“How much did you hear from Master Masbau?” you ask. You’d rather not have to repeat everything all over again. You’ve decided to be honest about your experiences from now on. Even if they can’t do anything, all the Masters you’ve spoken to have tried to help you in their own way, whether it be through advice or training. Hopefully, Master Lasah is willing to do the same.

“He told me about the dreams you had. A ‘warp-dream’ filled with monsters, and a ‘ship-dream.’ He also briefed me regarding this Empyrean dimension, though I am having trouble believing in it. Do you have any evidence of its existence?”

“Erm…”

Actually, when you think about it, you don’t. Your injuries don’t directly point to the almost nonsensical reality of a realm of irreality. All they show is… nothing. Nothing beyond the obvious, that something strange is going on.

“Nothing solid. But, I haven’t lied and I haven’t purposely left anything out when talking to Master Masbau or the Council.”

“... That is rather specific. Who did you not tell the full truth to?”

Ack! She caught your awkward phrasing there. Well, it doesn’t really hurt to ‘fess up about this.

“My friends. My clanmates. I didn’t want them to worry too much.”

“Hmm. Very well. Please continue. I would like to hear the rest of the ‘truth.’”

You heard that! That set of quotations! Well, she’s not wrong to distrust what she’s heard. If you were in her shoes, you’d likely be unconvinced of such a ridiculous tale told by a second-hand source. Keeping that in mind, you cast your mind back once again and repeat the summary you’d given Masters Yoda and Windu, though with an even more abbreviated version of the parts she’s already heard. Once done, you give her a moment to process it all, lying back against the pillows and relaxing.

And listen.

Master Corr has heard it all before, and so her mind stays steady. The mental noise coming from her bobs along to some sort of internal melody, probably just some music she’s listened to recently. Master Lasah, however, is just as surprised by your tellings as the Council members, but something sets her apart. Where they seemed to feel confusion and concern, she feels something… different. You cannot define it. It’s an uncomfortable rumble in the back of your mind — a shake of the fist, a smile of interest, a tear of loathing disgust. It dances across your mind, setting you all a tremble and making your scalp buzz in pleasure or agony, you do not know. You watch her in your witchsight, trying to make sense of her and her thoughts, and… nothing? No. Nothing on the surface, but something lies beneath. Her emotions somehow stay stable. Implacable. Immutable. But, just behind it — not quite in the true-self, but at the layer you can see without your warp-eye — you see a gradual change. Her loves and fears, and desires and disgusts. Her unknowable secrets. You see something added.

A new curiosity.

She loves secrets. She hunts them out and turns them inside out, tearing the guts clear and diving into the heart of the matter. She is so familiar with so many that her true-self — even just the surface of it — is littered with them, and they are not all hers. She is an investigator, dedicated to the art of mysteries, and it seems she has found a new one to solve.

But you see something else within her, reflected in her unwavering emotions. The hunter’s favored weapon: patience. She takes her time, tumbling each new thought and piece of evidence within the confines of her mind, teasing out — or shaking out! — the gory details inside.

“Master Lasah? Is there… something? Anything you’d like to ask?” you say, hesitant to be her new pet mystery, but unwilling to let this uncomfortable silence go on any longer.

“Hm? No. I will ask more later. As for right now… do you still continue with your ‘meditations?’”

“Er, yes.”

“You should stop.”

Your thoughts grind to a halt. What does she mean, ‘stop?’ Doesn’t she like mysteries? Isn’t she curious about it all? At your stunned silence, she continues.

“You are exploring something unknown, but proven dangerous. If you already got ‘burned,’ then should you not stop touching the source of heat? Stop it. Immediately.”

“What? But—”

“No. I am serious about this. There is nothing anyone can do for you. You have already had help in looking into how to handle your problems, and nobody could help you. Nobody stopped you before you hurt yourself. So now, I am telling you what you need to hear. Stop with your childish adventuring. Focus on your wellbeing.”

You’re silent, feeling almost insulted and unsure of what to say. This is entirely at odds with what you thought she’d be like. How? Why? How can she be so much of one mind, yet able to detach herself from her own desires?

Is this what it is to be a Jedi? Or is she just different?

“But, what should I do, then? It’s not going to go away just because I ignore it. And, I need to get stronger in order to deal with it. The only way I know of is to just… practice. Even Master Yoda agreed to that.”

“Practice what? And practice how? Poking a sleeping rancor is not the same thing as ‘practice,’ All I have heard so far is that your only effective tool is Force Stanch.”

Well, she’s not wrong, and you suppose she’s not explicitly told you to stop using your telepathy, not that you can actively stop that. But even so, you’ve got things to do! Answers to find!

Again, Master Lasah continues, halting your silent musings. “That’s enough of that. I came here for a specific objective: to teach you how to see with the Force. I will meet with you each day just after noon and tutor you. This will be difficult, to say the least. Miraluka are born without eyes and hence do not have the impediment of having once been able to see. Even worse, you still have a functioning eye, so this will be even more challenging. Now, are there any more questions?”

“Um, yeah. I do have a few,” you say.

“Go ahead.”

“Master Lasah, why exactly are you willing to do this for me? Why are you willing to put in so much time and effort to teach me? From what you’ve said, it sounds like this is going to take quite a while.”

Strangely, she freezes for half a second — both in movement and thought. Her mind almost seems to stumble over itself, but recovers quickly. It’s not in panic, though. Her emotions stay relatively stable, so what exactly surprised her so much about that question?

“Master Lasah?”

“I simply owe Bren a favor, one that should have been paid back a long time ago. And, it is not as if I came here solely to teach you. I have other responsibilities here that will keep me occupied.”

That’s… a rather straightforward answer, so why do you still feel as if she’s leaving something out? What favor did she owe? What is Master Masbau to her? You cannot say for she reveals nothing in her emotions and you’d rather not press, despite your curiosity.

Stolen story; please report.

“Okay. Thanks, Master. I’ve got a couple other questions if you have the time.”

You take her silence for assent and continue.

“How does it work? I mean, how are you able to see with the Force and how are you going to be able to teach me it?”

“You can sense the Force.”

A statement, not a question, but you answer anyway.

“Yes.”

“The Force exists everywhere. We can feel through it — feel the weight and the contours of objects. And, everything — living or dead, natural or artificial — has an aura in the Force. By expanding our senses, we can at the very least distinguish object from object. It is as simple as that. Your training should have already taught you the basics, yes?”

You think back to the exercises you’ve run through over your years as an Initiate. Lifting and manipulating objects, blocking blaster bolts, dueling, everything is really just an extension of this principle — seeing without sight. Sometimes, foreseeing without sight.

And so you nod your head.

“Good. As I said, I will visit you once a day for training. Do not be late.”

“Um…”

“Right. Yes, I will not be late. Now, any more questions?”

“Just one more. Is there anything else you can teach me?”

“Hmm. I do not usually use many special techniques in my work. None that you may find interesting anyway.”

“But, is there anything at all?”

“... Nothing immediately useful in this day and age. But, I do know Battle Meditation. It is a rather advanced technique for your age and experience.”

“What is it?”

“Battle Meditation, as in its name, is a technique suited for the battlefield. Imagine if you were the commander of a force. With this technique, you could direct attention and resources across the battlefield quickly and efficiently. A force affected by Battle Meditation will always win a fight as long as the commander does not make a critical mistake.”

“So, how exactly does it work?”

“It is… a bit like a mind trick. Mind control, if you will.”

“On allies?”

“Yes. But, it only works if your control is accepted. It can easily be rejected.”

That does seem useful, but it also sounds rather difficult to learn. You’ve not done any mind trick training, so it would probably take a lot of effort that may not be worth it. After all, why would you need to command someone else? All you have is yourself and your lightsaber! But, perhaps one day it could prove useful.

“Are you willing to teach it to me?”

“Perhaps. I would like to see how you fare as a student first.”

“Okay. I’ll ask you about it again later. That’s all the questions I have. Thanks, Master Lasah.”

“You are most welcome, Youngling.”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

With a terse farewell, Master Lasah turns and leaves.

Well, she wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she is no Master Corr. Speaking of whom, Master Corr strips off the bacta tanks to give your arms another check-up. She has you raise your arms and wiggle your fingers, then bend them to touch your nose, one at a time.

“Y’know, I’m still very curious about these things. You say that they feel different, sometimes?”

Index finger still on your nose, you respond. “Yeah. Sometimes, it feels like my normal arm. Other times, this arm—” you wiggle your wood/metal/glass arm, pushing your nose around in turn “—feels like how it looks. It’s weird. Even in my other sight—” you point to your warp-eye “—it looks almost natural; just how you see it now.”

“And what about the other one? Swap arms, please.”

You touch your nose with the arm with the glowing veins. “This one just feels normal. But, to my other sight, it’s impenetrable. I can’t see into it.”

“So you can’t tell what this thing is?” Master Corr asks. Her finger traces along your arm, probably tracking the squirming anomaly within. “How does this feel, by the way?”

“It still hurts. And, yeah. I don’t know what that is. I can’t see it at all.”

“Can you feel it… moving?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Alright. Stand up, please. Time for some exercise.”

You follow along as Master Corr leads you through basic stretches and leg-based exercise. She’s still hesitant to have you do more strenuous activity with your arms, but at least your legs get a decent workout. However, your arms still begin to ache, just as usual, with the mere pressure of the air.

Notifying Master Corr, you lie back down on the bed, back against the raised pillow, and wait while she hooks the tanks back up.

“Thanks, Master.”

“You’re most welcome, Xena.”

She stands still, wavering slightly on her feet, seemingly suddenly unsure of something.

“Master?”

“About what Darling said…” she trails off.

You wait, letting her formulate her thoughts. No longer is there the upbeat bounce of an earworm song. No — now, her thoughts buzz as well, still indistinct, but familiar in an odd way. There’s something about it — something genuine — that clearly demarcates it as hers. Her thoughts. Not anyone else's.

Finally, she speaks.

“Xena, Darling means well. I know. I know you know. However, I also think you should do what you think is best. This is your life. Your mind. Your body. I, and all others here, can help you care for yourself. We care for you. But, this is up to you. You have made some rather… hasty decisions in the past, but I know you to be cautious in most cases. If you truly think the danger is gone, or if you trust in your own ability to avoid any further danger, then I don’t see why you should stop.”

“I… Um, thank you. Thanks, Master Corr. I’ll have to think about that.”

“Good. Now, how about a reward?”

You give a quiet smile as you hear her chair squeak and the wheels turn. A drawer slides open. And then another. And another.

“Huh? Did I run out? I swear I had more… Did I move them?”

Another squeak of the chair and you quickly school your face into the picture of innocence.

“Xena! What did you do to my stickers!” she cries.

“Err, nothing? I can’t move from here.”

“I know you did something. Do you hate me that much?”

“What?! No!”

“Sniff. I knew it. You hate poor old Master Corr now. Too much of a good thing turns sour, huh?”

She actually said “sniff” there, so now you’re pretty sure she’s just playing it up now.

“Oh, how will I survive now? I must - I must have my stickers, Xena! Quickly now, before I go into withdrawal! You must tell me!”

Laughing, you give up and tell her. You’d had the medical droid scoop them up and hide them in one of the pillows. Reunited with her debauched stash, she fake-cries in delight and returns them to their rightful place.

All over your face.

“Master Corr! Please!”

“Ha! That’s what you deserve! But, fine. I’ll remove them.”

A couple minutes later, she rinses your face of the sticky residue, then moves to depart as well.

“See you— uh, I mean, until tomorrow, Master Corr.”

“Think about what I said earlier, please. Do what you think best. I’ll trust in you to trust in yourself and in your own decisions. Goodbye for now.”

The door closes.

And then opens again. You shut the eye you’d just started opening as she sticks her head back in.

“Hey, do you hate the stickers that much?”

“No.”

With a laugh, she closes the door again to leave you to your rest.