Romancing Ryn

[Dancer]

ACT I; Finding Freedom, Scene 2

Theme: Romance
Location: The Angel's Den, Soceras
Theme here

The dancer squeezed her way down through the trap door and the narrow escape tunnel. She had found it when she had been casing the place the night before in preparation for her show. It had been a simple matter of discarding her costume when the lights dropped and disappearing through it during her grand exit. It was her signature move to leave the crowd with her a part, if not all of her costume. It left them begging for more when she appeared next. At last she pulled her bare body through the exit into the locker room. Mystique dropped delicately to her feet, her stiletto heels clacking as she walked to her battered locker. There were no other women in here. Frankly the place was open to all the staff--and only staff. For that she was truly greatful. Her mind went back to the masked man who has saved her. He was kind. Not many were kind to her. The thought of his action drew a soft smile of appreciation to her crimson lips.

The dancer began counting the credits she had earned. They had been collected by some of the automated parts of the club. Two thousand. Was it a lot? She didn't know, she has always been an impoverished slave. She would need someone to teach her and take care of her. Someone to look out for her like the masked man had.

She pulled her tight fitting aqua-colored lingerie on and bit her lip wistfully. Her tight fitting skinny jeans hung in her hands as she was lost in thought. Would she ever see him again? She hoped so. There were not many good people in the galaxy. She had come to feel they didn't exist any more and her purpose in life was to be the scraping the scum off the boots of those stronger than her. But maybe just maybe she was meant for more. And maybe there were good people out there........

[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

Ryn had made it past the security droids with no effort. James was efficient, charismatic, and trusting of those who earned it. So naturally, Ryn, even though not an official Justice Shipping employee, was still registered in the 'Employee' logs, giving him relatively free reign to travel throughout the club as he wished. Though, he was never one to abuse privilege, having never really had it until recent years.

His thoughts, as he strolled back-stage, were on someone who coincidentally was thinking about him as well. Though, unlike the many, many others also thinking about her, his thoughts genuinely were noble, innocent, and pure. Silly boy. He was familiar with dancing, though not quite as she danced, but was familiar with the toll it took on the body. Dehydration, depletion of energy, and if ones diet was poor, lowered blood-sugar causing shakes and even mental crashes. So, he had actually made a bee-line straight into the kitchen. He'd have his 'identification' around his neck, so staff didn't panic too badly as the masked, cloaked figure strolled idly into the kitchen. He'd acquire a tray, with glasses and a pitcher of ice-cold water, along with a sealed bottle of room-temperature water. He'd also make sure there were various finger-friendly food options as well. Cheeses, fruits, and even some meats and various tree-nuts for protein. He'd made the selections, based on what he knew he'd crave after a long duel or training session.

Balancing the tray in a manner that few could, given his unnatural agility and reflexes, the masked padawan would artfully dodge and weave past various behind the scenes workers, as he went down the halls seeking the changing rooms. He'd almost be there, when he felt her presence again. He'd eventually come to a halt at a locker-room door, and after taking a steadying breath, would rapt his gloved knuckles against the door. His melodic voice, oh so faintly distorted by his mask, would dance forth from behind the door. "Ma'am? I took the liberty of getting you some refreshments. Would you care for some conversational company?" He'd inquire, hopeful. He wasn't entirely sure why. Their species weren't the same, and she didn't seem particularly Force Sensitive. He didn't believe it was something as shallow as 'because she's pretty'...

It's because she touched your face, and didn't recoil.... He'd think to himself, with a sudden realization. The staff lounge, and private rooms were not far. He would go wait there if she bade him to.

[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

They usually didn't knock. And she didn't recognize the voice. Mystique swallowed and her cyan eyes flitted nervously. Where was the masked man when she needed him?

Pursing her lips she set her jeans down and reached for the hold out blaster she has managed to buy after scraping credits together a day or two after being free. She was no marksman but she knew how to use one enough to take care of herself in the situations she general found herself needing to: close quarters with body shots.

She took a tentative step forward, it took everything in her to not let terror grip every ounce of her being. Her mostly bare, pale body quivered.

"Come in," she managed, gripping her weapon for comfort. She prayed the masked man was not too far away to take care of her this time but her hopes knew this was most likely not the case.

[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

The padawan sensed fear, rolling off the woman in waves. He couldn't understand, until thinking to how she was assaulted on the dance floor early, so it could make sense. Sighing softly, he'd give a slight nod. "I am not here to harm you. I just wished to ensure you were alright after your performance, and the issues encountered on the floor."

Contemplating taking up her request to enter into the confined space, he realized the level of impropriety that would entail. So, giving a slight shake of his head, the padawan would speak once more. "I would just like to properly introduce myself to you. I will wait for you to dress and be comfortable, if you wish to speak with me. I will be down the hall." He'd not encountered such fear, not since.....

Another shake of his head, and down the hall the padawan went. Taking a seat in a lounge, he'd place the tray of food and water on a table, before taking a seat in a chair farthest from the door, to give the woman a greater sense of security to depart if she wants.

[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

Mystique nodded, without saying a word and moved back to her locker. That was a relief. She pursed her lips and slipped into her jeans, they hugged her figure like a clingy child not wanting to leave for day care. As she zipped up the stone washed denim she let out a satisfied sigh. Over her torso she slipped on a blue, scarlet, and white flannel. It felt soft and downy on her body like a blanket of comfort. She reached the buttons near her chest and sighed. I was always so hard to find shirts that would fit her around this portion of her body. She tried a few more times, but the fabric refused to comply. She sighed. She would have to go out there, apparel failure or not.

She looked in the mirror and gave her curly crimson locks a fresh tousle. Oh yes, that would do for sure, she thought after applying a fresh coat of equally vibrant red lipstick. True, she had grown accustomed to wearing it on the stage first, but it felt good off stage as well. One of her few pleasures she had in this world.

At last she stepped out into the hall and to the small private room. She was ready for anything--or so she thought.

When her cyan eyes caught the familiar figure, she froze in the door way, her jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with a thin hand a moment after. It was him. It was the man in the mask, the man in the robe! He had been here! He had been the one who saved her, he was her hero, her rescuer. She was stunned, What was he doing here? Did he want a reward? That had to be it. She swallowed dutifully. He deserved it and more than that--it would be her pleasure to reward someone who genuinely did good.

She took a seat next to him, wrapping an arm behind him as she gave a pristine smile. She was genuinely glad to see him, that was not faked. Now for the hard part--talking. She had to say something nice and not embarrass herself. She could do this.

"It is good to see you like this," she said genuinely. It was all she could manage and was surprised with its fluidity. Normally her words came with grasping halts.

[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

He smiled warmly as she came in, pleased to see he seemed to evoke a positive reaction out of the woman. She entered in, but rather than take any of the other seats surrounding the table, she chose to share the love-seat he was occupying! As she sat, his molten gold eyes met hers. But, as she placed an arm along the back of the sofa, bringing herself dangerously close to him, his own reflexive docility kicked in, causing him to shift oh so slightly away from her, giving her a little more space on the sofa. To anyone else, they'd assume he was merely being polite, but this woman, she'd likely recognize the slight act of subservience for what it was.

Clearing his throat, the padawan nodded. "I wished to check up on you, after you were accosted on the floor. And, I don't know... I figured you'd be thirsty, or hungry...." He suddenly felt nervous, as he gestured towards the tray. It was almost adorable, or perhaps was, seeing the masked man suddenly seeming shy.

He'd turn away, coughing slightly as if to clear his throat. A quick, steadying breath, before turning back to the scarlet haired beauty. "A proper introduction would be in order, I think. I am Ryn'Dhal. My friends call me Ryn." His melodic voice wove the words as if a music of their own, as he kept his eyes on hers. His stare, while quite intense, was genuine in its compassion and care. He watch her, her expressions, her emotions, doing the best he could to ensure he was not over-stepping bounds. The last he wanted to do was offend or push this new friend away, even before their friendship got off the ground.

[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

She did indeed notice his shift. She had learned a long time ago that personal space, in her business was not optional--it was a killer for business. She let her hand delicately wrap around his shoulder, her clear blue eyes locked on his with every word. He was nervous, she could tell. It actually--was somewhat cute.

How old was he? She wondered, he couldn't be that old then, or at least not that advanced in years in the galactic sense of the term. He, sure, may have been an adult, but as a child she was more seasoned in many areas than most beings ever reached in a lifespan. Was he that way? Or intentionally nieve? She knew she was an erotic dancer, in fact she knew what most everyone thought of her profession and most likely her as a person. She was indifferent.

What she truly was as well, was starving. She leaned in and grabbed a slice of cheese, teasing it between her lips. When dipped down, her already open shirt--opened more. It was not so much an accident as it was an intentional action. She shot him a sideways look that most beings considered allurring. It was time for her to speak again. She tired not to panic as she felt her throat tensing up. No, that could not do. She had to relax it, however his voice was so beautiful, she wished it sounded like his, instead of airy and soft.

"You are too kind," she managed to say in one go. Then she added, "Ryn."

She needed more time before she spoke, to gather herself. She let her scarlet lips curl in a sweet smile, teasing the cheese on them, "I am Mystique."

She used her stage name, the one everyone knew her by. She never used her real name anymore. Not since--She binked the idea away, playing off as a flirtatious batting of her eyelashes.

[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

As soon as she made physical contact with him, especially her arm across his back, he couldn't refrain from the involuntary flinch. He'd been getting better about physical contact, the flinch would have been imperceptible to those unused to abuse, though select few would recognize the response as being what it really was. His eyes maintained contact with her eyes and face though, even as she reached down to grab a piece of cheese. He'd smirk as she attempted to sway his attention, seemingly as if trying to gauge what his interest was. She'd likely get a start when she realized his attention never strayed away from her face. As lovely as her figure was, he couldn't help but find her face, in particular her eyes, more alluring.

Though, his general lack of interest in procreative activities was not like most sentient beings, and as such, he didn't get triggered like most creature. He would, however, come to the startling realization that she was not the only one who hungered. His stomach gave the tell-tale whine, as he blinked, quite honestly startled by the sound. "Well, Mystique... It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!" His eyes still gave off the obvious feel of a smile, as he too learned towards the table, grabbing the sealed container of water. "I can only speak from my personal experiences... But dancing, and similar strenuous activities, tends to leave me dehydrated... Room temperature water tends to rehydrate better than cold." He'd state plainly as he offered the bottle to her. His eyes would dance once, twice, and even a third time throughout to the tray of food in the interim. Ugh! This mask!!! He'd complain internally, pining for a slice of the meat upon that tray.

 

[Dancer]

She took the water bottle and teased it, sipping slowly. It was unattractive to guzzle water, even when completely dehydrated. The women at the Harem had taught her that her whole life. Even though he was right, she was parched, she needed to make it last, and drink it slowly.

She noticed his flinch on her touch. He was nervous, she thought. It amused her even more, twisting her crimson lips into a smile. This was amusing her. She knew his eyes were on hers, it was to be expected, not many beings were engineered to have eyes the unnatural color cyan, which clashed with her vibrant hair and albino skin.

Her free hand tenderly grabbed his gloved hand and drew it to her lips which matched her hair and kissed it delicately. Over his wrist she gave him a sweet and flirty look. She had to say something, she was pushing her luck this far. Under her cool and flirty exterior she was panicking. She had to talk, he wanted her to talk. Why couldn't her dancing be enough? Why couldn't her touches be enough? She wished she could be like him, like all the normal people and talk easy-like. It took all her effort to sound like she should, to not stutter or have her throat lock up.

"You are a perfect gentleman," she managed, her throat catching slightly on the last word. She managed a smile to hide it, then a sip of water. She was hoping, she was praying she was making him happy--pleasing him.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

It was that look.... not the look she wore.... but the look behind her eyes. He saw it. That all too familiar flicker. He'd seen it time and time again, among his fellow slaves back on Nar Shaddaa. That look of supplication. The pleading for being found satisfactory, to not be hurt for being less than what was expected. The pain that the faint flicker in her eyes wrought in him was worse than any he had felt in years. And that is including being shot, or even electrocuted by a Sith Lord. He felt tears threatening to sting his eyes.

"My... What..." He choked out, words catching in his throat. "What have you been through?" The pain was evident in his voice, as he reflexively reached a gloved hand towards her cheek gingerly. He, of course, faltered, his hand not coming close enough to touch her cheek. That look in her eyes called for the protector within him. It called for comfort. He couldn't imagine a lovely creature going through the same kind of hell he went through.

No... that's not true. He could imagine it. He'd witnessed it. Many times. He felt the pain he witnessed all those years before, burning in his chest. He felt the pain he endured, for the sake of others, burning across his skin. He shook his head slightly, his eyes now glistening when they locked on hers again. "Your eyes. They speak more than you do. You have the same.... the same haunting flicker.... You.... You are not here to please me...." He'd stammer, shaking his head again. "I came here, to be a comfort, a friend, to you."

 

[Dancer]

The former slave bit her lip softly. These words were--foreign to her. Someone here to help her? Someone who didn't want something form her? Someone who didn't want her to do something for them? That wasn't--


But of course. He was different. She realized. He wasn't like them. He didn't want her to do something for him and he was crying about it. He knew, somehow he knew. She didn't know if he was a former slave as well, or if he was a former slaver. She didn't know if he had liberated them before or if he was--she didn't know. She wasn't smart in the ways of the galaxy. At least not in those ways of how it worked. She knew what the grease was that made the gears turn, but she rarely knew what they turned--or what the gears were.

Mystique wrapped her arm around his head and shoulders, pulling Ryn to her in a warm hug. She pet the back of his cloaked head soothingly. She couldn't cry. Not now, not anymore. She had been desensitized to it. She couldn't weep for herself anymore, that just wasn't the way she felt. But he wanted to know, so she could tell him. Even how disturbing and sad it was.

"I was five years old when they attacked us," she said slowly, her airy and soft voice near his ear. "They killed my mothers, both of them in front of me. I was taken as a prisoner and sold to the Hutts. Due to my--" she paused and swallowed, "Both of my mothers had been award winning dancer; Dyla and Neronel. I was their child. The Hutts made me--" she had no words to describe it other than, "What I am. They made me into this."

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

She hugged him. He stiffened momentarily, before melting into the embrace. The stroking the back of his head helped to ease the situation as well. Then, she told him the horrors she went through.

As she finished, he'd lightly take her forearms in his gloved hands. Sitting up, his eyes locked on hers again. Sorrow was still clear in his eyes. "No one deserves the horrors the Hutts inflict." His voice was low. Soft. But cold. The faintest hints of a growl in his chest as he said it. A slight shake of his head, before offering a quick apology. "I.... I am sorry.... I hold no love for my former masters either...." He'd offer the tidbit of information freely. One former slave to another, behind closed doors, there was no need for keeping that secret.

"I.... Was born on Nar Shaddaa.... My parents.... I was either stolen from them, or sold by them.... I do not know which...." He'd say, his voice no more than a whisper. Just loud enough for Mystique to be able to hear. "I never knew them." His gaze trailed away from her, towards a mirror flush against the opposite wall. "I.... I don't even.... know what I am...." His gaze fell to his gloves, as he looked at the back of his hand, then the palm, and back again. "I've never found any mention really of a creature like myself.... Capable of what I am.... I...." He'd offer a weak attempt at a chuckle. "A freak...." His gaze turned back to Mystique, sad eyes locking onto her own. "We were sought for our rare, unique qualities. Each of us for our own unique exotic natures...."

 

[Dancer]

She smiled softy, her red lips curling in genuine amusement. Exotic was an understatement, and often what she was called. His touch felt good, even under the gloves it was tender and kind, not rushed not curl. She had come to be all too familiar with those attributes. He was clearly none of them. It made her feel--what was the word? She didn't know what it was called. She didn't even know what it was but what she did know was this; she felt like nothing and no one could ever hurt her when he touched her. When he looked at her, she knew she was unharmable. When he spoke, she knew that he wouldn't command but help.

"I know how it feels," she said reassuring, her voice clear of hitches and hickups, touching the mask, "they couldn't give me regular medical attention. I had to have everything grown when I got hurt."

She bit her lip. He had to be--she couldn't resist. Her other hand with its fingertips reached to the mask as well. Then she hesitated, "You don't have to hide from me. Its ok, I won't hurt you either."

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

As she's touch his mask, he'd smile slightly, as gently slide his fingers down he forearms, across her wrists, and along the length of her fingers, to guide her digits with a soft touch to the clasps of his mask. A nod, imperceptible visually, but noticeable to her due to her contact with him, would signify his permission to remove his mask. As she'd unclasp the mask, his fingers moved to hook the material wrapping about the back of his head and the cowl of his hood. The mask fell away into her open hands, as he drew the hood and covering back, his exaggerated ears would spring up, flicking slightly to relieve a cramp, before orienting on the girl. His feline features now in clear view, he'd offer a weak smile, and a shrug. "Ta-da?" He'd offer, awkwardly.

At that time he'd remove his gloves, revealing the soft fur on his face was also present on his hands, with each finger hiding a retracted claw, the tip of which was barely visible and discernible in their sheaths. And, while she would have likely been inspecting his hands, she'd notice movement around his waist. A peripheral observation would easily make one's mind strike the gutter with hurricane force, but a cursory glance would reveal that the 'belt' he seemed to have been wearing was, in fact, his tail! The tip of which was flicking slightly, before sliding to uncoil itself from about his waist.

"I know, I'm not what you expected under the mask.... But you can see why the Hutts took me. I'm a freak. An anomaly. I bring the crowds. I bring the credits." That soft smile, and his voice, now clear from distortion, held a definite musical quality to it. Almost supernaturally soothing.

 

[Dancer]

Mystique shook her head, her crimson curls shaking with them. He was no freak, she could tell in his face as well as his eyes that he was a kind person. It was all so clear, why he knew what she was like.

"If you think your a freak, you haven't been out much," she said wrinkling her nose in a rare moment of humor.

She followed the statement with a gentle kiss on his nose, it was soft and velvety, and his fur was soft too--she had imagined that things could be that soft when she slept in the cells under the Hutts. In the Harem the matrons and those who were special made love on beds that soft. Yes, even the ones she was forced to perform her duties on were little better than the stone slab and sheets she had to rest on at nights. She blinked the thought away and pursed her lips.

"Your not a freak," she said again, "Your kind. You are a good man. Your perfect."

Her eyes said the same thing, giving a warm shower of adoration.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

Had her eyes been as keen as his own, and had she known what to look for, she'd have noticed the fine, almost imperceptible shifting of the fur on his face. Particularly along his cheeks, just under his eyes. But, black fur helped conceal his version of a blush. Well, had his ears not given it away as well. His ears folded back slightly. Not all the way back in supplication, but back in a fashion that, when coupled with the shy smile he wore, it was obvious. He was blushing.

"I.... am glad.... That you think so." He'd say, his soft, melodic voice still soothing, even when riddled with bashfulness. He'd give a slight cough, trying to straighten his frazzled mind, given the circumstances. To try to alleviate the awkward shyness that came from being only 'half-hidden', the padawan would take the cloak and armored tunic off, setting them on a chair along with his mask. Revealing a soft black under-tunic, he still wore his reinforced padded armored pants, and boots. He seriously had a thing for the color black. Removing the lightsabers as well, one from each hip, he'd set them on either side of his mask. They were still close enough to be pulled should they been needed, but far enough away that he would be possessing no weapons aside from those he was born with in proximity of the woman.

Turning the face Mystique once more, Ryn would pour each of them a glass of the crisp, cool water, setting her's near her on the table. Yes, she still had her bottle, but she should be rehydrated enough to not be harmed by consuming colder water. These motions though, would reveal the scars he bore, the upper reaches of them poking out just slightly from various points at the shoulders of his sleeveless tunic. The scars were bold, easily noticeable, as his pale skin shown bright through his dark fur.

Not even noticing that he was revealing his scars, the remaining ties to his horrible past, Ryn offered a warm smile, his sharp canine fangs visible in the action, thought they did not seem threatening in the slightest. "I would hazard to say, though, I still find your words to be far too kind. More than I deserve." He'd give a bow of his head to the woman, before taking a seat again, resting back against the arm and back of the loveseat.

 

[Dancer]

The lady watched as he blushed and bit her lip, suppressing a giggle. It truly was adorable, she had to say. Her eyes twinkled in playful enjoyment. She had seen many many beings blush before her, but this was one that she actually enjoyed. Though she couldn't figure out why.

She watched him discard his outer clothing--armor most likely she thought, gauging by the way it looked heavy and cumbersome. She felt a tremor when she saw the weapons, but felt more at ease when they were resting away from her. She hated violence. She hate it to bits. But he looked like he had seen much of it, judging by the lines on his fur--scars, she guessed again. There had been many on him. But the Hutts, she knew, were not kind to those who they kept as "toys" and "property." She was fortunate that she was too valuable without scars to receive this treatment.

When he laid back she took her drink and curled up next to him, resting on his chest. Yes, he was warm, and he was soft. He was like a warm, gentle blanket, she thought, rubbing her cheek on his chest before pulling a sip from her water. Her legs curled up behind her as she rested her total weight on him--trusting. Kind, and trusting.

"Where did you get those?" she asked looking up at his golden eyes, curious, "was that the Hutts? Or was it after your freedom?"

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

He tensed for just a moment, before relaxing as she seemed to melt into him. His arm slowly wrapped about her shoulders, as the two cuddled on the sofa. She ran a finger along a scar at his shoulder, as she asked, concern plain across her face. "I was entertainment. I danced. I sang. I worked. And I bled. They took as much pleasure in my screams as they did my songs." He' slowly shook his head, a rare, stray bang falling before his right eye. "Most of my marks, weren't intended for me, but others. Others less able to endure the pain." He'd offer a slight shrug.

His gaze shifted back towards his lightsabers, considering her initial reaction when her first removed them. He'd gesture a hand, willing the Force down the length of his arm, out to the saber. The device began to levitate, held in the grip in the Force. Lifting the device, he began to shift the components about, opening the device, moving the emitter out of the way, and drawing the crystal from the core of the device. The remaining husk of the weapon was slowly lowered back onto the pile of robes, and with a subtle gesture, the crystal began to drift towards the two on the sofa.

Into his outstretched palm the crystal would land, and holding it before Mystique, the padawan would offer a slight smile. "My focusing Crystal, for one of my two lightsabers. This one is from Balance. The other, it's twin in almost every respect, is Order." He'd watch her expressions, before offering the crystal for her to hold and look at. The crystals surface was irregular, but ideally shaped for grabbing and redirecting light. It seemed to glow with it's own inner fire, a cool, soothing, silver glow. Purifying, if you will.

"I sought these, to make my sabers. I sought my sabers, not to fight. Not to kill. But to protect. To preserve life." That soft smile remained on his face, as he looked, with almost the same level of compassion and affection as he had gazed at the scarlet haired woman who was resting against his chest at that moment. "I protected, as best as I could, even as a slave. Now, that I am free, I am only that much more able."

 

[Dancer]

Her eyes watched with a sense of awe. The weapons had made her uncomfortable but seeing the pretty jewels come from them was purely amazing. She had never seen anyone do anything like that before--no, wait she had things similar. Men and women who had performed shows, who had done things in a crowd. Some of them had been amazing, making things move and do their bidding by thought alone and the wave of a hand.

She looked the crystals over in her hands. They were certainly pretty. Very elegant, she had always thought gems were gorgeous, perhaps because she was allowed to touch so few. She gazed at them from every angle, it was truly dazzling. Her awestruck eyes looked back up.

"Your--magic," she breathed out at last with childlike innocence.

She knew that he was a good man, and she knew now as well that he was a good and dear friend.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

The padawan couldn't refrain from laughing. It too, was almost musical in nature. "No, not necessarily magic, but I would say... gifted." His smile was still soft, and ever so warm, those golden pools more than inviting to rest a while and listen to whatever it was he had to say. "There is.... I really do not know the most accurate way to describe it.... But this.... energy? Perhaps? Whatever an individual may wish to identify it as, it is known universally as the Force." He'd say, as he levitated a small berry from the tray with a gentle gesture, motioning it towards the two of them, and then with a playful grin. "Here, open up!" He'd suggest in that cheerful manner. If she did so, he'd gently place the fruit upon her tongue.

"The Force.... If one is born with a sensitivity to it, like I was, they can learn to do.... well.... nearly anything they put their minds to." He'd continue, smiling as he brought over a thinly sliced, rolled piece of meat to himself. "This, that I am doing, is a simpler task, but not a parlor trick I do regularly or freely. It seems almost an insult to do any mundane task through such a manner." He'd say, his smile taking on a more sheepish feel.

"I've seen, and experienced, individuals doing some of the most amazing things with the Force." Ryn's eyes moved towards the far wall, growing distant. "I've also experienced some of the most terrible...." He'd absently rub an area on his chest, near Mystique's shoulder, before continuing after a shake of his head. "There are good, and bad, people in this universe. And as such, there are good, and evil, practitioners...."