Unseen, Luke rolled his eyes. "The island is less than a kilometer across at its longest point," he threw back over his shoulder. "Have some patience."
The irony of this statement uttered by him was not lost, but it also was more sad than funny, and he didn't want to dwell on it. He'd been so impatient, back then. So ignorant. And yet, the lessons learned had been vague and contradictory, even with long years now of meditating on his mistakes. In some ways, he was no closer to understanding the Force than he'd been in Ben Kenobi's hut. And yet, when Rey looked at him, he saw someone reflected in her eyes he did not recognize. He didn't know which he wanted more: to live up to that image, or to tear it down.
But this wasn't about him. The long she lingered, following him around like a shadow, the more he understood her own restless conflict. The fear of what welled up within her, mixed with a thrill he, too, recognized. The potential to make a difference, to change the balance. It was dangerous.
The path wore its way through boulders and outcroppings of rock, bordered with moss, until after several minutes it emptied into a saddle between two peaks. In the little bowl formed there, dirt had accumulated enough to let wildflowers grow, and the sight and sound of the sea was reduced dramatically from most other points on the island. Luke had discovered it shortly after his arrival, and in those first, dark days it had been a refuge from the relentless sweep of the ocean. Sure it had been thirty years or more since he lived on Tatooine, but there was a part of Luke that would never really get over his fascination with that much water--or his wariness of it.
It was nothing, really--a small depression with little white flowers dotting the green--but what Rey could not know was that he had not brought her here yet because it was his. He wasn't sure why he was doing it now, except in an attempt to do something, anything, differently.
Turning, he dropped to the ground, legs crossed.
"You can use the Force to communicate over long distances," he said, as if no gap existed between her question and his answer. "I've only ever done it during times of great necessity." Mostly because he hadn't thought about it until then. "And in my experience, it's only possible when you know who, or what, you're looking for. The life of every living being is visible to us in the Force, but to connect to one specific person, to communicate in words rather than merely emotion, takes control."
no subject
The irony of this statement uttered by him was not lost, but it also was more sad than funny, and he didn't want to dwell on it. He'd been so impatient, back then. So ignorant. And yet, the lessons learned had been vague and contradictory, even with long years now of meditating on his mistakes. In some ways, he was no closer to understanding the Force than he'd been in Ben Kenobi's hut. And yet, when Rey looked at him, he saw someone reflected in her eyes he did not recognize. He didn't know which he wanted more: to live up to that image, or to tear it down.
But this wasn't about him. The long she lingered, following him around like a shadow, the more he understood her own restless conflict. The fear of what welled up within her, mixed with a thrill he, too, recognized. The potential to make a difference, to change the balance. It was dangerous.
The path wore its way through boulders and outcroppings of rock, bordered with moss, until after several minutes it emptied into a saddle between two peaks. In the little bowl formed there, dirt had accumulated enough to let wildflowers grow, and the sight and sound of the sea was reduced dramatically from most other points on the island. Luke had discovered it shortly after his arrival, and in those first, dark days it had been a refuge from the relentless sweep of the ocean. Sure it had been thirty years or more since he lived on Tatooine, but there was a part of Luke that would never really get over his fascination with that much water--or his wariness of it.
It was nothing, really--a small depression with little white flowers dotting the green--but what Rey could not know was that he had not brought her here yet because it was his. He wasn't sure why he was doing it now, except in an attempt to do something, anything, differently.
Turning, he dropped to the ground, legs crossed.
"You can use the Force to communicate over long distances," he said, as if no gap existed between her question and his answer. "I've only ever done it during times of great necessity." Mostly because he hadn't thought about it until then. "And in my experience, it's only possible when you know who, or what, you're looking for. The life of every living being is visible to us in the Force, but to connect to one specific person, to communicate in words rather than merely emotion, takes control."