It's more difficult than she's expecting, though she's not sure if it's merely the scope of this task compared to the smaller, simpler injuries she's healed prior to this. Maybe it's the conflict within her, the sense that maybe this was wrong -- that maybe she was wrong, one way or another. The sense of struggle makes her want to push harder against that resistance, whether it's her own or Vader's, and she has to forcibly remind herself that that's not how Force healing operates. She'll only hurt herself if she tries to keep too tight a control; just wanting it more doesn't work when it comes to healing.
In the midst of all of it, there's a sense of recognition that creeps into the edges of her awareness as she tries to get out of her own way and let the Force do its work. Beneath all the overbearing cold is something of Luke, and of Kylo. Even Leia. And somehow, impossibly, to her -- though not by the same blood bond that tied the others.
She frowns with the effort and the concentration it takes not to linger on the places her mind wants to go, the doors through which the Force could lead her if she strayed from her intent. There's something just out of reach; a presence she doesn't understand. Something malevolent; something that wants her as it had wanted Ben Solo and Anakin Skywalker before him. Something that dares her to look, to see a truth she can't begin to fathom.
She realizes she's stopped breathing for a moment, that her heart's beating too fast and too hard, and a tiny beads of sweat have begun to gather on her forehead from the effort this healing has taken. Not enough to hurt her, not yet -- but when she lets the connection go and pulls her hand away, it's gone cold as ice, and she can't quite suppress the urge to shiver. She opens her eyes and the room takes a moment to stop swimming, but still somehow seems too small to contain all three of them. She can't quite catch her breath.
She rises and nearly stumbles, pushing past Kylo with only a shake of her head. She can't be here any longer. This isn't a safe space to have whatever reaction this is, and there's not enough air. She tries some word of explanation, but she's not sure what actually comes out beyond a slightly muddled version of I'm sorry, and then she's fleeing for the outdoors in search of space to breathe.
no subject
In the midst of all of it, there's a sense of recognition that creeps into the edges of her awareness as she tries to get out of her own way and let the Force do its work. Beneath all the overbearing cold is something of Luke, and of Kylo. Even Leia. And somehow, impossibly, to her -- though not by the same blood bond that tied the others.
She frowns with the effort and the concentration it takes not to linger on the places her mind wants to go, the doors through which the Force could lead her if she strayed from her intent. There's something just out of reach; a presence she doesn't understand. Something malevolent; something that wants her as it had wanted Ben Solo and Anakin Skywalker before him. Something that dares her to look, to see a truth she can't begin to fathom.
She realizes she's stopped breathing for a moment, that her heart's beating too fast and too hard, and a tiny beads of sweat have begun to gather on her forehead from the effort this healing has taken. Not enough to hurt her, not yet -- but when she lets the connection go and pulls her hand away, it's gone cold as ice, and she can't quite suppress the urge to shiver. She opens her eyes and the room takes a moment to stop swimming, but still somehow seems too small to contain all three of them. She can't quite catch her breath.
She rises and nearly stumbles, pushing past Kylo with only a shake of her head. She can't be here any longer. This isn't a safe space to have whatever reaction this is, and there's not enough air. She tries some word of explanation, but she's not sure what actually comes out beyond a slightly muddled version of I'm sorry, and then she's fleeing for the outdoors in search of space to breathe.