[Well, Star Wars physics would never lie to me, so seems settled.
"I've got your back," she says, and there's a blink-and-you'll-miss it little quick of his brows in response, a curious cant of his head back her way. Like that's more of an actual promise than he'd expected to hear from her. (No offense intended—for all she reminds him of Beau she doesn't know him from anyone, and he isn't used to being offered trust or kindness by rote.) But he's not arguing, all circumstances considered. A little bemused, though not unappreciative—]
...Thank you.
[Huh. The little off-beats passes, though, as quickly as it happens. Bigger things to deal with, y'know. So—cool. Lets do this. He steps as close to the Force-bubble she's maintaining as he dares to be sure he's in range. Plants his feet and hefts his blade in his hand but raises a hand in the direction of the offending vines, instead. His tone regains its brusque edge.]
Alright, lets light 'er up.
[The spell manifests in a sharp crackle of electricity at his temples, ozone buzzing around him before gathering at his fingers in a shock of blue energy, arcing its way over the shield and into the vine in a flash, like a thunderbolt. But rather than flickering out, the arc sustains there like a jacob's ladder—one end in his fist and one striking at the vine—like he's holding it steady. And he can't keep it up indefinitely, but he doesn't have to. Doesn't take much, after the initial strike causes the vines to smoke and steam, for the plants to start to smolder.]
[They don't know each other but they're fighting the same fight, on the same side, and if the war between the First Order and the Resistance has taught her anything it's that that matters. Any Resistance member is her ally, so shouldn't that mean that anyone fighting these vines and plants for the good of the whole city is also her ally?
For now, it does. When the fight is over, if he shows signs that he can't be trusted, then that can be reevaluated. It wouldn't even be the first time she put her trust in someone who didn't deserve it, but there's a feeling to this man that tells her that won't be the case. She can hope, anyway, and as he moves forward she focuses her will on the Force, imagines it creating a glass ball around them and keeping them safe.
The severed vine lashes, more acid splatters against the bubble, useless. A sense of pride in her accomplishment wells inside her, but right along with it comes the dull ache in knowing Luke will never see this, her budding mastery.
But they have a job to do here, and that lightning is absolutely more than enough to keep her attention when he calls it down. She whistles, impressed, and when she sees the first hint of a red glow, of fire, she can't help a satisfied grin.]
[The fleshy bits of the vine smoke and smolder...and soon enough they split, and steam, and char. Catch aflame. The movement of the vine itself gets weaker and sluggish as it burns, lashing out less violently, throwing less goopy sap their way as the moisture in it turns to steam and the white of it turns black. He lowers his hand as the spell runs out, and the electric crackle of energy fizzles around him.
He rocks back on his heels as it becomes clear the vines are burning, slowing, out of range. The buildings around here aren't made of wood—mostly metal, and stone, and something he can't identify but he'll assume won't catch enough to set the block aflame. So, he looks back toward Rey, and gives her a pleased cock of his head and his brows that edges on rakish, matches her satisfied grin with one of his own.
Not too bad a job, actually. That went a lot better than anticipated. So, easily enough, when she asks—]
Kind of a, uh. Fairly recent development.
[Relatively, anyway. It's been a number of months, but magic is still kind of a new thing for him, in his life. Not unlike that bubble trick of hers, apparently. Assuming it's still up, he'll reach experimentally toward a cleaner part of the Force-shield to try and tap at it with a knuckle. As he does—]
Quite the impressive new trick of your own.
[Reminds him of Caleb's Shield spell, if a little more versatile. Or the Tiny Hut he makes for them to sleep under, if a lot faster to throw up around them. But she doesn't much strike him as a wizard.]
Edited (I sure did not finish that sentence) 2019-04-06 05:03 (UTC)
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"I've got your back," she says, and there's a blink-and-you'll-miss it little quick of his brows in response, a curious cant of his head back her way. Like that's more of an actual promise than he'd expected to hear from her. (No offense intended—for all she reminds him of Beau she doesn't know him from anyone, and he isn't used to being offered trust or kindness by rote.) But he's not arguing, all circumstances considered. A little bemused, though not unappreciative—]
...Thank you.
[Huh. The little off-beats passes, though, as quickly as it happens. Bigger things to deal with, y'know. So—cool. Lets do this. He steps as close to the Force-bubble she's maintaining as he dares to be sure he's in range. Plants his feet and hefts his blade in his hand but raises a hand in the direction of the offending vines, instead. His tone regains its brusque edge.]
Alright, lets light 'er up.
[The spell manifests in a sharp crackle of electricity at his temples, ozone buzzing around him before gathering at his fingers in a shock of blue energy, arcing its way over the shield and into the vine in a flash, like a thunderbolt. But rather than flickering out, the arc sustains there like a jacob's ladder—one end in his fist and one striking at the vine—like he's holding it steady. And he can't keep it up indefinitely, but he doesn't have to. Doesn't take much, after the initial strike causes the vines to smoke and steam, for the plants to start to smolder.]
no subject
For now, it does. When the fight is over, if he shows signs that he can't be trusted, then that can be reevaluated. It wouldn't even be the first time she put her trust in someone who didn't deserve it, but there's a feeling to this man that tells her that won't be the case. She can hope, anyway, and as he moves forward she focuses her will on the Force, imagines it creating a glass ball around them and keeping them safe.
The severed vine lashes, more acid splatters against the bubble, useless. A sense of pride in her accomplishment wells inside her, but right along with it comes the dull ache in knowing Luke will never see this, her budding mastery.
But they have a job to do here, and that lightning is absolutely more than enough to keep her attention when he calls it down. She whistles, impressed, and when she sees the first hint of a red glow, of fire, she can't help a satisfied grin.]
Have you always been able to do that?
no subject
He rocks back on his heels as it becomes clear the vines are burning, slowing, out of range. The buildings around here aren't made of wood—mostly metal, and stone, and something he can't identify but he'll assume won't catch enough to set the block aflame. So, he looks back toward Rey, and gives her a pleased cock of his head and his brows that edges on rakish, matches her satisfied grin with one of his own.
Not too bad a job, actually. That went a lot better than anticipated. So, easily enough, when she asks—]
Kind of a, uh. Fairly recent development.
[Relatively, anyway. It's been a number of months, but magic is still kind of a new thing for him, in his life. Not unlike that bubble trick of hers, apparently. Assuming it's still up, he'll reach experimentally toward a cleaner part of the Force-shield to try and tap at it with a knuckle. As he does—]
Quite the impressive new trick of your own.
[Reminds him of Caleb's Shield spell, if a little more versatile. Or the Tiny Hut he makes for them to sleep under, if a lot faster to throw up around them. But she doesn't much strike him as a wizard.]