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Author	Topic: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 7/7 Thanks for the Nominations!! [hugs]
jedidas3 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 6/9 10:46am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/5 (Quick poll added 6/6)
	Well done! As for length of your post, that is totally up to you. My posts are usually about 6-7 pages long when printed out, if that gives you a reference. Good luck in whatever you decided and I'm looking forward to more! -----signature----- The Past Revisited http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28440949 Lessons Learned http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28580784 Remembrance http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28009025 Padawan to dianethx
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/11 9:32am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9 - Date Edited: 6/11 9:46am (1 edits total) Edited By: Jedi_Perigrine
	I promised you guys an early update, so here it is! Enjoy the last short chapter in the second book! I think I'll let you stew until next Monday for the start of the third book, unless you need it. I'll shut up now... here you go! _______________________________ It had to happen someday, Matris reasoned. She still couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down her face as the bacta drained from Wilch’s tank. Plort shared almost the same emotions. He forced himself to smile through his jumble of emotions and draped a very long arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close for a crushingly tight, supportive hug. **** Matris stared at Wilch’s body as it lay motionlessly on the hospital bed. A thin but warm white sheet covered the terrible scars that would never heal. In spite of all that had happened and how much she had wanted Wilch out of the bacta tank, it was decidedly bizarre to see him outside of it. But the bacta had done all that it could. As Wilch’s eyes fluttered open for the first time in almost six months, turning Matris’ steady drip of tears turned into a torrent. Speaking past the knot in her throat was one of the most difficult things she had ever done. “Good morning, Sunshine,” she said. “How do ye feel?” Wilch blinked and as he tested his body functions, he discovered that closing his eyes was about the only motion that didn’t cause fiery pain across his whole upper body. He saw Plort, standing beside the radiant figure of Matris. His lungs burned agonizingly with the depth of the breath he tried to take. “Ter-“ he started before wracking coughs prevented him from continuing. Each cough hurt him more than the first. After a moment and he could concentrate again, he touched the Force and did his best to mute the agony. He saw the sympathy in their eyes and knew they were trying to appreciate how much pain he was in. Their faces told him not to speak if it hurt that much, but he had to. “Terrible,” he whispered finally. Matris’ tears continued and Plort’s sadness was palpable. Despite the feeling of tearing flesh on the right side of his face as he tried to smile through an apparent scar, he sent them both a burst of affection through the Force. With a body that had barely moved in so long, the concentration it took to move his arm felt more like he was a tortured puppet connected to a drunken marionette. It took all of his willpower and a little help from the Force, but he managed to reach Matris’ hand and take it. His fingers didn’t close right, but he wasn’t worried. The Force told him that his hands would work again, though perhaps not perfectly, given enough time. “But I feel...alive.” The softly whispered admission was coupled with an intense feeling of love that gushed into Matris, suffusing her with intimate warmth. The depth of the emotion was multiplied by his knowledge of the Force. Wilch could tell instantly how much more sure of herself she was, and how much she had learned of the Force however long it had been since he dropped unconscious. While he was in his coma, he knew only one thing—that she was nearby. That more than anything had made him realize instantly upon waking, that she was going to be one of the most important parts of his life until the Force claimed him. Matris smiled happily past the tears and returned his sending of love through her fledgeling ability with the Force. This wasn’t the happy ending I was hoping for, she told herself. Or even a happy beginning. But as long as I’m with him, the future will be as bright as a Corellian sunrise. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 6/11 10:20am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	That was lovely. I'm glad that Wilch is going to survive. It sounds like a long road to recovery though. Good thing he has friends and loved ones with him. Good job. Sorry I haven't been commenting. RL.... -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/08 Fragments of Illusion- http://boards.theforce.net/bts/b10475/28456473 updated 8/16/08 Freeze frame - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b10476/27820434 Master to jedidas3 Impeach Bush!
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jedidas3 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 6/12 5:40am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	Glad to see Wilch is recovering! Wonderful job with this story! -----signature----- The Past Revisited http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28440949 Lessons Learned http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28580784 Remembrance http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28009025 Padawan to dianethx
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/12 12:09pm Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	dianethx posted: That was lovely. I'm glad that Wilch is going to survive. It sounds like a long road to recovery though. Good thing he has friends and loved ones with him. Good job. Yeah his recovery isn't going to be pretty but it will be easier thanks to his friends. He's got a whole new life to look forward to! jedidas3 posted: Glad to see Wilch is recovering! Wonderful job with this story! Thanks a lot Just thought I'd mention that the next episode of Jedi Rising in the Before the Saga thread will be written by yours truly. Check it out if you have a chance! -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 6/12 1:19pm Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	Wonderful. Your writing has a lyrical beauty and yet it is powerful at the same time. Great work! “But I feel...alive.” The softly whispered admission was coupled with an intense feeling of love that gushed into Matris, suffusing her with intimate warmth. The depth of the emotion was multiplied by his knowledge of the Force. Wilch could tell instantly how much more sure of herself she was, and how much she had learned of the Force however long it had been since he dropped unconscious. While he was in his coma, he knew only one thing—that she was nearby. That more than anything had made him realize instantly upon waking, that she was going to be one of the most important parts of his life until the Force claimed him. -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/13 9:06am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	VaderLVR64 posted: Wonderful. Your writing has a lyrical beauty and yet it is powerful at the same time. Great work! “But I feel...alive.” The softly whispered admission was coupled with an intense feeling of love that gushed into Matris, suffusing her with intimate warmth. The depth of the emotion was multiplied by his knowledge of the Force. Wilch could tell instantly how much more sure of herself she was, and how much she had learned of the Force however long it had been since he dropped unconscious. While he was in his coma, he knew only one thing—that she was nearby. That more than anything had made him realize instantly upon waking, that she was going to be one of the most important parts of his life until the Force claimed him. Awwwww MammaV... you're so sweet, thank you! I somewhat try to get a lyrical effect; I'm sure many authors do it, but the one I occasionaly try to emulate is S.P. Somtow. He has an interesting style of writing that, even though he mostly writes horror, I enjoy reading. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/16 8:23am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/9
	Here's the next chapter in Wilch and friends story! It's going to be a long recovery period... _____________________ Rehab is about as pleasant as walking on hot coals while juggling lightsabers and having vibroblades twisting around inside your innards, Wilch thought to himself, mustering his strength. No, that’s not it either. Rehab is about as enjoyable as bashing your head against a sharp corner of a huge building while being shot with sniper rifles at point blank range and- He lost all semblance of concentration as agony ripped through his entire upper body when he tried to move in the portable torture machine. He sat on his moderately comfortable hospital bed; all he had to do was lift a one kilogram weight bar, using both hands, from on top of his legs up to his chest. He had been out of his coma for almost a week now, but muscles that had been unused in six months weren’t ready to cooperate to that extent. Wilch was as weak as a newborn and he hated it. When he combined his weakness with the crackling, tearing pull of skin that had been crispified and seemingly frozen into place, it was almost more than he could stand. And speaking of standing, he could just now do that on his own. The physicians were amazed at his miraculous recovery so far—it was usually several weeks before coma patients could stand on their own after so long a time being incapacitated. What they didn’t know was that he was a former Jedi. While his strength with the Force in matter manipulation was relatively weak, it was still strong enough to allow him to add to muscle power and stand on his own. In time he would be able to reduce the amount of his weight the Force held up, significantly decreasing the time where he would be reliant on other people... and the damn torture chamber they called a physiotherapy machine. Plort made sure Wilch didn’t draw on the Force to move his upper body, however. It was less of a concern that it would hinder the progress of his recovery; more, the Ithorian was worried that the physicians would become suspicious of the human’s impossibly rapid healing. While Wilch would be hard pressed to agree under current circumstances: namely suffering debilitating pain, the former Jedi knew that their survival could well hinge completely on complete anonymity. “Lift!” the MD droid intoned, a mockery of supportiveness. “Once you can walk a good distance and lift this bar ten times, the doctors perhaps will let you go home.” With a quick, subtle glance at his friend, he let a trickle of Force energy in, hoping to avoid notice. “Wilch!” The Ithorian said, drawing the syllable of his name out, eyes hooded in an overly dramatic warning. “Damn it,” he mumbled under his breath. He hated that Plort always found a way to come to the physiotherapy sessions. Knowing he could be discharged for such simple actions, he redoubled his body’s efforts. The intense burning that had ignited seemingly all the muscles of his upper body simultaneously were far too reminiscent of the plasma-fire that he had been engulfed in six months ago. Back then, he had been fortunate enough to drop unconscious immediately. No such luck now. As he raised the impossibly heavy bar, centimeter by centimeter, his skin still felt dried out and like charcoaled flimsplast; like it threatened to slough off his bare chest and arms. Every time Wilch looked down at his torso he expected to see blackened, burnt skin. It still amazed him that no matter how much it felt crusty, his skin was actually stark white, with swirls tinged red from the scarring burn remnants. Bacta was a wonderful thing. Concentrating on making his arms obey was difficult. It seemed particularly insulting to Wilch that after all those years of moving around so easily, now he could barely lift his arms at all, even without the puny added weight. Fingers that had once been deft at rapid datapad entry were now stiff and functioned only moderately. Yet even that recovery was astoundingly fast and owed to Wilch’s steady attempts at regaining functionality. His abdominal muscles were similarly atrophied, so that even sitting up without anything supporting his back was difficult. Where he could do hundreds of situps and crunches prior to his immolation, now found him sweating unbelievably to do more than one. When he didn’t have visitors or nurses prodding him, he flexed his arms and legs as best he could, or strained mightily to sit up, or one of a hundred other exercises that a two year old could do without thinking about it. When Plort or Matris were by his side, he spent the time wiggling his fingers, trying to regain their initial dexterity while they talked. And when he was completely exhausted from moving his body, that’s when he let himself ride the river of the Force. That connection had grown, at least moderately. Wilch felt that his telekinesis strength had improved. Though even most young Padawans had the ability with the Force to lift human body-mass weights with relative ease, that was something he never had the facility to do. But now, he wanted another chance to catch Matris, to pitch her back into a tree. Like he couldn’t do back on Ithor. Now he felt like he could control her fall at least a little better, though he still wasn’t strong enough to keep her aloft. All the while he was musing, lost in his own thoughts, he was fighting the agony of his muscles as they slowly twitched upwards. Pain of a milder sort crept along his chest as the shock of the cold metal exercise bar finally touched just above his pectoral muscles. “Very good, Wilch. That’s one.” The droid’s tinny voice, programmed to be reassuring and empathetic came across as metallic and hollow. The medical droid had no idea how close Wilch had come to destroying it with the crushing power of the Force, during the more painful moments of Wilch’s physiotherapy. With much straining and concentration, the former Jedi managed to lower the bar back to his knees as he sat the same hospital bed. “Try another,” the droid coached, dumbly following its limited programming. Wilch found it hard not to throw the words of Master Yoda back at it. In his mind, he said the litany to himself anyway. There is no try. Do or do not. After another full minute of all-encompassing effort, Wilch raised the weight again. It was hard not to just let his muscles slacken and the bar drop heavily onto his lap, but every ounce of strength he could muster, he poured into control. “If you can do one more, I will let you visit the hospital garden.” The droid’s impersonal nature couldn’t have possibly been programmed to realize how much of a motivator this would be. After an encouraging nod from Plort, Wilch put his whole body to the task. Minutes later, he had succeeded. “Excellent.” It droned. “When you are ready I will call for a hoverchair.” The Ithorian was pleased. He put his wide hand on Wilch’s shoulder and took the bar away from him with such damnable ease. “I’m ready now,” Wilch answered immediately, flexing his fingers as best he could. A kilogram was more weight than his hands had handled in a very long time. His digits were sore and cramping, though that was still insignificant compared to the burning throb that still permeated his entire upper body. The former Jedi was embarrassed that he wouldn’t be able to walk out of the room on his own yet. Even though he was far ahead of the curve, considering rehabilitation from such grievous wounds, Wilch wasn’t pleased with his progress. He wanted to be released. He wanted to be able to go back with Matris to live with her in the small apartment she had secured for them. With more patience and his strength of will, he would be headed home soon, he just knew it. “I know you’re tired of hearing it Wilch, but I’m proud of you for all you’ve managed to accomplish.” The human shot his friend an exasperated look. “I’d still rather be out of here. I’m glad for your company but the view doesn’t change much around here.” Plort smiled. “A lesser man would have given up at least once, by now. I’ve never felt any resignation from you.” “Other men weren’t J-“ “Yes they were,” the Ithorian interrupted, overriding the dreaded Jedi word from being spoken. “I helped the healers for a time. After injuries a little less critical than yours, it took a very strong person to overcome their loss and try to rebuild what they once had. Sentients whose names you would be amazed to hear mentioned in the same sentence as ‘self pitying’ or ‘weeping’. Wilch pictured Mace Windu or Qui-Gon Jinn…weeping out of self pity. The image was completely preposterous. He almost laughed until he realized he had conjured a name he thought he had buried deep. Qui-Gon. Wilch had never been close friends with the recalcitrant Jedi Master, but superficially at least, they had a great deal in common; their height and age, for one thing. Their unflappable belief in the Force, for another. Many Jedi seemed to disagree with the two men’s points of view on the Force. But where Wilch filtered the Force through a keen intellect and the Jedi Code before acting, Qui-Gon seemed to surrender completely to whatever whims the Force would present. That was the focus of their last, catastrophic conversation that had cut off any communication between the two. It might have been the straw that broke the dewback’s back and sundered a friendship completely. The horrible pain that followed those thoughts had nothing to do with sore muscles. Until he could stow the thoughts back into the unvisited corners of his mind, Wilch was hard-pressed to say which hurt more. Qui-Gon’s name had brought Wilch to his first brown study since the battle. But Matris’ timely arrival dispelled his sudden depression instantly, as if by magic. “How’s our weightlifter doing?” She asked warmly, coming to sit on the side of his bed, taking his hand. Matris had been wonderful to him the entire time he had been stuck in the infirmary. It seemed she spent more time by his side than she did at her new job with Bespin’s mining company. She was a tinkerer and a daring pilot by trade, so her fiddling with one of the mining ships in an impromptu meeting had impressed the Bothan engineering supervisor greatly. From what Matris said, she was well on her way to becoming a mid-level engineer despite being employed for less than a week. “We were just going to the hospital garden,” Plort announced proudly. With a raise of her curious eyebrow she looked at Wilch who answered the unvoiced question. “Of course you can come. I’m sure you’ll be the most beautiful thing in the garden.” Plort snickered and rolled his eyes theatrically. At the same time, Matris snorted loudly. “Well if I wasn’t as attractive as a bunch of dead weeds, I’d be hopping in me ship and hypering out of here.” She gave his hand an appreciative squeeze as her blue eyes twinkled with subdued merriment. The talk was small as the chair finally arrived and the three sentients plus one droid meandered to the garden. With hasty assurance that they would keep Wilch under control, the droid found itself suddenly dismissed and able to continue on with other high-priority tasks. Bright blossoms of every shape and color were expertly maintained. The sweet scent of the flowers was almost strong enough to cover the obnoxious stench of antisceptics. Here, Wilch felt he could really relax. Together, the three meditated, feeling the life of the garden and the hope that it engendered. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 6/16 9:11am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/16
	I liked the description of the rehab. Having gone through rehab for a broken leg, I'm sure Wilch's wounds made it even more difficult. Good job. -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/08 Fragments of Illusion- http://boards.theforce.net/bts/b10475/28456473 updated 8/16/08 Freeze frame - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b10476/27820434 Master to jedidas3 Impeach Bush!
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/19 7:58am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/16
	dianethx posted: I liked the description of the rehab. Having gone through rehab for a broken leg, I'm sure Wilch's wounds made it even more difficult. Good job. Ouch! Despite many surgeries, I've never had to deal with rehab. All I've got is my wife's and grandmother's tales of how "fun" it was. But poor Wilch really got roasted. He's lucky to still be around and he knows it! Thanks for reading! Now, on with the show! ______________________________ Three agonizing days later, Wilch had managed to complete enough repetitions with his weight-bar and walk far enough that the medical droids were satisfied with his progression. Provided he would come to the infirmary regularly, Wilch was free to go home after a final check up from the Twi’lek physician. “Astonishing!” he proclaimed. “Are you sure I can’t use your case for a burn-treatment article for my medical journal?” The naked greed on his blue-tinged face was comical in its intensity. “I’ll leave out your name. I’ll change your species!” “Sorry, but no.” Wilch had to make sure they maintained as low of a profile as possible. There couldn’t be any chance that someone might find the former Jedi’s trails, even one as insignificant as unlabeled medical records. “I’ll buy you a ship!” Matris burst into a fit of the giggles. She already had two ships, and one of them, the Corellian Corvette, was in use by the Tibanna mining company for transporting workers to and from the job site. The money she received in rent payments every week was almost enough to live off of. Matris’ own employment was more to keep her mind active than anything else, though the added credits didn’t hurt. Her bank accounts were growing pleasantly. “No, Doctor, but we appreciate your offer.” He obviously wasn’t pleased, but he signed the release flimsies anyway. Despite riding in loaned the hoverchair, Wilch was exhausted by the time they reached the apartment. As the door whisked open, he was pleased to see that Matris had decorated conservatively. A brown comfortable-looking smoothly covered couch sat against one wall with a large window above the back of it. Two matching chairs were arrayed neatly around a clear caf-table on a brushed metal tripod stand. The last piece of furniture in the living area was barely recognizable as a chair, yet somehow its meaning was made clear as Plort sat down into it with a very pleased sigh. “Welcome home, Wilch. As you can see, your friend helped at least partially with the decorating.” With his eyes closed and his mouths grinning widely, Plort’s announcement of, “Most comfortable chair in the galaxy,” was completely believable. “And yet the hairless idiot still lives in a completely empty studio apartment. I told ye I’d buy ye another one of these chairs.” Plort opened his eyes and leaned forward in objection. “Hey it’s not completely empty. There’s a pillow! And a blanket. And a whole bunch of clothes.” “That I bought for ye. Still no food in your cooling unit, I’d bet.” Matris’ grin was twistedly amused. The Ithorian’s sheepish grin was answer enough. “Hey I get all the vegetables I want at work. I’m stuffed silly from the moment I arrive at the farm to the moment I leave. If I ate at home I’d be eight thousand kilos!” “Blasted farmers,” she teased. “I don’t think it’s possible to get fat off vegetables.” The warm feeling deep in his chest had nothing to do with his burns. His two companions had grown into a very strong friendship while he was out of the picture, and that took a little strain off his shoulders. Strain he didn’t know he was baring. “Speaking of food,” Wilch interrupted. “I would love something to eat.” Matris grinned, pleased. “A healthy appetite is always a good sign.”” “I bet it’s a universal truth that hospital food tastes like the north end of a south-bound bantha,” Wilch said. “Who says my cooking will be any better?” Her sarcasm wasn’t very reassuring. “Hey, if I have to use the Force to help you cook properly I will. As soon as I’m better, I’ll cook for everybody.” “Then ye better get better quickly before I kill us all.” She wrapped one arm around his shoulders from behind and gave him a very familiar hug. Despite the blinding pain the pressure caused, he leaned into it contentedly. “But before I do that, let me finish the tour. Over here is the master bedroom. The bed is as comfortable as the salesbeing promised. I thought the black nightstand added a lot of character and fit in with the headboard nicely. Matches me dresser too.” Matris was quite proud of herself for her fit of interior decorating. Big bright windows let the brilliant sun’s rays through, illuminating the room’s plain white walls pleasantly. “In here is the second bedroom, your room,” she said, guiding them across the hallway to a smaller but still cozy room. Even more windows made it seem homey. Though there was no nightstand or headboard, the bed looked exactly like Matris’ had. Compared to the stiff hospital bed, it looked like a heaven. “We’ll get ye some clothes to fill that dresser with. I got some for ye already, but I didn’t know yer size and who knows if yer gonna gain weight and get fat on me.” Wilch sensed that she would have rather have him sleep in her bed, but he was touched by her consideration for his feelings. “’Fresher’s around the corner on your side of the hall, storage room is across from that. I bought a safe and put yer lightsaber in it. I offered to put Plort’s in there, but he wouldn’t have it.” “That’s because they wouldn’t fit!” he called back from the living room, still ensconced in his chair. “There’s only room for a dozen or so inside. Especially with all the contracts and flimsplasts she’s got in there.” Before he could ask her about the other contracts, she forestalled him. “I put your name as the primary owner of the Corvette that the CEC gave me. I have the Fire and I can’t imagine trading the little freighter in for that passenger hunk’a junk.” Matris smiled teasingly. “So technically all the money I’ve made is yours.” “I don’t care about that,” Wilch answered, getting hungrier and more tired as he thought about earning money on his own. The Temple had provided everything he had ever needed. It was going to seem strange earning a living. “That doesn’t surprise me. But at least ye know about it. I…” It was decidedly odd to hear Matris’ tentativity. “I hope ye don’t mind that we’re sharing an apartment. It was cheaper than getting two smaller ones and I had hoped…” Wilch ignored the igniting muscles as he reached—well, more like flailed—for her hand. “It’s fine, Matris, really. I told you I was willing to try being with you and that hasn’t changed in the ten minutes it’s been since I got home.” Her face lit up with a radiant smile, and her warm blue eyes twinkled with suppressed emotion. “And neither has my hunger. Are you going to cook something or do I have to start nibbling on your wrist?” Matris laughed, a lilting sound that raised Wilch’s spirits. “I heard a Tatooine moisture farmer once say that a woman’s place is in the kitchen with scant clothing on, barefoot, and with child.” Plort’s booming voice teased. Astonishment at the sheer backward-thinking statement was plain as the two humans walked by, their jaws practically agape with shock that any self respecting Ithorian would even repeat that. “I think we need to cut you off from the cantina,” Wilch retorted after he took a moment to regather his wits. Plort waved his huge hands in a ‘don’t blame me, I’m the messenger’ gesture. The sly grin on his face belied his innocence. “Hunk of nerf steak?” Matris offered the vegetarian Ithorian, waving a piece of raw meat on the end of a long fork. She laughed heartily at the shade of green his brown skin took on. Plort stayed to watch Wilch eat his half-cooked meat like a starving man. Matris was right, her cooking wasn’t the best, but it was still much better than anything the hospital had ever served him. Very shortly after Wilch’s plate was mostly empty, he made a stop at the ‘fresher and bade the two goodnight. He was overly exhausted, but assured the two that he could take care of himself and get in bed without assistance. Together, Matris and Plort shared some meditation and the simple exercises that the Ithorian had taught earlier. He admonished her for trying to get out of practicing her Force powers. Both of their moods had improved greatly in the hours since Wilch had come home. Finally things were starting to look up for the three of them after six months of uncertainty. Claiming farmer’s hours and an early start in the morning, Plort left. Matris’ day was scheduled to start shortly after the Ithorian’s, but she spent a good hour standing in the doorway of his room, watching Wilch sleep. He hardly moved at all, and her heart ached, wondering if it was because he didn’t move in his sleep in the past, or because now he couldn’t. His mouth was open slightly and he snored very softly. Unable to help herself, she went into his room and kissed his forehead gently, fearing to wake him. She needn’t have worried. He slept on like a rock. With a tear of happiness still sliding down her cheek, Matris closed the door to her room. Contented sleep came very quickly. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 6/20 6:38am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/19
	You've got a real knack for OCs, and they can be tricky little suckers! Your characters are multi-dimensional, which makes them interesting even when they annoy us! “I heard a Tatooine moisture farmer once say that a woman’s place is in the kitchen with scant clothing on, barefoot, and with child.” Plort’s booming voice teased. Astonishment at the sheer backward-thinking statement was plain as the two humans walked by, their jaws practically agape with shock that any self respecting Ithorian would even repeat that. “I think we need to cut you off from the cantina,” Wilch retorted after he took a moment to regather his wits. Plort waved his huge hands in a ‘don’t blame me, I’m the messenger’ gesture. The sly grin on his face belied his innocence. That reminds me of a joke my middle son told me. I won't repeat it here. Wonderful work! -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 6/20 2:26pm Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/19
	That was sweet. Wilch has a long road ahead of him with all those wounds. Good thing he has friends to help him out. LOL on Plort's eating habits. Good job. -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/08 Fragments of Illusion- http://boards.theforce.net/bts/b10475/28456473 updated 8/16/08 Freeze frame - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b10476/27820434 Master to jedidas3 Impeach Bush!
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jedidas3 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 6/23 4:42am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/19
	A very nice post. It is a good thing that Wilch has his friends...I have a feeling that he will need them. -----signature----- The Past Revisited http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28440949 Lessons Learned http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28580784 Remembrance http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28009025 Padawan to dianethx
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/23 8:13am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/19
	Hi MammaV. Thanks very much for the compliments on my OCs, Master. In my mind, it doesn't seem right to play with canon characters so much...what if I get them wrong? What if nobody likes the direction I take them? But with OCs, I can do whatever I want. I can make them drooling idiots and the reader has to accept that! Diane: Yeah there's always a vegetarian out there where you least expect them! I can tell you one thing, it ain't me. BRING ON THE NERF! Er...not the foamy stuff--the meat. Thanks for reading! Jedidas3: Yes he will. But everything happens for a reason. Everybody needs their friends! I appreciate your comments! Now, without further rambling on my part, here's the next post! _____________________________________________ Wilch stumbled out of bed, many hours later. Bypassing the hoverchair for now, he walked unsteadily to the kitchen. There was a large bowl of bright, unpeeled fruit and a note for him. Wilch, I have a long day ahead of me. On the other side of this flimsplast is a list of contacts for food delivery. Feel free to get whatever you want. Please don’t cook anything. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love, Matris He grinned, looking at the stylus that was next to the note. The ‘L’ had been started, crossed out, started again, and crossed out once more. She apparently had agonized whether to close with "Love." Wilch was glad she did. Even though he knew he couldn’t honestly say he returned her love yet, knowing that she still cared for him deeply warmed his heart. Wilch spent the first few hours of his time alone doing the recommended exercises, trying to return his worthless muscles to usable ones. It was still a painful process, but the more he worked, the less he hurt. Finally free to use whatever Force assistance he chose, the exercises were more beneficial, and much less painful. After an intense workout, he collapsed to the ground, exhausted again. With a great deal of effort he sat up and meditated, losing his consciousness to the gentle whims of the Force. His visions were nonsensical, yet strangely comforting and he came back to the present feeling refreshed and relaxed. Again he ran himself through the droid-recommended muscle-strengthening drills, doing his best to work every muscle in his body. When he had finished for the second time, he was sweating profusely and completely out of breath, not to mention excruciatingly sore. As he relaxed in the warm water shower, his muscles unknotted slightly. It was a good hour he spent underneath the massaging stream of water. Wilch was half-surprised that the pressure of the droplets on his skin didn’t hurt. He hoped to have his normal sensitivity back soon so that every time Matris touched him, he didn’t flinch away in pain. He could sense that she was quickly going to get frustrated with her inability to touch him. That would come, in time. As would other things. Remembering their first kiss in the Corellian Fire’s cockpit, Wilch’s cheeks grew hot. He stopped that strangely uncomfortable memory, embarrassed, as he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in six months. Tufts of stubble had grown on the left side of his face. Apparently the fire had cauterized all his follicles on the right side. There was no droid in sight to shave him this time, so he took care of that himself. With gentle fingers he slid along the right of his square jawline, feeling the way the syntheskin had conformed to his face and covered over what had to be a disfiguring injury. He still didn’t look completely healed. A round base of very white flesh narrowed as it went further up his face, coming to a curving point aimed at his right eyebrow. It looked as if he had a large white talon on his face, the base infused along his jaw line, and the point of the claw aimed at his right eye. His neck was many shades of red and white, and that pattern trailed the rest of the way down his torso, more syntheskin merging with actual flesh, which left odd burn patterns and stitching scars in various places around his body. Wilch understood that his muscles atrophied from lack of use, despite certain medical techniques that would decrease their loss, but to see himself looking so puny was very rather disturbing. He had never been particularly well-built, but the lack of any definition at all in his physique was disheartening. He vowed that he would increase the amount of physical exercise he did in hopes of returning to the fitness level he maintained as a Padawan learner. His stomach was rounded and flabby, even though his food intake had been greatly decreased. Legs that had taken him on treks dozens of kilometers long through jungle worlds would now just barely carry him into the next room. Shaking his head, he put on some clean clothes. Loose fitting black pants and a similarly cut green shirt were enough to cover him, though very unstylishly. In his dresser amongst the rainbow array of colors, there was an unholy orange shirt that surely Plort must have picked out as a joke. Despite the likelihood of it being an amusing choice, the orange only reminded him of the flames he wore over six months ago. He felt the phantom pains of searing hot tendrils and the momentary horror of the extreme heat before he quickly focused his mind back to the present and cleared his thoughts. Knowing it would be good to go outside, he suffered through the pain of putting his boots on, deciding it wasn’t worth it this time to don socks. Wilch stared at his hoverchair for a couple of minutes, despising it, yet accepting the wisdom of having it handy. It would be very embarrassing to get stuck somewhere and rely on a stranger to get him back home. Assuming they didn’t mug him. Well, they could mug him all they like, he thought to himself. I have nothing to steal. Wilch settled into the blasted thing, arranging himself for the greatest comfort. After making sure the apartment door locks would let him back in, he and his chair hummed around the large apartment unit, breathing the fresh outdoor air. He shook his head, happy to breathe clean oxygen that hadn’t been recycled a million times. Glancing up at his apartment’s tower, he saw that it was a good twelve stories high, with at least ten apartments on each level. Whatever material it was made of was a dull metallic gray, which blended in with almost everything else in sight. Other towers were visible down both ways of a main street, each seemingly made by the same hand, yet having a slightly different architectural background as if someone wanted to give the superficial impression of diversity. Only a few speeders plodded along in the ten minutes he spent scooting around, and usually it was parents carrying families with three or more children, likely on errands of some sort; they must be traveling from one end of the mining colony to the other. He was a little puzzled that he didn’t sense more life around his own apartment, sentient or otherwise, until he realized that this was a brand new section of Cloud City. Here and there was debris left over from construction crews; durocrete, binding strips, chunks of miscellaneous metal and all kinds of wiring. Likely, Matris and Plort were the first two sentients to live here. Perhaps Bespin was having some trouble attracting workers, despite the excellent wages Plort claimed to make. Wilch shook his head. They needed to add a lot more landscaping to the area, otherwise nobody would want to live here. Since Plort worked in the gardens, Wilch decided he would see about getting something to spruce up his apartment. If the plants would grow at home, then he’d see about maybe improving the rest of his new neighborhood. A whim took him to the next apartment down the block. As he rounded a corner, he was startled to see a small, bird-like sentient clothed only in her own feathers, playing with a ball. Not sure if it was a male or a female, Wilch was fairly sure he or she was a youth. The child threw the ball up, watching it with total concentration. One light blue-skinned, three-fingered hand was raised up as if holding the ball aloft while the other was balled up into a fist at their hip. Dark, forward facing eyes sat above a beak-like mouth with tufts of freshly growing, dull gray feather-like coverings coating torso and long limbed arms and reverse articulated legs. It was a full moment before he recognized the species. “A Mrlssi?” he muttered, shocked. The child’s head whipped around and looked at him, completely startled. Three seconds later, the ball dropped as if finally succumbing to gravity. With a very avian chirp of surprise, the child ran off with blinding speed. Thin but powerful legs propelled the child at almost Jedi velocity. As if it was of its own volition, the ball zipped off after her. “I won’t hurt you!” he called out after her, sensing her gender the end of her drawing on the Force. As the young Mrlssi girl and her ball vanished around the corner behind a non-descript gray building, Wilch shook his head. He didn’t know why she ran, although the more he thought about it, the more he’d be likely to be startled by a creepy guy with a scarred face, hovering around his neighborhood. Even though he knew she probably wouldn’t come back, he felt the need to stay nearby. With significant effort, he struggled out of the chair and sat on the sidewalk in a meditative pose, allowing himself to feel the Force flowing around him. The child had the spark of life, and a powerful halo of the Force within her, there could be no doubt of that. If she were indeed Mrlssi--and to Wilch there was little real doubt--he guessed that put her somewhere about three to four standard years old. But by Mrlssi standards, she would be an adolescent, with highly developed cognitive skills. Like many birds in the galaxy, Mrlssi grew and matured very quickly. She would reach reproductive age in another year or two. By age eight to ten, she could have assimilated as much education as an eighteen year old human, and be just as mature, if not more so. If he remembered correctly, their lifespans were on par with ordinary humans as well, averaging in the eighties. There she was. Wilch smiled, sensing the girl quite a distance away, her bright eyes peeking around a distant building, watching him with keen eyesight. In her, he sensed curiosity, and no small amount of trepidation. Knowing very well that she could see him, he used the Force to scan the area for something he could use. There wasn’t much, but he found a chunk of durocrete that hadn’t been cleaned away after construction had completed. It weighed a good ten kilograms, but his growing facility with the Force made the mass seem less than it used to. As the oblong chunk floated towards him, he held out his hand as if to hold the durocrete. Realizing he couldn’t hold it up with his arms frustrated the peaceful aura he was trying to maintain, but he banished that very quickly, knowing how important it would be to project a calm demeanor. He levitated the rock for a long time, pretending to pass it back and forth between his stiff arms. When he could hold it no more, he set it down in front of him. She was too far away for him to make out any kind of details, but he felt it when she levitated her ball. Curiosity was still foremost on her mind and the slight fear was becoming even less. Wilch had to keep her going. He smiled as warmly as he could, then hefted the rock with the Force again. He felt her pleasure. Indecision seemed to war within her as her curiosity grew, but she glanced up at the swiftly setting sun and that seemed to make her mind up. She didn’t seem to have a choice. Apparently she needed to be somewhere before sunset. Wilch twisted around and physically made note of the sun’s position. He nodded again in understanding. He wasn’t sure how he’d contact the girl again. When a strange image of the sun rising over this very area of the city popped into his mind, he nearly fell over. She's using the Force to plant images into my head! He was immediately concerned about the Dark Side applications, but he sensed no malignant intent in her. The girl was becoming more nervous as she skimmed his own shallow trepidation, so he mentally cleared his mind and returned the mental picture with one change. Wilch tried to guess where the sun would be in the late morning, and telepathically sent that image back. The Mrlssi returned the image to him, as if in confirmation. She startled the still air with a piercing shrill that sent at least four dozen previously unseen rawwks stampeding into the air with similar raucous calls. The leather-winged mammals followed the little sentient, pacing her with familiarity as she raced off to who-knew-where. Suddenly left alone and facing the oncoming darkness, Wilch tried to stand. Muscles screamed objections. It was a surprise that he had forgotten about them while he was occupied with the girl. Pain shot through his entire body as he did his best to stand. The first attempt failed, but with a heave, he struggled to his feet and lurched into his hoverchair. Sweating from the effort of controlling cramped, weak muscles, he caught his breath before heading back to his apartment. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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jedidas3 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 6/23 10:22am Subject: RE: "Preservation" OCs, Yoda, Qui-Gon--Updated 6/23
	Be careful Wilch! Nice update...a nice treat for an otherwise tedious morning. -----signature----- The Past Revisited http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28440949 Lessons Learned http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28580784 Remembrance http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28009025 Padawan to dianethx
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