[ This is the second time, Dagan thinks idly, that he's been forced out of something... wet after believing he's died. At the very least he's simply been yanked out some water this time then stumble out of a bacta tank. It had taken forever to wash the gunk out of his hair... And he's not down any more limbs. Just the one missing arm is enough. Not that he lets that slow him down.
Speaking of which... he can't reform that arm. His... connection to the Force feels remarkably horrid. There's still something there, slipping from his grasp every time he tries to hold it. It's akin to wearing ear plugs. There's something to be heard but it's fuzzy, muffled, and distorted. But there seems to be no way to claw them out.
But he pushes it. Forces it. As hard as he can, and for just a second a spectral arm shudders into existence in his absence of one. And then just like that something unravels in him and it's gone, the glowing appendage flickering out of existence. He sighs in frustration, his intact arm dropping to his side. This is all that terrible ginger's fault. ]
This is worse then last time. I wonder if I was sleeping for a thousand years this go around...
[ There's a lilt to his voice, and an odd sort of wildness in the gray skinned mans almost too pale eyes that might tell someone that this boy ain't entirely right. ]
ii - magic lessons
[ Dagan was always considered a prodigy of his time. One of the Jedi Order's finest. Things came easily to him in ways that often sparked jealousy in his former peers' hearts. And this too is no different. He only needs a try or two and he's grasped the spell. Different from a Force Shield but that's negligible. A few days ago he might have been thrilled at the prospect of this but he can feel his old skills and abilities slowly leaking back into him. The earplugs had wiggled out a bit.
He waves the summoned shield away, looking a hair exasperated. ]
This feels rather juvenile. Is there not something more complex, more inspired we can be shown?
iii - nocwich shops and stalls
[ Dagan can be found wandering amidst the stalls, idly glancing at this or that. Being a new arrival and from Thorne he doesn't have much in the way of pocket change so he's mostly just window shopping picking up this or that as it catches his oddly luminous eyes.
He does end up persuading a vendor to let go of a bottle of nice looking wine for next to nothing with little more then a few honeyed words and vague hand gestures.
A little disappointing. He should have been able to get the man to part with it for nothing but... alas. Some other time perhaps when he was feeling more up to it. He smiles at someone who noticed the exchange and lifts the bottle, smiling a little too widely. ]
Did you want to share a cup? To celebrate... being alive.
Dagan Gera | Star Wars | The Devil
[ This is the second time, Dagan thinks idly, that he's been forced out of something... wet after believing he's died. At the very least he's simply been yanked out some water this time then stumble out of a bacta tank. It had taken forever to wash the gunk out of his hair... And he's not down any more limbs. Just the one missing arm is enough. Not that he lets that slow him down.
Speaking of which... he can't reform that arm. His... connection to the Force feels remarkably horrid. There's still something there, slipping from his grasp every time he tries to hold it. It's akin to wearing ear plugs. There's something to be heard but it's fuzzy, muffled, and distorted. But there seems to be no way to claw them out.
But he pushes it. Forces it. As hard as he can, and for just a second a spectral arm shudders into existence in his absence of one. And then just like that something unravels in him and it's gone, the glowing appendage flickering out of existence. He sighs in frustration, his intact arm dropping to his side. This is all that terrible ginger's fault. ]
This is worse then last time. I wonder if I was sleeping for a thousand years this go around...
[ There's a lilt to his voice, and an odd sort of wildness in the gray skinned mans almost too pale eyes that might tell someone that this boy ain't entirely right. ]
ii - magic lessons
[ Dagan was always considered a prodigy of his time. One of the Jedi Order's finest. Things came easily to him in ways that often sparked jealousy in his former peers' hearts. And this too is no different. He only needs a try or two and he's grasped the spell. Different from a Force Shield but that's negligible. A few days ago he might have been thrilled at the prospect of this but he can feel his old skills and abilities slowly leaking back into him. The earplugs had wiggled out a bit.
He waves the summoned shield away, looking a hair exasperated. ]
This feels rather juvenile. Is there not something more complex, more inspired we can be shown?
iii - nocwich shops and stalls
[ Dagan can be found wandering amidst the stalls, idly glancing at this or that. Being a new arrival and from Thorne he doesn't have much in the way of pocket change so he's mostly just window shopping picking up this or that as it catches his oddly luminous eyes.
He does end up persuading a vendor to let go of a bottle of nice looking wine for next to nothing with little more then a few honeyed words and vague hand gestures.
A little disappointing. He should have been able to get the man to part with it for nothing but... alas. Some other time perhaps when he was feeling more up to it. He smiles at someone who noticed the exchange and lifts the bottle, smiling a little too widely. ]
Did you want to share a cup? To celebrate... being alive.
iv - wildcard
((wanna do something else? hmu!))