Anakin kept his distance, as much as the chamber allowed. Observed with the Force-sight and for the first time, ever, missed the lenses inside his helmet which had augmented his vision. Not enough to want to recreate them, but enough to know they may (maybe) have been useful.
His body was so much younger than it looked, grown to mid-adolescence in only a third of the time, then metabolically controlled to age at the normal rate (roughly) of a human while he was decades older. There was a hiccup in the connection between flesh and spirit that most would never be able to name but many could feel. Something about the young man simply was off. And even if he held his own presence tightly coiled around him, it wasn't still. it shifted and changed, like a well-polished opal held before a lit candle, like the spinning arms of a galaxy, like chaotic movements of particles caught in opposing gales. Too much, he was too much, not any one mortal thing, but something far beyond it expressed in a form it was perhaps never meant to. And what he pushed out flowed like a threat of touch, light, gentle, not actually there, but oh it carried a heaviness of death and destruction. Slight warmth which threatened blistering strikes, slight coolness which threatened sucking cold. A being which had touched Light at it's most bright and which had seeped the deepest Darkness.
Nothing should have survived one, and yet he'd survived both - although it wasn't even clear if the energy itself, for it was clearly some mortal form, was of a gender. Only his physical form truly said that, and Anakin himself only really minded in the sense of it being familiar when he didn't have much of that. Once he might have cared more but really, did it matter to someone who had licked at a star's core?
"The Force called. I answered." His voice wasn't as dry. Perhaps just a note or two higher than the first time he'd been this age, vocal cords undamaged by years of Tattooine's heat and dust and constant dehydration. But it was softer too. Barest hint of words, augmented with the Force to carry rather than to be loud, precision control which seemed almost impossible before. It was meant as a courtesy rather than a kindness, if the being is unused to hearing a voice, that wasn't his problem. But if the being preferred not to hear a voice - well, there Anakin could match a preference.
no subject
His body was so much younger than it looked, grown to mid-adolescence in only a third of the time, then metabolically controlled to age at the normal rate (roughly) of a human while he was decades older. There was a hiccup in the connection between flesh and spirit that most would never be able to name but many could feel. Something about the young man simply was off. And even if he held his own presence tightly coiled around him, it wasn't still. it shifted and changed, like a well-polished opal held before a lit candle, like the spinning arms of a galaxy, like chaotic movements of particles caught in opposing gales. Too much, he was too much, not any one mortal thing, but something far beyond it expressed in a form it was perhaps never meant to. And what he pushed out flowed like a threat of touch, light, gentle, not actually there, but oh it carried a heaviness of death and destruction. Slight warmth which threatened blistering strikes, slight coolness which threatened sucking cold. A being which had touched Light at it's most bright and which had seeped the deepest Darkness.
Nothing should have survived one, and yet he'd survived both - although it wasn't even clear if the energy itself, for it was clearly some mortal form, was of a gender. Only his physical form truly said that, and Anakin himself only really minded in the sense of it being familiar when he didn't have much of that. Once he might have cared more but really, did it matter to someone who had licked at a star's core?
"The Force called. I answered." His voice wasn't as dry. Perhaps just a note or two higher than the first time he'd been this age, vocal cords undamaged by years of Tattooine's heat and dust and constant dehydration. But it was softer too. Barest hint of words, augmented with the Force to carry rather than to be loud, precision control which seemed almost impossible before. It was meant as a courtesy rather than a kindness, if the being is unused to hearing a voice, that wasn't his problem. But if the being preferred not to hear a voice - well, there Anakin could match a preference.