station72 | mental link

[She hasn't healed -- she'll never heal, she thinks, but having Angel reach for her like that helps more than she wants to admit. Having those sorts of attachments, she understands now why the Jedi forbids them. The pain of loss is enough to tempt any Force-sensitive to darker thoughts.

She'd since convinced herself that if she ignores it hard enough, then they won't come to her outside of a nightmare once a week. Her smile, though weary, is genuine. Though she doesn't lift a hand to embrace her, Ahsoka does briefly rest her cheek against Angel's arm in return.

Reminding herself that she hadn't come for comfort is harder, but she manages to straighten her spine and force down any desire for contact in favor of business.]

There's a lot of strain on his power cells. I haven't been able to figure out a solution.

[ She doesn't let go, rather her only concession is that she needs to work so instead - in an easy way as Ahsoka explains, she takes her hand in her own - like it was oh, easy, nothing, not all sorts of needed to that lean she Ahsoka gave her in return.

Threads her fingers through as she tilts her head to look - and this time at least, she's already poked around in scrappy's systems that she doesn't need to touch first.

She tilts, her head settling against Ahsoka's shoulder as she brings up her marked hand. As much about steadying herself in that moment as she wants to be close to her. Taking a deep breath, feeling the light flare up bright and brilliant in herself, and watches Scrappy light up as she does. Eyes shut as she peruses through its programming, a routine sweep moving through it's systems before her eyes open up again.

Voice not quite right when she's deep into a system, echoes funny in her ears, in her head. A crackle of power that is in her mouth and sparking between her fingers. Raw and flood and - like time moving faster around her than it does else outside of the sphere. Scrunches up her nose a little in thought before she speaks: ]

Feels like there's something not wired right that's diverting a lot of extra power unnecessary. Might be the auxiliary chip - wait - no that's not- [ pause, deep breath, another movement of light under her skin and - ] Alright check the auxiliary chip first, then look at its secondary directional motor. Feels like they're... not quite talking right.

Edited 2016-09-26 06:44 (UTC)

[Ahsoka swallows stiffly when the spark of Angel's power touches the Force and as the feedback vibrates along their link, shocks her nerves as it had the first time she demonstrated it, but this time she is--mostly ready for the experience. She breathes out her nose, tries not to blink too much, and focuses instead on listening to what the other woman has to say and less on what she's feeling through her.

A siren's power. It tastes strongly of copper, makes her lightheaded in a way that she vaguely appreciates in an unconscious sort of way.]

--okay. I can do that.

[She doesn't think to unthread their fingers, and she can't help the small chuckle that comes from her when she thinks of how ridiculous they both most seem, sitting among a pile of wires staring at a droid and basking in the rawness of power.

Its too indulgent for Ahsoka, and she clears her throat to separate herself from the sensation that Angel's power leaves her with.]

I think.

[ She pulls her head up, shakes it slightly to let the power dim, rolling off her like water, crackle off her arm as she lets it fall. A spark that she grounds - she needs to see what that is, still not sure. Knew how she'd stopped that man's heart in absolute surety but - ]

Hm?

[ Her eyes draw back to Ahsoka. Eyes on her face, watching her careful, and the broach with a tight squeeze of her fingers. Neither blind nor stupid, and she cares, always she does. ] It's Anakin's, isn't it? [ A pause. ] I ... helped him when he was building it. He looked like he was forever frustrated with it.

It was. Yes.

[Past tense, always reminding in spite of how it makes her throat want to close. But she is stronger than grief, and it will not rule her anymore. Ahsoka holds Angel's state for a moment before looking down to Scrappy and kneeling so that she can open his chassis. She had been avoiding digging through his deeper wiring, not wanting to accidentally wipe it's memory on some foolish chance that Anakin had left something else behind.

She returns the squeeze of her hand briefly before untangling herself. With Angel's guidance, she pulls his power source free to avoid electrocution and gently passes through wires to get at the droid's auxiliary chip.]

He never did very well when patience was necessary. Especially involving droids.

Edited 2016-09-26 13:09 (UTC)

[ She watches her a moment, letting her work once she lets go of her hand and in turn lets the machine dull from her senses.

Quiet, for awhile, contemplating the work she'd felt respond to her. Anakin had built good machines, she'd like how he'd done it and there was something to that she supposed. Coding and construction. They could be very personal. Everyone had their own little ways. Difference being once a machine achieved a true sentience, then it began to write itself but - ]

Everyone builds different, you know? [ she ventures after a moment. ] I mean sure, it's all the same in some regards. Certain wires have to go certain places to make it work, of course. But... in whole arrangement, these things can be very personal. You can always tell whose work is whose after awhile. There will be parts of its wiring, its systems that is... just his. No one else's.

Yeah.

[Until she messed with it all, of course. She'd tried not to mess with much, even this much feels like a violation -- but she's determined to give the little droid proper function. If nothing else, Anakin would have been proud of her for it.

And it helps keep her mind off the poison that his her broodmate, and his attack dog.]

Chip's not fried. You said the secondary directional motor?

[ She lets her go about it, settling back to her own work. Testing simple commands with the lion. Words she reaches out with her mind that she ties to hand gestures. Beckoning it to her, just to check it's movements, see that they were still smooth, then away again as Ahsoka calls to her - ]

Yeah, seemed like something might have been misfiring from what it said.

[ She tells the lion to stop walking, to sit back on its hind legs, front legs in front of him, poised. ]

[Ahsoka's brows knit as she goes. She's not as adapt as her master or Angel, as far as robotics go, but she knows enough. In spite of that, she is distracted by the lion's movements, and picks her head up from around the droid's dome to watch it.

It pulls a smile from her, though its a light one. She finishes attaching the necessary wires and sits back to appraise them both.]

I guess it is kind of cute, even if whatever its modeled after is weird. It looks kind of like a bothan.

[ She keeps going through the steps, because it's comfortable, between them. Letting Ahsoka work close to her as she in turn works. Waving her fingers up giving a command that brings light to her skin and to its eyes - sit - and it rocks back onto its haunches. Then her fingers sweep up - glowing again briefly - and it rises up like its begging for a treat.

Learning to move with it, in time to it. ]

I thought so. I... guess I was expecting more fangs? When they told me it was a predator. But... there's something to it, I guess.

[ she giggles a little. ] That and I liked the colour I picked.

[Ahsoka's own, more reserved giggle rises with Angel's when it stands upward. She folds both arms over Scrappy's deactivated dome and rests her chin over them while Angel explores her reach with her companion.]

Its not always about the teeth.

[Her smile stretches just enough to show off her sharp little canines, but doesn't offer further insight or comment on it. Its a sly remark, the sliest she can manage in her current mood.

But even she has to admit that the company is picking her spirits up a bit.

With that in mind, she leans back enough to observe Scrappy's open panel, re-stuffing all of his wires and consoles back inside in the most orderly way possible before reattaching his power source.

Scrappy slowly whirs to life in low-power mode again, and Ahsoka's brows knit impatiently.]

[ And Angel is immediately distracted by that - the white sharp line of incisors. All set neat against the curve about her lips. It's -- pretty. She never thought of fangs as... pretty.

The lion makes a noise - like it knew she had been distracted from it where her fingers were drawing it up and - oh shoot, shoot, no, no, back down you go, Lion. ]

I guess not.

[ She clears her throat and settles the lion onto the ground. Sighing, well at least she didn't make it accidentally fall over and break something. Still all in working order, which is more than she can say for Scrappy? ]

Still no good, huh?

[Ahsoka's attention is drawn sharp by the lion's fitful noise, and she instinctively reaches for Anakin's lightsaber to activate it and flip it to reverse grip before she notices that Angel has the situation under control.

Alright, so maybe she was a little jumpy. She wasn't exactly sure of the range of Angel's powers, and how much control she had over that lion -- how much of it was in its programming. When you fight a two year war against a bunch of robots, you tend to be a little jumpy around them.

The hum of the lightsaber hangs for a moment between them before she deactivates it warily and turns back to look at Scrappy.]

Guess not. Any other ideas?

[ That's - well, she's not surprised from what Ahsoka had said about her fight back home. But - well, one day she's going to have to assure her that robots aren't likely to turn on her any time soon. ]

Hmm --

[ She lets it settle back on the ground, a soft instruction to stay before she walks back towards her. Light on her feet as she bends in front of it. More hands on this time as she leans over, hair falling over her shoulder, eyes closing a moment as the light comes to her skin once more. Her hands law flat and the tone of her voice is breathless and airy. Bubbling at the lips with the far off echo. ] Put your hand on mine, come see --

[ Crack in a door, encouraging Ahsoka to slip in close to her. Guide her into the machine that lights up in response to her. ]

[Ahsoka keeps her eyes on the lion, even after Angel forces it to settle. After she moves to kneel down to Scrappy's level is when Ahsoka's attention reconfigures itself back to what matters. It wasn't like some clanker was going to get the jump on either of them by itself.

The power switches on again, like a light all its own. It brings that tingling along her skin again, the feeling of raw energy that she used to feel so keenly as a child, when she could not control the flow of the Force. It feels different in adulthood -- or perhaps its just Angel's powers that feel different. Curiosity wins easily over caution the second time around. Mostly.

For a moment she just watches, expecting Angel to perform her magic and find the real problem. But then she feels a tug of encouragement, the lithe sort of brush against her mind that she's come to find almost as familiar as Anakin's, and she realizes that this is meant to be a group activity. A careful swallow precedes her motion (I can handle this) as she moves to join her friend beside the astromech. The brace helps just the barest bit as she adjusts to the sensation of allowing herself to be guided again.

After all, she hadn't hurt her the last time they had shared minds -- even after everything that had been happening in the Station, she has no reason to believe as much now.

She drops to her knees in a meditative fold, one hand on her lap and the other finding its resting place over Angel's. And there it is again -- like clockwork, a numbing sensation that vibrates through the Force and across the symbiote, a sensation that forces her to allow her eyes to drift shut so that she can breath and so she can allow Angel to be her eyes.]

[ There's always something intimate to her powers in the hive now. Before - her life had been a shut-in existence. In her head, with no one else there. No one to share it with, Jack had made sure. No way to share herself outside of words, and no interest in the things she could build. Dismissive when she babbled of worlds she could make. When she learned to craft like an artist these places of neither here nor there.

She'd showed Ahsoka her misery, her grief, just what her powers had caused to happen to her. But never given her the thing she loved it most for. Never hated her powers like that, at least.

Granted, the plunge is never gentle. There's no sweetness to it, no control, it's being hurtled, grabbing onto a moving object as it takes to flight. All there ever is; is to hang on. Rush, shifting and curling inside of her blood that burns, and oh that's the danger she knew Lilith indulged in, it feels good to burn, and where Ahsoka lets her in, she rushes in to fill the space. To drag her under with her. All breathless and quick and high in her throat. A suppleness and a want to her. There is no up or down, here, she hovers two feet of the ground in the edges of Ahsoka's thoughts, a voice in multitude that echoes from a realm away. ]

( Okay? )

[ A checking thought that's word as much as feeling, brushing against her cheek to make sure it's not too much. ]

[It is too much, Ahsoka knows it immediately. Her breath catches somewhere in her throat, a flood of power she can't prepare herself for, a burn that reaches and digs deep in her palms, her elbows, behind her eyes and deep in her stomach. Some piece of her craves the sensation, the piece of her that threatens to let a giggle bubble out, the piece of her that wants to yank control away and hold onto the bliss and buzz forever.

The Dark Side of the Force offers brief feedback, a tightening of both of their throats, two volatile powers too close to one another.

The dominant piece of her, the one bathed in light and awareness, cinches hold of the darker desires, forces the strength of a swallow and a grounding that leaves her feet and hands firm. Serenity. Balance. Calm.

Her head floats, but she finds her focus in Angel and gives one confident nod. She is above that thrill, the tingling power that a siren gives to her. The hold on their throats fades away.]

( This is dangerous. )

[We are dangerous. An acknowledgement, not a refusal. A bit of amusement, alongside caution. She knows what to expect now. They can be ready for it together.]

[ And oh so helpfully: ]

( Yeah - fun, isn't it? )

[ But she sinks and simmers, this is comfortable to her. No careful process of keeping her head above water. She bobs, slick, quick movements that it rolls over her. Burning through her veins as her head rolls, stretching muscles that she loves the feeling of.

Jack made her hate her powers - loathe what they let her to do to others, what he made her do. Another thing she is glad for the hive of that for once she could share, with no destruction. Just stretch and roll and free herself, feel the hum of light in her veins, the shudder of deep things in the earth under her bones. Open her mouth and feel old things press against her tongue.

Gives one, one second, propping her up in that light feeling before she sinks further into the core of the machine. Deep and thudding. ]

[Ahsoka has found her balance now, so while Angel swims and darts inside the machine, she controls its swerve, keeps them from flying too far off course, a weight that makes them feel powerful rather than weighing them down in a hindering manner. While she tends to the droid, Ahsoka focuses on breathing -- watching and guiding as best she can without getting lost in the spiral of power.

It was always a dangerous thing, to give a Force sensitive a taste of power. And now matter how she pretends not to enjoy it, how much she respects the danger that she courts, some part of her feels wicked in her presence.]

( That's a word for it. )

[Its a respectful and conspiratorial reply.]

( See anything? )

[ It unfolds around her, a comfortable shift in reality shared through her mind, to drag Ahsoka through to the - half place, not quite here or there. All purple and white light-drenched, as she lets it build around them.

But it's not her, this isn't how she builds machines. That had a particular taste, as did everyone with their creations.

No, no this is not hers, in here - there is the thumbprints of Anakin in clay. His creation, his thoughts, his arrangement. Evident and complete here. ]

( You would know his work better than I do... )

[ and there is the invitation, why she drew in Ahsoka in in the first place. A laspe in her walls, to the core of her, that hums in a way that isn't human or the force she felt in Ahsoka. An invitation for her especially and no one else. To let her into her limbs, her abilities, to the deep and whole of her.

To use her and them, willingly given over to the person she trusts implicitly. ]

[Ahsoka doesn't balk hard enough to upset their balance, but there is a definite resistance as Angel invites her close enough to force their palms open. She knows exactly where this will lead, even if Angel does not. Once, she might have trusted the surety of her own thoughts, but now -- when they were so close to people like Kylo Ren--.]

( I don't want to hurt you. )

[To allow her so close would be to invite the Force inside of Angel, when she was not meant to be sensitive to it. What if their powers didn't mix? What if she went too deep and found the tattered remains of her Force-bond with Anakin? What if she found their power and because drunk upon the Dark Side before she could react?

The thoughts cross between them before Ahsoka focuses on Angel again, feeling the electric buzz along her arms.]

( Can you--sever us, if something goes wrong? )

[ She is quiet, for a moment, where she has to force herself still to let Ahsoka in and feels - the rush of her worries. Her concerns for what might come of it. ]

( Ahsoka. )

[ It's calm, it's removed, she looks on from high above and when she speaks its with weight she does her best to hide, to pretend she is not. Because she looks and she sees all and she never loses herself. She is multitude, she's a distorted space between her realities, and she has never been in control of her body, but her mind? hHer mind was all her own. Controlled, and she controls with it. She's tasted the wash of destruction inside of herself and came out the otherside. ]

( Trust yourself, and trust that I trust you. )

[ Bears down, down, down, a rumble of old eyes in ancient things, the steadiness of wing beats that leave her floating. ]

Edited 2016-10-11 09:17 (UTC)

[There's only a moment of absolute silence, as Ahsoka instantly recognizes that Angel is right, and that she is being ridiculous.

Inhale, and then exhale, and she finds her center again. Angel's power might have been ancient, an endless flow of destruction and horrors, a thread of electricity grounded in the earth, but Ahsoka was the Force. She was an embodiment of life, and even as she surrendered herself to Angel's mind, it sang like a song -- something unique, that only she would ever hear.

Her thoughts go blank as she settles into meditation, to focus with her mind on her present task.

Angel hears it now, the song of the Force flowing through them, as Ahsoka moves their hands, feels the featherlight weight of her body and soul, becoming privvy to all living things inside of the compound and some outside. To feel the weight of the planet, its struggles and its yearnings, and the strife of the Nest all as one.

She had almost forgotten just how good of a mechanic she was. Though she had never been as good as her Master, her skill was hardly anything to scoff at. With Angel's powers (Angel, not her powers) at her fingertips, she maintains a closeness to the presence of her mind as she searches. Even if Angel trusted her not to slip and shock them, she has no way of predicting how the other woman will take to the Force and the sudden vastness of the space around them.

She goes, a power to her own mind, a clarity in things they share knowledge of and ignores the taste of copper on her tongue as their fingers brush along the internal core of her old Master's droid. In the code, all appears aligned, until she reaches the coolant tank. For all intents and purposes, it appears to be functioning just fine, except for the fact that the hose was blocked from transferring it to the rest of its body, and the droid had entered low power mode to protect itself.

There's some amusement, and some certain cocky delight when she finds the problem. With their hand, she reaches out to heat the power-coupling with the intent of melting the block away. Daring and reckless, maybe, but Angel had told her to trust them together.

So she did. It had taken her a long time to learn to trust anything other than herself, and now she didn't always trust that either.]

[ Her first thought is it's not like being a siren. No, no, it's nothing at all like it. Being a siren isn't -- forgiving. It flows, like this feeling that washes through her. Flows, too, but so does magma. The hot, chew up, spat out core of the earth. Feeling her skin crack and heal itself like the Badlands in desert and rain. Like learning how to breathe each and every time, it left her gasping and ruined.

But she'd take it, she thinks, for this - she's never full, she knows, she's been empty since the day the Eridium left her, since the symbiote took over a dead body with a working mind and kept it running. The hive, it helped, gave her something outside of herself to keep her distracted, but this doesn't feel like that either. Keeps it down, keeps it so far down because to look at it, to acknowledge it, was to give into it. Push that pillar over and she'll come tumbling apart like a house of cards. She can't have anyone know that, can't have anyone see that. She tries to cover it as best she can in the way she's stumbling through being part of the hive, because it gives her plenty of reasons why she should savour the heavy feeling of her skin, the way she can feel muscles pull at bones.

Not least of all ( Ahsoka's forehead pressed to hers, fingers locked tightly, promising her she never had to be alone again ) what she had found here.

Because she doesn't know life, she has it now and barely knows what it means, she doesn't know living except in the surety that she has not.

This is - this is pure life. She has been holy, but she has never been pure like this. Wrapping around her, promising her something she knows she has no right to be near and it would be easier to hate it but, junky craving, ugly in her veins, she's just so - so - empty, and as Ahsoka, what Ahsoka is, settles inside of her bones, into those empty places. ( After fire, comes growth, she not made to grow things but - Ahsoka is, Ahsoka is, Ahsoka is - ). Tells her, feels it, promises her that connected holeness. Something pitiful and dead in her lungs that begs it to leave her alone, she's not made to grow back in the same breath that she wants to beg it to never leave - it, Ahsoka, let her stay in this space inside of her because nothing's been the same since. Holy and she's profane for touching it, the destruction she's caused, the lives she's taken. Not all Jack, never all Jack, but Jack's daughter, and just as vicious -

It's almost too much - but she shoves it deep, shoves it low, Ahsoka doesn't need to know, no one does. Like shoving the back of her hand into her mouth to keep the low noise out of herself as Ahsoka works. She's vile, she knows, wretched, sick to her core, she wants the life that ebbs through her so much that:

She'll never say a damn word of it. She never had before. It was easier to just let it burn up the inside of her throat. Letting Ahsoka's perusal draw her back, anchor her.

Is this what being clean felt like? This is going to destroy her. How dare it, how dare it remind her of the thing she knew better about. Hope, it promises, all things are connected, such is life, such is transience. When a siren dies, another one is born. It will continue, there is an after, and it's the thousand people that she can feel brimming in Ahsoka's awareness.

Ahsoka - it's what draws her back. She'd said to trust her, and here she was eating her words. Finds herself hanging on just where she must to keep them tethered. Feeling her word, move through the corridors of the machine's inner workings, look over it piece by piece with surety, and trust in her and it stills, that burning, twisting feeling, (God, is that what being clean felt like?)

Trust Ahsoka, trust herself, that's what she had said. Trust, trust in them both for this. It's hard, to keep her tone unaffected. Doesn't want to worry her. She never wants to worry Ahsoka, and that's - what she needs. She can work through this - she had promised, against the after taste of chemicals in her systems, that she would never let that trust be a lie again.

It hurts, hurts because she will never not want this, she will never be that kind of whole, but - she can be something else instead. Grits teeth, closes her eyes, forces herself forward against it. Not anymore, Jack. ]

( That.... That looks like it. )

[ Words far off, polite as she always is, she can work through this. She has before, even if it didn't cause her to go stiff then hot then lax as some many things moved through Ahsoka, moved through her.

No, nothing like being a siren at all. She'll pay for this, later, when Ahsoka leaves, she'll heave her guts up and hate herself for what she never had a choice about. She'll melt something in rage and cry for three hours, but she'll do this - do this for Ahsoka, and do this for herself. ]

[As close as they are, the fact that they are one, makes it impossible for Ahsoka not to feel Angel's reaction, the surprise and initial recoil from the purity of the Force. She had expected as much -- though she was born into the Force, its presence could easily be overwhelming, even to her. She respects the other woman's personal space, her mental scape so entrenched in the mix of themselves, and opts not to acknowledge it.

But she does go slower, allowing Angel to sink into the flow that pushes back against her own while she works. A warm embrace, a lullaby, power and surety. The Light comes easily to Ahsoka -- the Dark, deep seeds waiting to be watered, but buried far beyond simple reach. She knows in a way that Angel cannot that the temptation for the easy way out is too great for an untrained mind, so she doesn't linger long.]

( Almost done. )

[A reassurance, a warning, a promise. The sickness stewing in Angel's gut stirs in her's in turn, and she swallows it down for both of them.

She had needed to learn to be strong, when her bond with Anakin had severed. She'd never known such pain to exist in the whole of the galaxy, such sudden emptiness and nothingness that made her want to scream and cry. The lack of light from all the Jedi she had once felt, and then that loss--

It was a lot. She doesn't expect or desire anyone else to be familiar with the sensation, but it has made her fortitude into a shell that could not be penetrated easily.

A soft hiss comes from the droid as the coolant starts to flow into the chamber, though no activity comes from him. After all, she had unplugged him to make certain that they didn't electrocute themselves.]

( There. Now--we must let go. )

[She would not force Angel away, but she gives her the sense that she is ready to return to herself -- a gentle and reassuring squeeze of her hand, and then a lightening.]

mental link

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

I'm sorry this is so late, cries

gnaws on