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Mar. 2nd, 2020 01:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therevanchistThe Ebon Hawk's medbay is tiny, but that means it only has one entrance that she has to put a guard on to keep Carth from smothering anyone with a pillow. Revan is serious about not tolerating any more deaths, and HK would love the excuse to kneecap a meatbag, so Carth seems to have given up for the time being.
Even from the corridor, she can tell the Dark Side no longer twists tightly around Malak, but his presence feels gray and muted—strong, but it doesn't shine like Orren's or even Bastila's, or seem to suck light into itself as it had aboard the Star Forge. Was this what she had felt like to others when she'd arrived on Dantooine? Regardless, it means he hasn't been all that good at bouncing back from his wounds on his own. Revan remembers how draining it had felt to heal early on, like struggling to wrap her mind around a difficult new concept, and she suspects Malak's forgotten enough of what the light feels like to be in a similar position—especially because she'd beaten him within an inch of his life and in his present metaphysical state, she doubts his subconscious could manage the feat of tipping him from a coma into a healing trance.
Lucky for him, lately she's had light enough to share, the Force an inexhaustible reservoir of healing energy suffusing even the space between the stars. All she has to do is reach out to channel it into him, and by now, he should be close to waking up. At the door, she waves off a comment from HK, but pats him on the shoulder as she lets herself into the medbay, where Malak lies unconscious or maybe just asleep, the readings on his vital signs all in the green or at least the high end of yellow. He's looking less sallow, too, the Dark Side no longer tainting his appearance.
Revan lays a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the tides of his life energy flowing with his blood. She closes her eyes and lets the Force coalesce around the two of them, its unquenchable light flowing from her into Malak.
Time to wake up.
Even from the corridor, she can tell the Dark Side no longer twists tightly around Malak, but his presence feels gray and muted—strong, but it doesn't shine like Orren's or even Bastila's, or seem to suck light into itself as it had aboard the Star Forge. Was this what she had felt like to others when she'd arrived on Dantooine? Regardless, it means he hasn't been all that good at bouncing back from his wounds on his own. Revan remembers how draining it had felt to heal early on, like struggling to wrap her mind around a difficult new concept, and she suspects Malak's forgotten enough of what the light feels like to be in a similar position—especially because she'd beaten him within an inch of his life and in his present metaphysical state, she doubts his subconscious could manage the feat of tipping him from a coma into a healing trance.
Lucky for him, lately she's had light enough to share, the Force an inexhaustible reservoir of healing energy suffusing even the space between the stars. All she has to do is reach out to channel it into him, and by now, he should be close to waking up. At the door, she waves off a comment from HK, but pats him on the shoulder as she lets herself into the medbay, where Malak lies unconscious or maybe just asleep, the readings on his vital signs all in the green or at least the high end of yellow. He's looking less sallow, too, the Dark Side no longer tainting his appearance.
Revan lays a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the tides of his life energy flowing with his blood. She closes her eyes and lets the Force coalesce around the two of them, its unquenchable light flowing from her into Malak.
Time to wake up.
