Gusts of wind raced between them, dancing around and over and under her extended arm going numb from how long she'd held it directed at him.
She quivered slightly though his gaze remained unfazed by the shifts in her balance. Her head was pounding.
The lightsaber, directed like some gross, antiquated bridge of hope between them, was heavier than it looked. Somehow she'd pictured something, indeed,
and possibly more easy to work with agility. She'd been wrong.
And now she stood in the chill of a darkening day face to face with a broken,
laconic legend who looked more like a fossil ready to be reburied than someone who'd navigated the wiles of the Force and restored, if only for a time, peace in the galaxy and a balance.
Her arm trembled only slightly but the weight was beginning to strain her muscles. She stared at him, staring at her. They would maintain this paralysis as long as it was necessary.
His jaw was clenched so tight it was as if he had no intention of speaking til the end of time itself but she felt herself responding to this silent monolith nonetheless,
with new stirrings of acquaintance she could not
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