Private Where Control Slips

[Lumiya Dara]

The shift in the wreck came just before she reached the opening. Not a collapse. But settling. Lumiya felt it through the frame beneath her feet, through the subtle change in pressure along the metal that no longer threatened to give way quite so sharply. The structure wasn’t just being held now, it was being guided into rest. She didn’t question it. She used it.

The light met her again as she stepped through the breach, the last survivor held carefully in her arms. Her movements remained measured, deliberate, every step chosen with care as she carried them clear of the hull and into the open air. Only once she had lowered them beside the others; gentle, precise, ensuring their position would not worsen what had already been endured, only then did she allow herself to pause. A breath was taken. It was small and controlled. Then she looked back. The wreck no longer felt like something about to fail. It felt….contained. Cradled, just as he shaped it. The sharp edge of urgency that had driven every movement until now began, slowly, to ease.

“They’re all out,” Lumiya said softly. Not loudly. Not as an announcement. Just truth, offered into the space between them.

Her gaze lifted then, finding him as he moved closer. Not with her eyes alone; but with that same quiet awareness that had guided her through the wreck. The pressure of what he held was unmistakable now, not overwhelming, but vast in a way she did not try to measure. “You held it,” she added, quieter still. Not surprise. Not praise. But recognition.

Her hands remained where they were for a moment longer, adjusting the position of the last survivor, checking their breath, grounding them with a light, steady touch before finally withdrawing. Only then did she rise. The motion was unhurried, though the weight of what had just passed lingered in the slight delay between intention and movement. When she stood fully, there was a faint sway that was barely there; but she steadied it with a slow inhale.

His words reached her then. You have done good. Lumiya didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted - not away from him, but past him - for just a moment. To the survivors. To the wreck. To the canyon that had nearly taken all of them. Then it returned. “…they’re alive,” she said softly. It wasn’t a deflection. It was what mattered most.

A small pause followed before she added, more quietly still: “That’s enough.” Her hands came together loosely in front of her, fingers still, as though uncertain what to do now that there was nothing immediate left to hold. “…we should treat them,” Lumiya continued, her voice regaining that gentle, practical steadiness. “Before anything else.” It was not urgency. Nor fear. It was just the next step. And this time she didn’t hesitate to take it.

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

She spoke and was able to move finally. With the safest ones there now as he let the ship go to focus on the survivors. Finding a place to kneel before he was moving. Her small sway had him moving to aid her but he didn't grab her as much as remain there and hold her up if she needed it. She moved though and spoke as he bowed his head. "I am not much of a healer, I am better at striking things but I do know how to transfer enough force energy to keep a team going when we are in combat." He said it but he was drawing from the living force and the power of the world itself as he channeled it itno his hand offering the energy as it rippled along his palm and forearm. "I am also skilled with direction for using it as needed."

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The absence came the moment he released the wreck. Not abrupt. Not jarring. But noticeable. The pressure that had filled the space; steady, immense, and unwavering, receded into something quieter. The ship remained where it had been set, settled now into the sand as though it had always intended to rest there. Lumiya felt the difference. And adjusted.

Her attention did not return to the wreck. It remained where it belonged now; on the living. She had already begun moving between them when he spoke again, her hands finding purpose without needing to search for it. A dressing secured here. A position corrected there. Small things. Necessary things.

When he knelt nearby, she glanced toward him. Not fully, but enough to acknowledge his presence without breaking the rhythm of what she was doing. His words settled easily. Not as explanation. But as truth.

“That helps,” Lumiya said softly. There was no hesitation. No uncertainty. Her gaze shifted briefly to his hand as the energy gathered there. Not with awe, not with confusion; but with quiet understanding. She didn’t try to measure it. Didn’t try to match it. She simply made space for it.

“There,” she added gently, guiding his attention. Not with command, but with quiet precision, as her hand hovered over one of the more fragile survivors. “This one.” Her fingers rested lightly against the patient’s shoulder, grounding her before she continued. “She's fading,” Lumiya said, her voice lowering, steady but soft enough to hold calm rather than urgency. “Not from injury alone. She's slipping.” A small pause followed as she looked up at him properly this time. Not asking. But trusting. “If you can steady her,” she continued, “I can do the rest.”

Her hand remained where it was, her touch light but unwavering as she anchored the patient in place; her presence already working in the quiet ways she knew best. Breath. Stillness. Reassurance. “You don’t need to force it,” she added, softer still, as though sensing the scale he was accustomed to. “Just….keep her here.”

Her gaze flickered briefly to the others; spread along the sand, injured but alive, fragile but holding, before returning to the one beneath her hand. Then, without waiting, she began. Not dramatically. Not visibly. But with that same quiet, careful intent that had carried them this far. And for the first time since the crash the work shifted from surviving to healing.

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He gave a nod as she was directing him towards the one. THe jedi master looked down and spoke for a moment. "Focus on me." He said it to the woman laying there and his hand was guided down as he pushed and focused on the force going into her. He breathed in and then outwards, the energy going along her body and he would see it in his senses as he controlled where. The muscle and sinew, bone and blood vessels to improve much of it. He could channel more and more into her body to help it stabilize and repair itself. He understood the basic idea for when he accelerated his own healing after combat. Sometimes during but he also used that because he needed to keep going. "Stay with us."

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The shift was subtle. But it was there. Lumiya felt it beneath her hands before she saw it in the woman’s breath; the way it steadied, just slightly. The way the fragile thread she had been holding no longer felt like it might slip free at any moment. She didn’t interrupt him. Didn’t redirect. She simply followed where he created space. Her touch adjusted, fingers light against the woman’s shoulder and collarbone, guiding without pressure as the body beneath her responded; not fully, not healed, but no longer falling. “…That’s it,” Lumiya murmured softly, her voice low and even, meant to anchor rather than stir. “Stay with him. Just like that.”

Her eyes remained on the patient, but her awareness widened just enough to include him; not measuring what he was doing, but aligning with it. Where his strength reinforced, she refined. Where his energy stabilized, she softened the strain it left behind.

The woman’s breath caught once. Then settled. It was not strong. But it was present.

Lumiya exhaled slowly. “…She’s holding,” she said quietly. It was not spoken relief. Not yet. But something steadier. Her hands shifted then, transitioning without pause into what came next; securing, supporting, easing the body back into something it could maintain without constant intervention. “You can ease off,” she added gently, not looking up this time. “I’ve got her.” There was no dismissal in her tone. Only trust returned. Her movements remained careful as she continued; adjusting the angle of the woman’s position, reinforcing where needed, ensuring that what had just been given wouldn’t be lost the moment it wasn’t actively held. Only when she was certain did she allow her hands to still. Just for a moment.

Then her gaze lifted. Not far. Just enough to take in the others. Alive. All of them. A quiet breath followed. “…Thank you,” Lumiya said softly. Not as formality. Not as habit. But as acknowledgment. A small pause settled between them before she spoke again, her voice returning to that gentle, practical cadence that carried her forward. “We’ve stabilized what we can,” she said. “But they won’t hold like this for long. Not without proper care.” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the dunes, toward the direction the danger had come from - and might still return from - before settling again. “We need a signal,” she added quietly. “Something that can be found.” It was not urgency. Nor fear. Just the next truth. “And we’ll have to keep them alive until it is.”

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He eased back a little and remained there as she spoke. "A signal." He said it and gave a nod of his head. One hand going to his belt as he slipped out the emergency beacon. "My ship, Alema can get here quickly, we have some medical bays though not certain how many it can hold. It usually it only taking care of me." He said it with a look on her face though while he was bringing the force to himself and sending it back out to the others around himself. He could push the force into them with the guidance she had given and focused himself. 'Alema' He said it into the force for his ship to get it to feel him, the force spirit tied to it something he had communed with for nearly a decade and it hunted him any other time.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The word lingered between them for a moment. Signal. Lumiya’s gaze followed the movement of his hand as the beacon emerged, small against everything that had just happened. For the first time since the crash, something inside her eased. Not safety, not yet; but direction. Something beyond simply enduring the next moment. “A ship…” she repeated softly, almost to herself.

Her attention lifted again as he spoke of it; of medical bays, of reaching them quickly. The faint exhaustion still resting beneath her composure did not vanish, but it shifted into something steadier. More manageable. “That’s enough,” Lumiya said gently. “They don’t need comfort right now. Just time.” Her gaze moved across the survivors once more; the rise and fall of breathing, the uneven stillness of injured bodies resting against sand and fractured metal. Alive. Fragile. But alive.

When his focus turned inward again; toward something unseen yet familiar to him, Lumiya felt the change in the air around him. Not dramatic. Not violent. Just connection. Ancient and quiet in a way she did not fully understand, but instinctively respected. She didn’t interrupt it. Instead, she moved among the survivors once more, settling blankets from abandoned emergency kits beneath heads and shoulders, checking dressings, adjusting limbs so injuries would not worsen while they waited. Her hands had regained their rhythm now; no longer driven by immediate panic, but by sustained care.

Only after a few moments did she speak again, her voice softer beneath the hum of the desert wind. “How long?” she asked quietly. Her gaze drifted briefly upward toward the dunes glowing beneath the lowering suns before returning to him. “If your ship can reach us before night fully settles,” Lumiya continued, “then I think they’ll make it.” A small pause followed before she added more quietly still: “And so will we.”

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He gave her a look as he nodded. "The Alema should be able to be here quickly." He said it while staying there and set the beacon down. The signal going out and the voice coming. "I have your signal master Syn." The small display showing the vague figure of a woman, something simple but the spirit of the ship preferred something closer to her original form. "We need a pick up and medical space." He said it but only looked at the jedi who was there with him. The figure seemed to be looking. "Did you hurt yourself again?" It asked but the ship was small and fast, designed to get around. "I have your location, moving in just don't die or disappear."

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The voice startled her. Not visibly. Not dramatically. But enough that her hands paused where they rested against one of the blankets she had just adjusted. Lumiya’s gaze shifted toward the small display, her expression softening into something quieter and more openly curious than it had been in some time. She did not interrupt. She simply listened as the exchange unfolded between Syn and the presence within the beacon.

The concern in the woman’s voice lingered in the air afterward in a way Lumiya had not expected. Did you hurt yourself again? Something about it felt strangely familiar. Not the words themselves. But the shape of them. The ease. The care hidden inside exasperation.

When the figure announced she was on her way, Lumiya released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Then we have time,” she said softly. It was not certainty. But enough hope to stand on.

Her gaze drifted upward briefly toward the lip of the nearest dune, where the light had begun to soften into the long amber tones of approaching evening. The desert no longer felt endless in the same way it had before. Still dangerous. Still exposed. But no longer isolating. The ship was coming.

Her attention returned to Syn then, lingering for a quiet moment as though reassessing him in light of what she had just witnessed. The connection between them - man and vessel, presence and response - was unlike anything she had encountered before. Yet there was something unexpectedly gentle within it. “…She cares about you,” Lumiya observed softly. The words were not teasing. Nor probing. Just quietly sincere.

A small pause followed before she lowered herself carefully beside one of the injured again, resuming the work of tending dressings and checking breathing with that same patient steadiness. “We’ll keep them stable until she arrives,” she continued gently. “After that, we can move the worst injuries first.” Her hands adjusted the edge of a blanket beneath a survivor’s head before she glanced once more toward the beacon. “And perhaps,” she added, quieter still, “we can all stop trying quite so hard not to collapse.”

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He gave her a nod and look to that. "She and I have a... something. She was a student before the sith and afterward she bonded with the ship because she was scared. " He said it but was there as she looked at the girl and spoke only moving enough to offer her a look. "We will be fine, I am Syn a jedi master within the temple." He said it while he was looking her over and able to check on a lot more. He offered a hand to her again. "But rest yourself. I can draw on enough of the force to sustain them until Alema arrives." He said it when he was looking at the others but found himself in a place, meditating with the force wrapped around himself and them pushed outwards into the people to sustain them.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Lumiya listened quietly as he spoke of her. Not just the ship. The woman within it. The fear. The bond that had remained afterward. There was no judgment in her expression. No visible surprise either. Only a kind of thoughtful stillness, as though she understood instinctively that some connections were formed not in peace, but in survival. “…Then she trusted you,” Lumiya said softly. The observation was simple. Gentle. But sincere.

Her gaze lingered briefly on the beacon before returning to the survivors gathered around them. The desert wind moved softly through the sands now, no longer carrying blasterfire or collapsing metal; only heat slowly surrendering to evening.

When he introduced himself fully, Lumiya looked back toward him again. “Lumiya,” she answered quietly. Nothing more. No title accompanied it. No rank or formal introduction. Just her name offered plainly, as though that alone was enough to stand beside his.

Her attention shifted to the hand he offered. For a moment, she seemed ready to refuse on instinct alone; not out of distrust, but habit. The ingrained tendency to remain moving, remain useful, remain the one tending rather than the one being tended to. But the moment passed.

Slowly, carefully, Lumiya accepted the offered hand and allowed herself to lower beside him instead of immediately rising again. The movement revealed more of her exhaustion than she likely intended; the slight delay in her balance, the quiet heaviness settling into her shoulders once she stopped forcing herself onward. Still, even seated, her attention drifted toward the injured first. Only after confirming they remained stable beneath the quiet field of strength he maintained did she finally allow herself a slower breath.

“You make it sound very simple,” she murmured softly after a moment. There was the faintest trace of warmth in the words now; not quite humor, but close enough to brush against it. “Sustaining an entire group through sheer will.” Her gaze shifted briefly toward him again, thoughtful and calm. “I don’t think most people could do what you’re doing.”

A small silence settled afterward. Not uncomfortable. Just tired. Then, quieter still, as the last light stretched long across the sand: “…Thank you for staying.”

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

"I have had.... many years of practice." He said it and saying centuries for generating and maintaining the force itself. That his robes were still using the limiters that were there. Still holding him back like many of the other jedi that were within the temple of Omean. He said it though while looking at her with a nod of his head. "Lumiya." A good name, no rank but that was fine as the ship could be felt in the force. THe sleek black hull and the crystal dome in the center of it when it was landing and opening an airlock at the bottom. The ship hovering there as it looked like a tower but the jedi master was moving with the force and cushioning several so he could lift them suspended in the air and held together as he was walking. His words coming out while he moved. "A jedi's force of will is important, it requires one to not be limited in their application and resolved with what and who they aare."

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The ship’s arrival drew Lumiya’s gaze upward immediately. Not because of it's size or presence; but because it felt like an answer after too many moments spent enduring uncertainty. The dark hull hovered against the fading desert light like something carved from shadow and glass, impossibly steady above the desert floor. For a brief moment, she simply watched it descend.

Then Syn moved. The survivors lifted gently from the sand beneath the guidance of the Force, suspended carefully rather than seized, their bodies supported as though gravity itself had been persuaded to loosen it's grip. Lumiya rose more slowly beside him, her exhaustion showing now in quieter ways; the measured pace of her movements, the slight pause before fully straightening. Still, her attention followed the injured first, instinctively checking positions and breathing even as they were carried toward the waiting ship.

His words lingered beside her as they walked. A Jedi’s force of will is important…

Lumiya was quiet for a moment after that. The desert wind shifted softly around them, cooler now as night threatened the horizon. Finally, she glanced toward him; thoughtful, calm, and just faintly tired around the edges. “…I think,” she said softly, “that there’s a difference between refusing limits….and forgetting you have them.” There was no challenge in the words. And no criticism, either. Only gentle honesty.

Her gaze drifted toward the survivors suspended ahead of them, toward the people who had nearly died beneath broken metal and canyon stone. “You held an entire wreck together,” she continued quietly. “You sustained people who should have slipped away.” A small pause followed. “That matters.” Then, more softly still: “But so does knowing when to rest afterward.” The words settled between them without weight. Not instruction. Not correction. Just concern offered plainly, the same way she offered bandages or steady hands; something given because she noticed the strain even when he seemed determined not to.

As they reached the lowered airlock, Lumiya moved instinctively toward the nearest survivor again, guiding their suspended form carefully once they crossed the threshold into the ship’s medical space. Her touch remained light and precise, easing them onto one of the waiting bunks before immediately checking the next. Only after ensuring the first was stable did she finally allow herself a quieter breath.

The crisis had not ended. There would still be injuries to treat, explanations to give, and whatever questions lingered behind the attack itself. But for the first time since the transport had fallen from the sky, Lumiya no longer felt as though everything rested on the edge of collapse. And somewhere beneath the exhaustion settling into her bones, that felt dangerously close to relief.

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He gave her a nod and she understood well as he continued to move them in and let her guide them to fit. "Limits are something we give ourselves but one should never try and stop pushing past them." The doors closing for the moment while he remained there and the spectral form appeared in front of him looking at it. The form glowing until Alema came into a clearer view but her voice came out. "Well we don't usually have this many guests." The jedi master looked at her while the lift was going but he didn't need to speak. The lift was faster and as it opened the walls were shifting. The ship was working on areas so that they would get around.

The internal aterno making a direct path to the medical area that he would be able to guide them while beds were being formed with the shifting programmable matter. "Set them on the beds." THe voice came as he was hovering them and following smaller crystals on each bed that glowed as kyber crystals. "I have medical supplies being fabricated, but he isn't able to fully see the bed only where they have beacons." Alema said it and the jedi master had guided them while he breathed in and then outwards. The sounds of the biot droids was coming while they were being fabricated for use as needed.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Lumiya watched the interior of the ship reshape itself around them in quiet disbelief. Walls shifted seamlessly as the lift rose, pathways unfolding where none had existed moments before. Beds formed from smooth programmable matter, medical equipment fabricating itself beneath the guidance of the ship’s unseen systems while small kyber-lit indicators glowed softly through the dimness. Even the approaching droids emerged with unsettling efficiency, already prepared for tasks not yet spoken aloud.

For a brief moment, Lumiya simply stood there among it all; sand still clinging faintly to the hem of her robes, hands marked with dust and dried blood that no amount of advanced technology could make feel less human. Then the nearest survivor stirred weakly. Immediately, her attention grounded again. “Careful,” she murmured softly, moving to the closest bed as Syn lowered the patient into place. Her hands guided the transition with practiced precision, adjusting the angle of the woman’s shoulders before checking her breathing once more. The medical systems around her were extraordinary, but instinct still pulled her toward touch first. Presence first.

Only after the patient settled did Lumiya glance toward the shifting walls again, thoughtful and faintly overwhelmed beneath her composure. “…Your ship is remarkable,” she admitted quietly.

Alema’s voice carried through the medical bay while the droids continued preparing supplies. Lumiya listened as she worked, though her gaze eventually drifted back toward Syn at his earlier words. Limits are something we give ourselves… A small silence followed before she answered. “I don’t think all limits are weakness,” Lumiya said softly. Her fingers adjusted the edge of a blanket around the patient as she spoke, movements slow and careful. “Sometimes they’re what allow people to survive long enough to become more than they were before.” Her gaze lifted briefly toward him then; calm, steady, but carrying the quiet weight of someone who had spent much of her life tending the aftermath left behind by people who believed themselves untouchable. “There’s strength in endurance,” she continued gently. “But there’s also strength in knowing you can be harmed….and choosing to help anyway.” The words settled without accusation. She wasn’t trying to challenge him. Only offering the truth as she understood it.

Then, almost instinctively, her attention shifted again; not toward philosophy, but toward the practical reality in front of her. The survivors. The monitors. The droids now bringing newly fabricated supplies to the bedsides. Lumiya exhaled softly. “…I should clean these wounds properly before the stimulants and adrenaline fully wear off,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. A faint trace of tired warmth brushed her voice then as she looked toward one of the approaching medical droids. “Though I think your ship may have already decided I’m unnecessary.” Despite the words, she was already moving toward the next patient anyway.

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He listened to her and setting them down remained there for a moment as he adjusted the limiters on his belt with a nod. "You are not wrong." he said it while looking at her but he moved speaking while he moved past the patients. He was moving though and looked at her. "She does that sometimes mostly to be difficult." He said it and looked up into the ship aas it remained innocently silent. THe jedi master motioning with one hand though for her to be able to sit in an area and he produced a pack of patches. "I might not have good healing skills but I can put a compress of bacta on someone and teach how to accelerate your own healing."

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The faint warmth that had touched Lumiya’s expression deepened, if only slightly, at his explanation. “Difficult?” she echoed softly, glancing upward toward the ship’s quiet interior as though expecting Alema herself to object to the accusation. The innocence of the silence that followed almost felt intentional.

For the first time in what felt like hours, something close to genuine amusement brushed across Lumiya’s features. Small. Tired. But real. Then it faded again beneath instinct and responsibility as her attention returned toward the nearest patient. Only this time, Syn’s gesture made her pause. The offered place to sit remained untouched for a moment while Lumiya instinctively prepared to continue moving anyway. Another dressing to check. Another monitor to glance toward. Another person who might need something before she allowed herself stillness.

Then she caught herself doing it. A quiet breath left her. Slowly, reluctantly, Lumiya allowed herself to lower into the indicated seat. The exhaustion settled into her almost immediately once she stopped moving long enough to feel it. Not dramatic collapse. Just the heavy ache of overused muscles, delayed strain, and the lingering weight of sustained focus finally beginning to collect its due. Her hands rested loosely in her lap for a moment before her gaze lifted toward the patches he produced. “You say that as though it’s a small thing,” she murmured softly. “Most people panic when someone’s bleeding in front of them.” A faint pause followed before she added, quieter still: “You held an entire wreck together and kept people alive long enough for me to reach them. I think that you’re allowed to stop understating your part in that.”

Her attention shifted toward the bacta patches then, thoughtful now rather than overwhelmed. “I know the principles,” Lumiya admitted gently. “Centering. Breath. Guiding the body rather than forcing it.” Her fingers brushed lightly against one of the sealed patches he offered. “But I’ve always been better at helping someone else heal than myself.” The admission came easily. Not ashamed. Just honest.

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the survivors resting throughout the medical bay. The soft rhythm of monitors and quiet droid movement filled the spaces between words now instead of blasterfire and collapsing metal. “…I think,” she said after a moment, her voice softer with fatigue than before, “that somewhere along the way I became more comfortable treating damage, than admitting that I had any.”

The words lingered quietly in the space between them. Then Lumiya looked back toward him again, calmer now, some of the guardedness worn thin by exhaustion and relief alike. “But,” she added with the faintest trace of warmth returning, “I suspect you already noticed that.”

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

He looked at her and the sash was there as he spoke. "I assure you the sight of blood ha never bothered me." He said it but sitting there with her he was able to hold one hand as he focused upon it and brought the force. "I have had a great deal of time to learn how to channel and use the force, the body that is injured cannot heal others as effectively. It is the same as protecting." He said it but motioned. "Now guide me to where you have the injuries." He said it but was infusing the force into the bacta patches themselves. "You are brave and will be better able to take care of them once you have restored your mind and body." He was saying it before he allowed her the chance to guide him where she was injured and he would be able to work on it.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Lumiya’s gaze lingered on the bacta patches for a moment longer before lifting back toward him. There was no resistance in her expression now; only the quiet, familiar instinct to place the needs of everyone else ahead of her own. Even seated, her attention kept drifting toward the survivors resting throughout the bay, as though some part of her remained unwilling to fully step away from them. “They’re stable,” she murmured softly, almost as if she needed to hear herself say it aloud before she could believe it enough to stop moving. Her fingers folded loosely together in her lap. “For now.”

Only then did she finally look down at herself properly. The damage was less dramatic than what the others had endured. Bruising darkening beneath the sleeves of her robes where collapsing metal had struck her arms and shoulders. Shallow cuts along her hands from torn durasteel edges. Strain carried through nearly every movement she made now that adrenaline no longer concealed it. And beneath all of that, exhaustion; deep enough that it sat behind her eyes no matter how calmly she carried herself. “I’m alright,” Lumiya said instinctively. The words left her before she could stop them. A faint breath followed, and with it came the smallest shake of her head; tired acknowledgement rather than denial. “…Mostly.” Her gaze lowered briefly, thoughtful now. “Nothing severe,” she admitted more honestly. “Just strain. A few impacts.” One hand lifted slightly toward her shoulder, fingers brushing the place where tension had settled deepest from hauling survivors through the wreckage again and again. “My left side took most of it.”

When he told her to guide him, Lumiya hesitated only for a second this time before carefully shifting the fabric aside enough to reveal the spreading discoloration beneath. Already darkening. Already stiffening. “You don’t need to spend your strength on me,” she said quietly, though there was less insistence behind it than there might have been earlier. Fatigue had worn the sharper edges from her stubbornness, leaving only concern behind. “Not while they still might need you.”

But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to remain still as he worked, her breathing slow and controlled while the ship hummed softly around them. Medical droids moved quietly between beds. Monitors pulsed steady rhythms into the calm that had finally replaced the chaos outside.

For the first time since the crash, Lumiya was no longer fighting the next disaster before it arrived. And perhaps because of that, the exhaustion she had been outrunning finally began to settle fully into her bones. “…Thank you,” she murmured again after a long quiet moment. Softer this time. Not only for the rescue. Not only for the ship. But for noticing that she needed care too.

Tag: Syn

 

[Syn]

Lumiya Dara

H was listening to her and could feel her more and more in the force. His mind going over it as his force senses remained at the ready in case anything happened. His movements guiding him while he applied the patch but spoke softly. "You are welcome but do not discount making sure you are well. Even if it is something small a crash is dangerous and it might be selfless to worry about others but if you fall, if you injure yourself from strain. Then all those relying on you will suffer cause you are not there." He said it while he was channeling the force into her shoulder and herself. "Just allow yourself a moment, it doesn't have to be massive bbut still your mind and body. Release the tension and then you will be able to go back to them with a better approach."