wished social conventions and consideration were not so... abstract. Especially when they deviated her from satisfying her thirst for knowledge. But, today was a day that Xeni would abide by whatever silly notion society concocted to not offend the man in front of her.
-----------
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
She'd bumped his foot alright, but he'd not cared much. It was something he should have expected and didn't bother him like it normally would, if only because he realized he couldn't fault her for not seeing him. When something was out of your control like it, it was one of the worst feelings in the world to be blamed for it.

"Like I said...", he begins, beginning to put away the supplies he'd used. "I'm not a doctor. Don't even work here. But the Doc was doin' bloodwork for me and I've been helpin' out around the place while I wait for it to get done."

Yeah, technically what he'd just done was illegal, but he'd had the training for it, obviously, so it was whatever. It was only malpractice if you screwed up, and Sarge was known to avoid doing just that like it was his job.

Still, something seemed to nag at her. "Everything uh, alright? You seem occupied with something."
 

Xeni Kraylu

Indiana Jones
Writer
Xeni snapped back to reality as Preacher spoke. She shrugged at his confession. As long as you can do it properly, I have no qualms about your lack of 'qualifications'. Though... She paused. She had an idea. A silly one, but one that would give him some form in her vision. Untying her tattered cloak, she held it out for him to take. Mind putting this on?

It was an item that her fellow Jal Shey tinkered with for her, and had helped in the study of Miraluka vision. The cloth was ever so slighty fused with traces (just traces) of the Force. Thus, giving it a blurry shape of it's own. Mind you, regular people are not naked in her vision, but the Force that exudes from people give shape to the clothing they wear. Perhaps if he put it on, Xeni could at least know where he's at for now. She was determined to find out why he was unseen by her, whether it was rude or not.

And do you perhaps mind me asking a few questions that may or may not be personal? It seems odd that a human is invisible to us Miraluka. Xeni indicated, though she remembered the he stated he was mostly human. Preacher seemed like a person would be willing to answer a fe- She hadn't told him her name. What a dingbat she was! Oh, I apologize! I'm being rude. The name is Xeni. Xeni Kraylu. She held out her hand for a shake.

-------
@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
 

Sarge Potteiger

Half-Glimpsed Dreamings
Character
This wasn't the first cloak Sarge had ever worn; in fact, he was known for wearing a cloak of his own - one made from photoreactive fibers. It allowed him to blend in nearly seamlessly with his environment, but that had no effect on her, of course... and the cloak itself was still in Eryn's apartment.

Nodding, he took the cloak and wrapped it around his broad shoulders, putting it on with the familiarity of a man who rarely was without a cloak of his own. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine why she wanted him to put it on, but he'd humor her at least. "Ask away; I can't guarentee you'll get an answer for some, however."

He was notoriously private about his personal information, but he'd answer questions when asked. There were, however, simply some things that were off limit; like his name.

If, however, in some way the cloak were to provide her vision of him, she'd find a long-torsoed man standing in front of her. Possessed of broad shoulders, his torso ended in short legs that were more akin to tree trunks than anything else.
 
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