Fond??????

Ok, so maybe Isk was right. 

...He should not ask the apparently friendly Sith for help with control. Even if she does seem to be pretty good at it. Every single Jedi he's ever met would be aghast at him for even considering it. 

...Kark them.

"I don't know how to use the dark side. It's too much. I'm going to hurt someone I don't want to." He swallows, "If I stay... Will you help?" 

Oh, she likes him. Her grin widens a little, and her presence in the Force loosens up, relaxing. "Yeah, I can do that. What are we starting from?"

He relaxes a bit more, too. 

"I don't know how much you know about Jedi training," he says. "I was a Padawan for a year and a half. A lot of what I learned then, and as an Initiate, isn't really useful. Some of the tricks, the lightsaber forms... Nothing really powerful. It all relies on being calm. If I try to use those techniques now I draw on the dark side instead.

"I did figure out how to make fire, though," he adds. "I... use it when I lose control." He flexes his fingers. He can't feel the burns, but he knows they're there.

She nods. "Never used an explicitly dark technique to kill someone, though - don't, if you can help it, it'll make everything worse. Anything the Jedi taught you how to do is fine, fire's fine, lightning isn't. Have you ever killed someone you wouldn't've wanted to if you were calm?"

He nods along. 

"No," he says. "I... might not have actually killed them if I'd been calm, though. Just wanted to. 

"I've come close a few times, but everyone I've killed deserved it, I think." The droid shop owner, who was installing a restraining bolt on Isk when he got to the shop. The slimy smuggler he got the ship off of, who'd taken his old ship, sold it, and then tried to kill him so he could steal back the one he'd offered in exchange. Some thugs and creeps, here and there, who thought a fourteen-year-old human on his own would make an easy mark. And the shopkeeper just now. He's always calmed down or gotten away before anyone could provoke him into hurting them while in a rage. 

She nods. "Still matters. You're steering; that's good. Show me your 'saber?"

His hand moves to cover it. 

After a moment, he nods, removing it carefully from its improvised holster, buckled tightly around it.

Once he has it in hand, he activates it. Its blade shines a pale blue, somehow more diffuse than others. It's attuned to him, but... oddly weak. 

"It's a Padawan blade," he says after it's lit. "Limited, and only one crystal." 

She seems put off, not by him, but by the blade, when he activates it. His explanation has her nodding, though. "Not doing you any favors - I don't know how kybers do with mixing, but we can figure something out. I don't - most Sith don't know you can make a blade like that."

"They're good for training," he says. "You're less likely to cut your hand off if you make a mistake. I'd have problems if I tried to fight anyone with a full powered blade, though," he admits. "I should remake it to be more powerful, yeah." 

"I have stuff," she nods. She can't seem to take her eyes off the blade, though she doesn't seem threatened, more unnerved, disbelieving. "That's not - I'd known Jedi were - wrong... it's something else to see it."

He glances down, twirling his saber once, and then shrugs, shutting it off. "Padawan sabers don't really make it to my list of complaints," he says, wry. 

She settles back into herself when he turns the blade off, and pats her own, open-handed, reassuring herself that it's there, intact.

"Tell me? I've heard rumors, but I've never met a Jedi."

"...It's hard to put it all into words." 

"The Order is... cold. Strict. So focused on turning Padawans and Initiates into Jedi that they forget that there are people, beneath that title. They often ignore that individual people exist in general, actually. The needs of the Republic outweigh the suffering of smaller groups. They insist that they're compassionate, but their actions don't match that insistence. 

"I'm... not built like that. I can't see someone suffering and just... keep walking. 

"My instructors often told me I would fall, if I didn't learn to control my temper, to look to the bigger picture. Some of them expected it." 

There's that fondness again, stronger this time.

"I don't think Sith and Jedi use that word the same way - falling. It wouldn't be safe for you to be around Sith, that way - too easy to manipulate, too likely to attack someone you shouldn't. Too light. For most Sith."

"So'm I."

He blinks at her. Too light? 

"...Like a starlit night from the depths of a cave. I suppose," he says after a moment. 

...It does make him feel better to hear her describe herself as 'too light' as well. She's... not nearly as terrifying as he was expecting. 

"How do Sith mean it?" He asks. 

"We don't use the term, mostly. But- too far gone into the Force, the way we use it; lost in that rage. Not a problem you have, I think."

"Not yet, anyway." Hopefully not ever. 

"Hopefully never. But it's fixable even if it does happen, if you still want to. Just takes a while."

He nods. It's... good to know that even if he goes too far, there's still a way back. 

He shifts on his feet a bit, and then pauses, glancing down at his shoulder. It doesn't hurt, but it feels... 

He focuses his senses on it, wincing.

"...What does a lifeforce transfer... entail, exactly?"

"I'll need some time to prepare for it, I'm not exactly in practice. There's a cot inside, if you want to keep the pain block while I go over my notes."

"I mean, what does it mean? What will you be doing? I could just go with kolto instead." Even if being confined in a kolto tank sounds awful. 

"I'm not sure we have enough shared vocabulary - I expect it's a lot like Jedi healing, from your end. I'll be weaker for a little while afterward, but it won't be a problem unless your Jedi is right behind you."

He grimaces, "I have no idea how close behind me he is." He shakes his head, "I'll just take the kolto, if you really can get a tank." 

She nods. "If you don't mind taking me to the city."