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trans_92010-02-06 01:47 am
jediwiseass.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-02-06 01:47 am
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What the hell is an aluminium falcon?
She'd done it again. She'd promised that she wouldn't but she'd done it all the same. She'd lost her cool and let her emotions govern her again. She feels the vestiges of what she felt at Mykr; rotten, brittle kindling in her gut. All it takes is a single match...
It won't happen again. She's stronger than that. Bee-lining through the ship and chastising herself under her breath, she goes in search of the only thing she had ever needed. Family. They're here somewhere, but between Stacy's awesome presence in the Force and the thrum of life vibrating from the pod caverns she has difficulty centering herself. Not keen on the idea of trawling the entire ship (that's no moon... but it's not far of) she decides to wait for them in the one place they would know to look for her.
Here in the hangar she could be at peace. When people confound her, she knows she can always turn to her beloved machines for solace. Machines speak plainly, machines she understands. When she asks a machine what is wrong, it tells her so that she might fix it.
And that is precisely what she does. She picks a ship, and boy, is it a doozy. Yes, she thinks her family will find her here.
Leaping with the Force onto the battered hood of the craft, she surveys its condition and tuts, "What has he been doing to you, poor baby?"
Minutes later she's an ocean in the stillness of night, absolutely dead to the world. A pair of oversized blast goggles slung over her eyes, she sets about blasting debris from one of the forward vents with a vibrotorch. Occasionally and without realizing, she slips into tunelessly whistling a popular ditty from home.
It won't happen again. She's stronger than that. Bee-lining through the ship and chastising herself under her breath, she goes in search of the only thing she had ever needed. Family. They're here somewhere, but between Stacy's awesome presence in the Force and the thrum of life vibrating from the pod caverns she has difficulty centering herself. Not keen on the idea of trawling the entire ship (that's no moon... but it's not far of) she decides to wait for them in the one place they would know to look for her.
Here in the hangar she could be at peace. When people confound her, she knows she can always turn to her beloved machines for solace. Machines speak plainly, machines she understands. When she asks a machine what is wrong, it tells her so that she might fix it.
And that is precisely what she does. She picks a ship, and boy, is it a doozy. Yes, she thinks her family will find her here.
Leaping with the Force onto the battered hood of the craft, she surveys its condition and tuts, "What has he been doing to you, poor baby?"
Minutes later she's an ocean in the stillness of night, absolutely dead to the world. A pair of oversized blast goggles slung over her eyes, she sets about blasting debris from one of the forward vents with a vibrotorch. Occasionally and without realizing, she slips into tunelessly whistling a popular ditty from home.
no subject
The hissing of the vibrotorch died and she got to her feet, shrugging off the goggles and folding her arms stubbornly. Stiff upper lip in full effect, because annoyance was so much easier for her pride to cope with than the sadness she truly felt. Uncle Luke, Aunt Mara, Wedge; of all of them, it had to be her father that didn't know her.
And it was true -- it wasn't just her appearance that was familiar. Though the attitude she carried was all his, he would have no doubt seen her mother wear the very same expression of jaded but loving patience many times before.
"Tampering implies that I'm making things worse. I'm not. I'm making it so she doesn't kill you the next time you try to fly her."