Gurney Devries
Jul 25th, 2001, 12:12:26 AM
The air in the cramped little apartment was both heavy and musky, much like it's sole occupant. The lingering scent of incense added still clung to the room like a fading memory that kept forcing it's way to the surface. It was a quiet comfort for the man who lived there, now sitting by his window. He was alone now, which meant that he had the freedom to unwind, a privilege he indulged in not nearly enough.
His Jedi robes were piled unceremoniously on the floor next to him, one end caught on the leg of the chair he now sat in. If he had noticed, however, then it didn't seem to bother him in the least. To a certain extent, he like wearing the robes: they were comfortable, and moreover, they gave him a peace of mind when in public. But when he was alone, he usually opted to go about in his skintight black jumper. It allowed him unrestricted freedom of movement: An almost unconscious yet obvious choice, for a former combat instructor.
Yet... even that wasn't a factor in his choice of clothes at the moment: Unhindered movement wasn't a great concern when one wasn't moving. Instead, he just sat quietly in his chair, facing the shaded window across from him. The filtered moonlight played across his floor in short bars, broken up by the window blinds. Each bar of soft light stopped just short of the chair he now sat in, as he had intended them to. Sometimes, he wished that he wasn't so damned good at predicting things. He had always thought that it was just a part of his training; It was, after all, one of the things he was conditioned to do. But when he began to feel the subtle nudges of the Force... it took the process to a whole other level. He never got glimpses of the future, per sé. But his ability to predict, to second guess what other people were thinking and doing... it had reached a plane that sometimes scared him with it's accuracy. And with a mental grimace, he silently wished that he had paid more attention to it earlier.
Bowing his head, Gurney turned away from the window, a look of shame creasing his features. Yes, he'd always been like that, hadn't he? Able to figure out a situation to the very last detail, but never following his own quiet advice.
He lifted one hand, motioning to the counter at his side. Something on it's surface trembled, but otherwise remained motionless. He frowned, trying again to manipulate the Force. This time, the holopad lifted a few inches into the air and began to float slowly towards him. It's path to him was jerky, and it dropped almost to the point of touching the floor, but he managed to get it in his hand before that. He'd need a good deal more work before he'd ever be able to put the ability to a practical application, he thought bitterly to himself. He had seen Jedi lift entire ships without so much as breaking a sweat, and he couldn't so much as lift a datapad across the room. Great.
Somewhere in his head, a little voice told him not to turn it on; Not to keep doing this to himself. But it was the voice of reason, and Gurney had become quite accustomed to ignoring it. No, the paradox here lay in the concept that he could only gain comfort at the expense of pain. With a slight push of his thumb, he flicked the holopad to the On position. Obediently, the projector sprung to life. And Gurney found himself flooded with a wave of emotions.
The image was about 1/4 of it's life-sized counterpart, and tinted a light shade of blue like all holo recordings. It was only a couple of seconds long, and flickered whenever it looped back to the beginning. Gurney watched it over and over, tears welling up in his eyes with each viewing. The recording was of a woman, dressed in elaborate gown. She was dancing, all by herself. The recording didn't have any sound, and so it gave the impression that she was dancing in total silence. Which she had been, when it was taken. She was always that type of person. Someone who would hear music where there was only silence; Who could see a portrait where there was only empty canvass.
He started to cry then. Not a wailing sob, or even a convulsive shuddering. But tears streaked his cheeks, all the same. His muscles began to slack, and he dropped the holopad on the floor. It landed sideways, continuing to play it's recording at the tilted angle. And Gurney Devries, battle hardened combat veteran, buried his face in his hands and cried.
<img src=http://renegade.clanhappy.com/gurney.jpg>
His Jedi robes were piled unceremoniously on the floor next to him, one end caught on the leg of the chair he now sat in. If he had noticed, however, then it didn't seem to bother him in the least. To a certain extent, he like wearing the robes: they were comfortable, and moreover, they gave him a peace of mind when in public. But when he was alone, he usually opted to go about in his skintight black jumper. It allowed him unrestricted freedom of movement: An almost unconscious yet obvious choice, for a former combat instructor.
Yet... even that wasn't a factor in his choice of clothes at the moment: Unhindered movement wasn't a great concern when one wasn't moving. Instead, he just sat quietly in his chair, facing the shaded window across from him. The filtered moonlight played across his floor in short bars, broken up by the window blinds. Each bar of soft light stopped just short of the chair he now sat in, as he had intended them to. Sometimes, he wished that he wasn't so damned good at predicting things. He had always thought that it was just a part of his training; It was, after all, one of the things he was conditioned to do. But when he began to feel the subtle nudges of the Force... it took the process to a whole other level. He never got glimpses of the future, per sé. But his ability to predict, to second guess what other people were thinking and doing... it had reached a plane that sometimes scared him with it's accuracy. And with a mental grimace, he silently wished that he had paid more attention to it earlier.
Bowing his head, Gurney turned away from the window, a look of shame creasing his features. Yes, he'd always been like that, hadn't he? Able to figure out a situation to the very last detail, but never following his own quiet advice.
He lifted one hand, motioning to the counter at his side. Something on it's surface trembled, but otherwise remained motionless. He frowned, trying again to manipulate the Force. This time, the holopad lifted a few inches into the air and began to float slowly towards him. It's path to him was jerky, and it dropped almost to the point of touching the floor, but he managed to get it in his hand before that. He'd need a good deal more work before he'd ever be able to put the ability to a practical application, he thought bitterly to himself. He had seen Jedi lift entire ships without so much as breaking a sweat, and he couldn't so much as lift a datapad across the room. Great.
Somewhere in his head, a little voice told him not to turn it on; Not to keep doing this to himself. But it was the voice of reason, and Gurney had become quite accustomed to ignoring it. No, the paradox here lay in the concept that he could only gain comfort at the expense of pain. With a slight push of his thumb, he flicked the holopad to the On position. Obediently, the projector sprung to life. And Gurney found himself flooded with a wave of emotions.
The image was about 1/4 of it's life-sized counterpart, and tinted a light shade of blue like all holo recordings. It was only a couple of seconds long, and flickered whenever it looped back to the beginning. Gurney watched it over and over, tears welling up in his eyes with each viewing. The recording was of a woman, dressed in elaborate gown. She was dancing, all by herself. The recording didn't have any sound, and so it gave the impression that she was dancing in total silence. Which she had been, when it was taken. She was always that type of person. Someone who would hear music where there was only silence; Who could see a portrait where there was only empty canvass.
He started to cry then. Not a wailing sob, or even a convulsive shuddering. But tears streaked his cheeks, all the same. His muscles began to slack, and he dropped the holopad on the floor. It landed sideways, continuing to play it's recording at the tilted angle. And Gurney Devries, battle hardened combat veteran, buried his face in his hands and cried.
<img src=http://renegade.clanhappy.com/gurney.jpg>