09-01-2016, 07:29 PM
Marcus listened, mind seizing on each word, holding it up, examining every facet, every permutation. There was a...cadence to Ascendancy's voice, the register deeper and quieter. Contemplative. He drew a bottle to him, as if viewing the action from the perspective of a person without the Force. Godlike indeed. Immortal. The word called to him, a sweet siren song.
Malik stirred at the thought. It was not a vain dream. This man was in his 60's and yet appeared in his 30s. The potential there. If holding the Force itself did not make one immortal, then perhaps there was another way.
But Ascendancy went on, that tone continuing, as if he were trapped somewhere in his mind.
Projection. Ascendancy was not merely imagining, extrapolating. Imagining affected speech, halting and sped up one after the other, as the mouth struggled to keep up with the mind as it spilled forth, overflowing the brim, and then paused as it waited, for the mind to continue its computations and speculation, for the cup to slowly fill again.
This was methodical, a man at a well, patiently turning the windlass to bring the cool bucket up from the depths below. It was mining a vein of gold or silver.
"I don't remember...."
The projection confirmed.
Marcus' eyes widened in surprise, unable to keep himself from interjecting. "You were one of them,"
he said with a touch of awe. Of course. Extrapolation made that clear. They had hunted him for over 40 years. He had been one of them.
Knowledge seemed to emanate from this man and Marcus hungered to pry it out of him.
Malik stirred at the thought. It was not a vain dream. This man was in his 60's and yet appeared in his 30s. The potential there. If holding the Force itself did not make one immortal, then perhaps there was another way.
But Ascendancy went on, that tone continuing, as if he were trapped somewhere in his mind.
Projection. Ascendancy was not merely imagining, extrapolating. Imagining affected speech, halting and sped up one after the other, as the mouth struggled to keep up with the mind as it spilled forth, overflowing the brim, and then paused as it waited, for the mind to continue its computations and speculation, for the cup to slowly fill again.
This was methodical, a man at a well, patiently turning the windlass to bring the cool bucket up from the depths below. It was mining a vein of gold or silver.
"I don't remember...."
The projection confirmed.
Marcus' eyes widened in surprise, unable to keep himself from interjecting. "You were one of them,"
he said with a touch of awe. Of course. Extrapolation made that clear. They had hunted him for over 40 years. He had been one of them.
Knowledge seemed to emanate from this man and Marcus hungered to pry it out of him.