[no lies here, this is a pretty absurd situation. in another light, it would even be kind of comical. that's why Luke can't really bring himself to sound very worked up about the whole affair; rather, the voice broadcasted across the network sounds uncomfortable, awkward.
if you're going to tackle the bantha in the room, you might as well go full-throttle.]
Do we know who's keeping these records? I mean, I get why we need them. Between the weather and the... wildlife [if that's what you call shadow monsters,] it makes a lot of sense to keep track of who's with us and who isn't. We did something similar back where I was stationed for the same reasons.
[and here's where his frown becomes a little tighter, the indignant tones seeping out whether he likes it or now.] Thing is, they're not gonna help anyone if they keep being so inaccurate.
[but... what if that's the point? maybe it's some sort of intimidation game? a means of spreading distrust through false information? it seems like a dirty enough low to stoop to for whoever's keeping them here.]
...Maybe we should start our own. If anyone else with their name on the list is still alive, er— [the tightness loosens. the side of Luke's mouth curls up into a crooked little smile.] Raise your hand?
ACTION #3
[well, there are worse places to be stuck in. at least this time he can be grateful that he's in an actual building with basic insulation as opposed to some frozen, hollowed-out shack. considering what happened the last time he got himself lost in the middle of a blizzard, he's been practically privileged so far — and hey, he's still right-side up with both feet firmly on the ground. no ice caves, no wampas. so far so good, right?
there's not much to look at in here, and what little there is only serves to poke and needle at Luke's curiosity in ways he's not so certain are good. it's barren, practically spartan in design, which brings all sorts of imagery and words to mind, most of them negative. prison, punishment. the stained glass etchings only pull these impressions into a more concrete realm. figures of people are arranged in colorful patterns, most if not all of them wearing the same grave masks of quiet misery. even with the minimalist designs, Luke still feels something reproachful from their eyes so he tries to stop his own from lingering for too long. he doesn't need another reason to shiver.
he moves to take a seat on one of the empty benches, shifting a little as he settles in. a temple, then? it would certainly seem so, but it's not like any he's ever seen before. even the most modest shrines have something going for them, be it from religious symbols or whatever meager tributes they amass from their congregation. regardless, you can feel something when you enter one of those. it's an atmosphere, an emotion. it's not quite palpable in the sense that you can reach out and touch it, but it's still there.
it's funny. he's never been very religious. now, though...
Luke flexes his fingers. now he's not quite sure what he is. enlightened, he supposes? or maybe a better way to put it would be "awakened". it's getting to be strange how the most dreamlike qualities of his life are starting to feel more real than the parts that are grounded. it really is like stepping into a larger world; like living life inside a windowless house and discovering for the very first time that things exist outside. that's what he likens his training to: like having to learn what a cloud is and trying to pull it down into something more tangible, raw.
he stares down at his hands, thinking hard. it's quiet enough in here to meditate. maybe... maybe if he concentrates hard enough—
taking a big, deep breath, Luke closes his eyes and tentatively raises his left hand, palm open, fingers stretched. his breathing slows, controlled with the perfect deliberation Yoda has stressed time and again in their exercises. in his mind's eye, he imagines the legs of the pew he's sitting on and wills them to budge.
an inch. just one inch and then he'll know that he's not completely cut off from home, from everyone he's left behind, from the heartbeat of the galaxy itself.]
luke skywalker ( star wars )
[no lies here, this is a pretty absurd situation. in another light, it would even be kind of comical. that's why Luke can't really bring himself to sound very worked up about the whole affair; rather, the voice broadcasted across the network sounds uncomfortable, awkward.
if you're going to tackle the bantha in the room, you might as well go full-throttle.]
Do we know who's keeping these records? I mean, I get why we need them. Between the weather and the... wildlife [if that's what you call shadow monsters,] it makes a lot of sense to keep track of who's with us and who isn't. We did something similar back where I was stationed for the same reasons.
[and here's where his frown becomes a little tighter, the indignant tones seeping out whether he likes it or now.] Thing is, they're not gonna help anyone if they keep being so inaccurate.
[but... what if that's the point? maybe it's some sort of intimidation game? a means of spreading distrust through false information? it seems like a dirty enough low to stoop to for whoever's keeping them here.]
...Maybe we should start our own. If anyone else with their name on the list is still alive, er— [the tightness loosens. the side of Luke's mouth curls up into a crooked little smile.] Raise your hand?
ACTION #3
[well, there are worse places to be stuck in. at least this time he can be grateful that he's in an actual building with basic insulation as opposed to some frozen, hollowed-out shack. considering what happened the last time he got himself lost in the middle of a blizzard, he's been practically privileged so far — and hey, he's still right-side up with both feet firmly on the ground. no ice caves, no wampas. so far so good, right?
there's not much to look at in here, and what little there is only serves to poke and needle at Luke's curiosity in ways he's not so certain are good. it's barren, practically spartan in design, which brings all sorts of imagery and words to mind, most of them negative. prison, punishment. the stained glass etchings only pull these impressions into a more concrete realm. figures of people are arranged in colorful patterns, most if not all of them wearing the same grave masks of quiet misery. even with the minimalist designs, Luke still feels something reproachful from their eyes so he tries to stop his own from lingering for too long. he doesn't need another reason to shiver.
he moves to take a seat on one of the empty benches, shifting a little as he settles in. a temple, then? it would certainly seem so, but it's not like any he's ever seen before. even the most modest shrines have something going for them, be it from religious symbols or whatever meager tributes they amass from their congregation. regardless, you can feel something when you enter one of those. it's an atmosphere, an emotion. it's not quite palpable in the sense that you can reach out and touch it, but it's still there.
it's funny. he's never been very religious. now, though...
Luke flexes his fingers. now he's not quite sure what he is. enlightened, he supposes? or maybe a better way to put it would be "awakened". it's getting to be strange how the most dreamlike qualities of his life are starting to feel more real than the parts that are grounded. it really is like stepping into a larger world; like living life inside a windowless house and discovering for the very first time that things exist outside. that's what he likens his training to: like having to learn what a cloud is and trying to pull it down into something more tangible, raw.
he stares down at his hands, thinking hard. it's quiet enough in here to meditate. maybe... maybe if he concentrates hard enough—
taking a big, deep breath, Luke closes his eyes and tentatively raises his left hand, palm open, fingers stretched. his breathing slows, controlled with the perfect deliberation Yoda has stressed time and again in their exercises. in his mind's eye, he imagines the legs of the pew he's sitting on and wills them to budge.
an inch. just one inch and then he'll know that he's not completely cut off from home, from everyone he's left behind, from the heartbeat of the galaxy itself.]