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Brief snuggles!

Because she needs to go change, too. Kiss, and then she's off.

... There's some slight trepidation about exiting the refresher in cozier but less covering clothes. Most of her scars aren't particularly impressive, but she has electricity burns from a dead Sith Lord that are rather striking. She's not ashamed of them precisely, but neither does she particularly want to watch Miles flinch upon seeing - her.

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This is stupid. She's a Sith Lord. If he cannot love her for her and look past whatever flaws cover her, then she'll simply remove him from her life, no matter how much it will break her heart. Then she will pick up her broken heart and stitch it back together and carry on with her life. Because she deserves to be treated well, and if he won't do it she won't have him.

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And so out she goes, to return to snuggling Miles.

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Miles hardly seems to notice her scars. (He's got some of his own, revealed by his current attire of T-shirt and shorts, though his are subtler - neat straight lines along his limbs, mostly, legacy of bone replacement surgeries.)

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Yep, see, there was no reason to worry.

(They make a pair, don't they, with their interesting sets of scars.)

She hums thoughtfully, and nuzzles him. "It's - easier to feel you now, I think. Through the Force, I mean."

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"Hmm?"

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"Ah, I sense living things around me. Sort of - I'd compare it to seeing people as glowing lights through fog, except it's not sight at all, but the metaphor is decent enough for my purposes. Some people burn brighter than others, and if I - do the equivalent of squinting - I can pick them out from further away. Finding it easier to sense someone in particular is sort of a - prelude to the Force bond?"

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"Aha. ...Does it usually happen that fast?"

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"It depends. Usually it's based around - perhaps not precisely emotional intimacy, but familiarity. This is faster than normal, but not astonishingly so, likely on account of how, um. I haven't actually gotten around to teaching you anything yet. Sorry about that."

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"Last I heard, you hadn't even decided whether or not you're going to," says Miles.

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"What can I say, you're persuasive," she says, deadpan, and then she smiles and shakes her head ruefully. "More seriously, I - trust you to take it seriously and handle it well. To not just do things because you want to or because it's easy or because you're angry. I couldn't say precisely when I decided that I was willing to, but, well. I did."

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"Well. Thank you."

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"You're welcome." Kiss.

"Actually!" she says, smiling a little, "this isn't a bad location for some very impromptu pointers. If you'd like them."

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"Sure!"

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"My first lesson in the Force," she says lightly, "was a dark room, a lot of containers, and one sword that was kind of a bitch to find. It worked okay, but was fueled very much by adrenaline, and I think I'd rather not put you through that."

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"Reminds me of my introduction to military command. But that's a story for another time. Go on."

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She snorts, looking at him with consideration.

"Hmm. Starting with finding inanimate objects is all well and good, but if I'm not mistaken, you're a people person. And the Force is highly focused on living things, anyway. All right, I think I know what approach to take with this. Close your eyes."

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He smiles agreeably and closes his eyes.

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"You mentioned that you felt a mystical sense of intent, when I put you in the healing trance. Recall how it felt, how it wasn't seeing or feeling, precisely, but something more. Recall, in short, how you felt me. The me that is housed in but beyond the humble flesh and blood of this fragile body of mine."

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"Okay."

He brings up the sensation in his memory.

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"Now hold that feeling in your mind, and let conscious thought fall away. Like you were sailing on the surface of a deep, deep ocean, and you're leaving your vessel and letting yourself sink into its depths. Focus on the air moving in and out from your lungs, the feeling of the bed beneath you, on the sound of my voice, on the hint of wind that carries it."

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Okay. Sensory experience and the feeling of presence -

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"You know what I look like," she murmurs, easy to pick out from the silence of the room. "Not the structure of my face or the color of my hair; me. You've seen me before. You know me. You saw me even while you were unconscious. I'm right next to you. You don't need to think about it to find me. Just follow my voice, follow the intent behind it, and you'll find the source."

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Yes, of course. Easiest thing in the world, or it should be.

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"It's not difficult," she continues, talking to me is already effortless, you said it yourself and you meant it - ah, there you go, hello Miles.

There she is. Alive and aware and herself.

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