I Know Something About Pain You Don't

Tahiri had gotten back from the gym after watching Leto teach Ben how to use those flying blades to find a message waiting for her. It wasn't, as she'd initially thought, another query about the Yuuzhan Vong approach to a situation -- just a brief and perfectly innocuous note to ask how she was doing. She'd had an open-ended invitation to stay with Han and Leia for a while if she hadn't come to Fandom, so she didn't blame them for checking up on her.

She sat down cross-legged on her bed and sent off a quick reply (yes, school was fine, yes, she was doing better, yes, she was sure the librarian who looked like Han wasn't another evil cousin of his), knowing that the vagueness of her messages probably wasn't doing much to reassure them that really, she was inching towards okay.

Meanwhile, she was still pretty worn out, and it definitely wasn't helping that the general level of frustration on the island hadn't abated any; it kept leaking past all the mental blocks she could put up, and it was driving her crazy. Crazy enough to try something. She'd told Ben last night that thinking like a Yuuzhan Vong made her forget who she was. It was true, but it was an oversimplification: all she had to do was think like a Yuuzhan Vong and she was one for as long as she could stand it.

But, she reasoned, daring to think it through in concrete terms for the first time, the Yuuzhan Vong couldn't be felt through the Force, didn't seem to exist in it. Mezhaan Kwaad had captured and shaped her so the Yuuzhan Vong would have a Force-wielder on their side. If she let herself give in to that for long enough, could she at least shut out everyone's frustration for a little while?

( She'd always been impulsive; she decided to give it a try. )

Well, it had worked for a little while there, but she didn't think it was worth the effort. She'd take the headache instead, thanks.

[OOC: Establishy (*looks shifty*), but while the door is not open, the post is. Note to self for broadcast: to all intents and purposes it looks like she's meditating. HEY LOOK I FINALLY GET TO USE THIS ICON.]

Tahiri had contemplated, briefly, checking out the cop convention, but decided against it in the end, opting for a handwavey workout in the gym instead before returning to her room. She'd promised Firekeeper that she'd try and get a hold of a copy of some of Master Tionne's ballads, after all (not that Tionne was technically a Master yet but she'd been Tahiri's teacher for years because somebody got chronology mixed up, oops) -- it might be a little difficult, since last she'd heard they'd been somewhere in the Deep Core, but she'd try anyway.

Added to the list of Things to Not Write Home About Ever: Dear Master Skywalker, I know what a dork you were as a teenager. Also, please don't ever flirt with me again. It was disturbing.

[OOC: For the roomie, but also open! May be a bit of SP as I relocate from Panera to the other coffee shop but other than that I am arouuuuuuuuuuund.]

The new message that had beeped upon arrival on Tahiri's datapad, shortly after she returned from a long handwavey day of walking up and down the beach (sand beneath her feet was much more fun when accompanied by lapping waves), had proved to be less exciting and more dull than anything else -- it was from Tekli, checking up on her, and laden with questions geared toward figuring out what her state of mind was like these days.

For all that she could talk nonstop, Tahiri found she had far less patience with written words and stared absently at the screen, drumming her fingers against the edge of the datapad as she only half devoted any thought at all toward a response.

More of her attention was focused on the objects on her nightstand as she randomly levitated them into the air with the Force, trying to make them spin around each other in opposing circles.

[OOC: Door cracked, post open, woo. Will be a bit slow around 6:30 PST while I cook dinner, but around.]

Tahiri had to admit one thing: her first week of school, for all that it was light years different from the Jedi Praxeum, hadn't been at all uneventful. From the people she'd met on the shuttle coming over -- including the teenage version of the Masters Skywalker's infant son! -- to her roommate, and Firekeeper, and a different version of Jaina, and some of the other students, to the strange things that passed for fauna on this island, it had definitely been an adventure. Classes had . . . well, they were definitely going to be useful, even the one taught by Anakin's namesake, all impossibly alive and non-Sith-y, and she still had no idea how that had happened.

That part, she decided as she lay on her stomach on her bed, fingers tapping on the datapad in front of her, she was definitely leaving out of her report home to Master Tionne.

Occasionally she caught herself giving the datapad strange looks, as if there was something fundamentally wrong with it. But this had so far been an adventure, definitely, though not the same as the kind she'd used to have -- for more reasons than just the fact that her best friend wouldn't be around to share them again.

Not something she wanted to think about right now; yesterday had been pretty much entirely lost to moping over it as it was.

[OOC: Open, particularly for the roomie but the door's knockable. This may actually even be a linkdrop if I get around to it. I know, I'm shocked too.]