Yeah. And they might be, eventually; that's entirely the sort of thing he'd do.

She sends her presence swirling more clearly around him, infused with what comfort she can offer; it's obvious that it takes some effort, but she can keep it up for a little while.

It lifts the weight off him, softens his mind. He manages to relax.

that's...thank you. for that.

A note of satisfaction, almost pride, colors the comforting presence, briefly strengthening it.

Are you - okay otherwise? Enough food, room temperature's okay, that kinda thing?

He reflects her pride back at her automatically.

yeah. it's boring, but fine.

i guess if i'm suffering in here it's less effective out there.

Yeah, exactly. I can... book... she's got the concepts, but she's having trouble putting them in any kind of grammatical order - but here's a visualization of the room he's in, showing where the camera that he'd have to hide any contraband from is, and here's an image of a droid - one of the flimsier feminine ones that bring his meals, not the sort that assist with the torture - and a sense that she can be instructed to bring him things and trusted not to tell anyone about it.

Risky for you, if he catches you, but.

Oh. He sends his understanding.

what's 'risky', here? worse than it'd be anyway?

Yeah.

Well, you might enjoy it. Don't think he has a masochist protocol yet. But - if he knows how to hurt him, he will; that's the sort of person he is.

He takes a second to process this information.

...he's already getting there. with the stuff from today.

it's going to be bad.

Yeah, it is. She swirls around him again, worried now.

I'll be here if I can but I can't... promise anything. Even if I keep holding on they might send me out anytime.

thank you. for trying, i mean.

i really don't want to be alone.

Yeah. The swirl is weakening, noticeably, but she keeps it up.

If I'm here, I can always hear you, even if I can't talk. If you reach out, at least.

okay.

He tries to hold onto her presence as long as he can.

She stays, quietly, for another half hour, her swirl of presence dissolving slowly into wisps and eventually dissipating entirely.

She seems a little stronger, the next night.

nothing happened today.

- not a good sign.

yeah. thought not.

i keep...going over everything that could happen. i can't stop.

Yeah.

She pulls him into a meditation, again:

Peace is a lie. There is only Passion. Nothing is ever still; nothing is ever empty. There is always something to have feelings about.

Through Passion I gain Strength. Those feelings give direction, focus, purpose -

Through Strength I gain Power. - and that purpose is the base on which one builds effectiveness.

Through Power I gain Victory. Effectiveness is for getting the things you want, and the things you need.

Through Victory my chains are Broken. Having the power to get what you want and need is true freedom.

The Force shall free me. A Sith's effectiveness is their power in the Force - and, half-broken as she is, she's still strong in it. All she needs is the right opening, and then, yes, it will free her. Him, too.

He follows her through it. It's enough to keep him stable.

He echoes the words back to her, follows the concepts with images of his own, of stowing away on a mineral cargo ship off a lonely backwater planet and crawling out of his hiding place freezing and half-starved and telling the men there that they never saw him and then surviving.

You did good. Sometimes there's someone stronger but that's not your fault.

yeah.

and when we get out i'll keep going. you will too.

He thinks "when" with conviction.

Yeah.

Hope you get along with DZ, she's coming too. The droid, from before; the trustworthy one.

...droids are good. i think i'll probably like her.

Making plans makes it a lot easier to forget what's actually happening.

She's a sweetie.

I'm not - sure - whether they're people. I think so. I plan to keep her and not wipe her and find out. And be good to her if she is; it's important to be good to someone when you're raising them.

i think you're right. they always seemed like it to me.

He shows her an image of the one they had helping around the house when he was growing up, trying badly to hum while peeling potatoes.

Awwww.

DZ doesn't sing but she likes when I recite poetry, I think.