"I see, the strong help the strong around here," she scowled, staying in her fetal position for a moment longer. To be exact, it was less than ten seconds longer. She imagined being a burned crust wouldn't help climbing up the wall a kriffin' half mile. Standing, she stared at the wall, pressing a button on her wrist to retract her space-suit helmet to her neck.
"Let's not get spark-happy, I'm going, I'm going," thumb brushed along her nose as her back remained to the mysterious, masked leader, @[member="Ashin Varanin"]. The young and out of place Fringer sure had enough fear to fuel her emotions through the force. Shooting @[member="Faenrovon The Radiant"] one last cautionary glance, she pushed off the ground, hoping the next time scaly fell he wouldn't take her down with him.
"You could've stayed on Corellia and been the second best gorram mechanic on the South side." She reached for another hold, the invisible, magical thing known as the force fueling her muscles and breathing. Part of it felt so natural, it was scary. She didn't like it. This whole exercise was beginning to feel like a gateway drug. "Coulda followed in mom's footsteps and become a political leader," she scowled.
Hand. Hand.
Foot. Foot.
Hand. Foot. Hand.
"Coulda been hangin' with Hannibal and discussin' bounty stats, but nooooooooooooo, you had to let Shorn get to you. Force this and force that, power, power, power. Wonder if my sister ever did anything this stupid."
Foot. Foot.