helloeverybunny | OPEN RP POST — jurassic world, but with lightsabers??

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OPEN RP POST — jurassic world, but with lightsabers??

whatever it is you've been doing
you are now in Myrkr!

That's right. It's just like those jamjar games.
One moment you're minding your own business, and then... poof!
You're in Myrkr for no apparent reason.
(Or you've always wanted to be here, and you finally did it. Whatever, we're not the cops.)

That's not the weirdest part, though. Because you might be seeing double.
It's like the time-space continuum (or the Force, whatever) collapsed over the forest
and now doubles and multiples of you or people you ~~like~~ ~~hate~~ ~~want to kill~~ know are appearing.

Not only that, the forest is also teeming with
canines who can sense the Force and hunt Force-sensitives (vornskr),
genetically-enhanced vornskr because reptilian hounds are cooler (voxyn),
and lizards that can create Force-neutralizing bubbles (ysalamiri).

So go have fun with that!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a heavy weight and a hard burden to make those calls, trying to trust people with what is yours to protect. One wrong move or poor decision could cost lives, could cause unrest, and potentially start a revolt where people want your head. Jon counted himself a fairly good judge of character as a whole, which is why he didn't mind taking the meeting and actually sitting down with someone. He'd be able to see if these were just words to them or if it felt like they actually planned to back things up. And even then the offer would come home and be discussed with his advisors when it got to that point. Because he'd want others he trusted to help make sure he wasn't missing anything in the bigger picture. As for the madness, he'd like to think himself fairly sane. Unless accepting the crown and its responsibility made him a little mad, and Sansa and Tyrion would both probably agree that he received his sense from his Stark side. "It'd be nice to have allies, just in case, and also to open the trades a little more. We're an untapped market for some of the exports from other systems, and I'm sure there are some things other systems might like from our little corner of the galaxy."

He's already had lengthy discussions about it with his advisors, specifically his master of coin, about the benefits and dangers of opening trade to other planets. But to be fair, it's not like they don't already have the occasional wayfare merchant slipping in to sell one of the pubs a special brew from a different planet, allowing them a leg up on specialty demands or jewelry with gems found outside Westeros that people like. This would just mean it's more welcome and a larger market, so it's not just the wayfare and black-market sellers supplying things anymore. And in the wake of her smile he offers one of his own, because something about the way she offers it makes him think she gets it and understands what he means. That longing to just run free, to feel the crunch of snow under his feet and the Lothwolf he calls friend hunting at his side. Ghost doesn't prefer King's Landing though he like Jon bounces between the two planets when he feels its important to be at Jon's side. It's fleeting, that peace, but sometimes that break can make all the difference. And to a point, maybe that's why he didn't bring anyone with him on this trip. By flying alone, it allowed him to just be a man flying across space at least for a while, between points A and B.

"From the stories I've heard regarding my grandfather, I think it was less the weight of the crown and more the inbreeding that caused him to go mad," he offers with a small shake of his head before she's looking at his wound. Though once she settles net to him he dips his head down for her so it's easy to see and reach. He's still as she starts to clean it, only the slightest wince at the sting from it being touched. He's hoping if he didn't really feel it on their walk from his ship to now, it's not a large cut. "The Targaryen family was known to marry their brothers and sisters. My father broke that by marrying my mother." She probably can't see him wrinkle his nose at the information, but it's hinted at in his tone too, that he doesn't approve of that way of keeping the bloodline on the throne.

"There is always a way," he echoes. It's hard not to nod his head in agreement, but the sentiment is something he definitely understands not just in what she's doing but in life as a whole. "It's kind of you to work to help the planet become better."

The galaxy always had its eyes open for something new, something profitable or, at the very least, something pleasing to behold. Gems, minerals, artifacts, textiles; anything at all was bound to kindle someone’s interest, somewhere in systems near or far. There were always trades to broker and relationships, both positive and negative, to build around them. For a system as distant as Westeros, the possibilities were many, both to share and to receive. “Not to mention the opportunities for travel,” she adds after a moment of thought, because that is, for her at least, one of the biggest draws to any unvisited place. The chance to see new skies, to make landfall on a new planet, to mingle with new sentients and discover an entirely new culture. Wanderlust was, itself, a marketable impulse. Maybe that had played a small part in his venturing to Coruscant in the first place: politics and duty first, of course, but maybe he wanted to skim across the sea of space between his home and the Core, too. It would explain why he’d chosen to travel alone, despite the valuable title he carried.

But then her attention is turning to his realm’s history, as he explains it to her, tipping her head to the side as she cleans the edges of the swollen cut. His wince doesn’t go unnoticed, and she murmurs a soft apology and holds her fingers back for a moment, glancing down at his face before resuming her task, slowly. It’s a startling concept – marrying brother to sister – but the galaxy is full of complex histories and hierarchies, each with their own baffling code of ethics, and she has always tried to reserve judgment. It’s not her life to live. That doesn’t keep a distasteful wrinkle from coming to the bridge of her nose, in a mirror of the expression that crosses his face. “I can’t imagine that was a tradition everyone took kindly to,” she considers, leaning in to take a closer look at the cut once it’s clean. “That’s a lot of stock to put into a name. To sacrifice a part of your life like that just to keep it pure.” Because renouncing the right to marry for love was a considerable piece of one’s life, wasn’t it? But royalty came at all sorts of steep costs. So did names.

Feeling a smile return to her lips, she’s grateful to hear her words returned to her. Some would argue, rightfully so, that there’s little she can hope to accomplish. Especially alone, without the backing of a well-funded government intervention, if it comes to that. She has never been able to set her concerns so easily aside, however, and she turns back toward the table to exchange the rag in her hand for a small bacta patch that she’d brought out. “Plenty of people think it’s a waste of time, but,” she lifts a shoulder to acknowledge that her undertakings might in fact be futile, resituating herself to begin carefully applying the bandage to the wound, “I can’t fall asleep at night knowing someone needs help. Not unless I’ve tried to do something about it.” Then, to explain the medicated patch she’s opted for: “I’m putting this on just in case it’s deeper than it looks. It might even keep a headache at bay.”

There are a few minerals that Westeros has to offer that the outside galaxy hasn't seen yet, including the dragonglass found in the mines of Dragonstone. It's the crystal in his lightsaber, but it's also made some interesting weapons and beautiful jewelry depending on how the crafter uses it. Though most aren't Force-sensitive so most don't know it can be used in lightsabers. And he knows that Dorne is particularly proud of their red wine and would love to be able to expand their business as a whole. He knew that many were hoping he'd come to some kind of agreement soon that would open their system up to trade and tourism to a point. "Traveling is definitely a big perk of expanding relations outside our boarders. Most of my stops were planned after my meeting, though Myrkr clearly decided I needed to stop now for more than just a refuel." He hasn't been many places, so the idea of being able to get out and explore even just a little had intrigued him a lot. He hadn't consciously used it as a reason to come alone, but maybe it was. Because any guard or friend would urge him there and back quickly, but alone he could take the time he wanted to stop and see some of the galaxy he's considering his people join. And there was so much of it to see between home and Coruscant.

A softly breathed, it's okay, follows her apology, because he knows that it's the cut and not her that's bringing him pain. And it's a small pain considering what it could have been. He's just grateful that overall it was something small and not a broken limb or worse. For the choice to keep the blood ties close, he's not sure exactly where they got that idea or why it was introduced, or if it originally came from a set of siblings that just loved each other in a way that family usually doesn't and it just became the norm for the family after that. All he knows is that the conquering Targaryen had been wed to both his sisters and it had continued down the line until his father had broken it. "It definitely wasn't well taken, and yet as the royal house no one really argued against it either from what I can find in the history books." Though how well those are a source of truth, he's not entirely sure either. There's no telling what was left out of the books, better left for no one to remember. "And to potentially spoil the bloodline because it's too close after a while that it causes madness, thinking you're doing something good for it," he sighs softly. "I'm kind of glad my father followed love instead." Because it meant while he wasn't pure Targaryen, he'd been spared the madness of his family, at least so far. "I know love isn't always in the cards for royalty either, marrying for alliance or security instead sometimes." Something he's still figuring out. He's king, so there's less likely that he'll be wed off to someone, though there's still a potential chance if his kingdom really needed help or an alliance and he was free.

A lot of people doesn't see the point if it takes work or time to see improvement. But sometimes, all it takes is one person to try and put forth the effort that gets more people to see what they're doing and decide to help. And before you know it, you've got a larger movement rolling to help. Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time, one good deed can slowly change the world or planet it's done on. "You never know how you can help or what can be fixed if you don't at least try, right?" Because he does get it, and to be fair he could have said the same thing about his home after the Boltons took it over, did actually. But Sansa had helped him see that he should try, and while it was hard and he nearly lost everything in the process, Winterfell and his home had been taken back and his people freed of tyrants ruining their land and home. One fight, one speech, one day-long clean up task can do a lot more than someone realizes if it's done for the right reasons. His fingers reach up to brush the patch with a grateful smile. "Thank you. I'm sure the headache was creeping around the corner, ready to do me in once I'd relaxed a little thinking I was safe, and now you've stopped it in its tracks." He's always found that focus staves off a headache, and their walk and talk has given him a lot to focus on, keeping the pain at bay for the time being.

There was only so much of a journey that could be planned, no matter how careful the forethought that went into it, and despite the fact that he was a king, and pilot of his own ship. Systems failed, accidental diversions were made, and maybe there was a reason he had crashed into the trees of Myrkr. Maybe not – maybe it would turn out to be nothing more than a brief inconvenience for him. No matter the reason, he was here now, and she was lucky to have been passing by at the right time, and soon he could feasibly continue on his way. On a mission to broaden the horizons of the kingdom he ruled, which was an admirable quest. Some kings would have been content to keep their systems in isolation, having nothing to do with the Republic. It’s an amusing thought, that the planet itself may have moved to intervene, and she runs her fingers along the edge of the bandage to be certain that it’s secure. “Who knows why the stars align the way they do?” Mistakenly or not. But there was usually something to be learned, no matter how troublesome the lesson.

Sitting back once she’s convinced the wound is secure, looking the bandage over, she lets her eyes drop a bit lower to wander over his face. Kings, of course, have no predetermined look, and nothing that would necessarily give them away by appearance alone. Some wear their royalty like a gilded cloak, and others make no mention of it at all. Some make a point of brandishing their authority like a weapon, casting the threat of their power like a shadow. Some are far too preoccupied to ever appear at all. Some are gentle, some are kind, and some are too fearful to make trips like this themselves. Some are wary or suspicious or bristling. She still finds only that curious honesty in this king’s face, however; he’s been nothing but trusting and thoughtful. That can be hard to find in any common citizen on the street, let alone a king.

“I’ve always thought there should be at least two history books for every event.” Picking herself up, she begins to gather the supplies she’d brought to the table. “One from the perspective of the winners, and one from those who were defeated. The truth is hard to come by, otherwise.” Winners, after all, tended to paint themselves in memory as the noble vanquishers. It was usually a bit more complicated than that. Just as marriage was always far more complicated than it appeared, and she began to busy herself in the small square of a kitchen while her curiosity once more began to bloom. “It always seems like following love is as fatal as it is necessary.” It was punished, after all, if it disturbed tradition, but at the same time, how else was a person supposed to feel alive?

Letting go of a soft laugh, she again found herself grateful to hear a bit of optimism when she was just as frequently met with skepticism. “I wish more people thought that way,” but most were easily discouraged when the outcome was hazy. Returning with two steaming cups in hand, she set one on the table in front of him, and then moved to take a seat herself. “Here’s some tea, in case the headache comes around anyway. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

He'd tried to plan for quite a few things just in case. Crash landing into a planet though, that was definitely not on his list, if only because he considered himself a fairly decent pilot. And what pilot saw themselves crash landing into something like this, really? But overall he's healthy, and thanks to her bandaged up now, nothing is broken on his person, and who knows. Maybe there really is a reason he's been brought here. He's always had a knack for being where he's needed when he's needed, so maybe. Not that he even knows where to look for what might need his attention as a whole or maybe this accident is really just that, an accident. "Certainly not me, but I try to work it out as I can when given the chance." He's open for whatever lessons come his way, even if this one ends up simply being, net time travel with at least one other person.

Being raised the way he did, he'd never dreamed or longed for power, instead he kept to the shadows and just tried to be the good person that helped when he could. He has a strong moral compass that he's pretty sure comes from his mother and the Stark side of the family, and he always kept his oaths and promises. But it's the honest, loyal man he is that has also unconsciously drawn people to him, and his hard-working ethic has given him a strong skill base to admire. Which is why despite not trying to, he's consistently found himself in positions of leadership. Commanding a party at the Wall, becoming Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Lord of Winterfell, King in the North, and eventually King of the Seven Kingdoms. Never once has he ever let any of that power go to his head or change who he is at the core, instead he's strived to be an even better man that's good for his people. Which may also be why he doesn't really wear his royalty, because for him, how can he rule his people if he also isn't one of them so he knows what they might need or feel, how best to keep them safe and happy as one can ruling over them.

"That's not actually a terrible idea." He watches her and despite this being her place of temporary residence feels a little like he should be doing something. Not that there's much to do, so he shifts to rest back against the couch cushion a little. "But the victors rarely like to see themselves as the villain if they're a conqueror or think they're on the right side of the war or battle." Which might also be why a lot of literature goes missing when new regimes take over, should anything be said about them. "That would definitely paint a larger picture of understanding though, why people did what they did or believed. Though I've seen some people do things just for power, no real other reason." Fingers raise to rub at his chin a little. He'd been in love a couple times, at least what he thinks is love. Both times it had run hot, and both times it had been fatal and he'd found himself at odds with the woman he'd loved in a dangerous way. "I'm not sure love is for everyone though, some of us have ill-luck with it." He shakes his head and offers a small smile, "Though I've heard some people find love makes their lives far more meaningful. I guess it depends on what side of the coin things fall for each of us."

"Most people are either easily swayed away by hard work or tend to be a little selfish when it comes to helping others, so they find it far easier to tell themselves their help won't make a difference, I've found at least." Because clearly she's not one of those people, being here to try and find a way to help. And there's a little bit of skepticism about people as a whole from him, but as for doing something good to try, well, how can you really argue about doing the right thing. Leaning, his fingers wrap around the mug and he lets the warmth of the tea just seep into his hands a little with a smile. "Thank you. Making sure no headache appears is probably a good idea, though I'm going to need to find a place to stay overnight at least. There's no way the ship is going to get fixed before nightfall, and I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." He doesn't want to disrupt her work too much either, really.

It was the most a person could do, right? Try to work out how the stars had arranged themselves, and then take the next step forward? Most times, that arrangement felt random. People lived and worked and traveled and flew and crashed every day. It didn’t have to mean anything, did it? It was hard not to find constellations in the details, though. Sometimes the coincidences were so artfully timed that it was hard to believe they were just that – coincidences, and nothing more. But it was more sensible, probably, to accept that there was no omnipotent design at work. You had to make your own sense of the galaxy. Sometimes there were lessons, and other times there were just curious flickers.

Just like there would always be two sides to every story – two conflicting impressions, two completely different translations – and still, only one would be recorded and dispersed. There were some concepts she was reluctant to try even making sense of, and generations of inbreeding was one of them, but some good had sparked from that dangerous darkness, right? As he’d just told her, his father had broken from tradition, found love, and ultimately brought into existence this king who sat beside her. A king who was, unlike a good many other kings, striving to do right by his people. If his word could be believed - but since that was all she currently had, she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Regarding strangers with wariness was exhausting and dispiriting. If a kind-hearted man crossed her path, she would like to believe in that kindness for as long as she could. “You’re right. The truth dies as soon as the moment has passed.” Who could ever really say where the hero had stood, once everything was a blur?

She can’t help lifting an inquisitive glance to his face at the mention of ill-fated love, however. She takes a thoughtful sip of the tea in her own cup before posing the question that has come to mind. “You’ve only heard? Has love not made life more meaningful in your experience?” It’s a genuine question – there are so many experiences of love across the stars, she has a sincere interest in the answer. Love is the driving force of so many waves, both violent and beautiful. It’s responsible for wars and peace and destruction and salvation. It’s a curious thing.

Returning a small smile at his thanks, considering a bandage and a mug of tea are kindnesses anyone should’ve offered, she lifts her gaze again to wander through the room at his observation. Given his unplanned arrival on this planet, finding a place to stay might be a bit difficult. A bit treacherous, at least, and she weighs the options available to them before suggesting one aloud, setting her mug down. “You’re welcome to stay here, if you don’t mind sleeping on a couch.” The present accommodations are not, unfortunately, high-scale. But it would be safer than sending him out onto the street, and her gaze skips once again to the lightsaber on his belt. She supposes she can’t ask him to surrender his weapon for the night when she wouldn’t be willing to do the same, but perhaps there’s a way to at least confirm that he is who he says he is. “Maybe you should connect with your sisters, just so they know what’s happened to you. We’ve got a holoprojector.”

It didn't have to mean something, no. But Jon had found he'd grown or learned when things happened like this in the past. Maybe he was looking too hard for meaning where there shouldn't have been or maybe there really was some reason for it. It gave him a chance to become a better person or a stronger man, to learn better how to lead, to be tested on how strong his moral character was, and if he'd take the easy route or the hard one. Lessons along his life at major unseen events, but it could also be him grasping to make the lessons to deal with them easier and wrap his head around why or how something like that could have happened. A coping mechanism that just happened to align with events he needed to be pushed into growing, events that were pure coincidences. And maybe, in some ways, he was still far younger at heart, believing in fate and magic to a point even if he didn't fully seem to believe in love.

He wouldn't be able to help her understand the generations of inbreeding, because while it was a history his family had left behind, it wasn't one that he had ever been raised to want or understand. His sister had grown up a romantic, the father he'd known had taught him how to be strong and fair. If he really looked at his leadership style it was very Stark, if you dole out the ruling you see to the punishment. It doesn't get handed off to someone to take care of for you, you have to be the master of your own decisions. Even if that task is putting someone to deal for treason or desertion. A lesson all of the Stark men had learned from a young age. But Ned had always been fair too, hearing his people, drinking and eating with them, being among them and one of them too. There'd been enough through his life to understand if she didn't quite believe some of the things he's told her, either he's lying or the bump on his head was far worse than either of them realized and he's delirious. "It's a sad twist of fate for the truth, but truth is an ever-flowing, almost living thing. As is history, because as soon as the moment is lived, it's history. But can you remember enough of it later to write it down accurately or will it be slighted by your thoughts and how you perceived things too?" There's the fairest hint of a smirk, because while really, it's been a while since he's had this kind of conversation before.

A slow sip of tea is taken at her questions, mind working how to answer and how much he really wants to share. And yet, he's already in for a pound with her and his history. Why should this topic be any different when his comments had led to her questions in the first place. "Love has opened my eyes in some ways, but both times I've tried to embrace it, I've ended up on the opposite side as the woman I'd cared for." The words are soft as he looks down at his cup, "Neither made it and it's made me wonder if I'm just fated to not exactly be made for love." He glances up at her, not sure how she'll take that. He hadn't killed one but had been partially responsible for her death. The other had died by his hand, stopping the madness that had caused her to promise her armies that she wouldn't stop until the galaxy was under her rule, and that she would burn those that didn't kneel to her. Both hard memories, both leaving him a little scarred when it came to trying to open his heart to the thought of trying again. There's no asking for pity or sympathy in his tone or look though either, if only because he's already come to terms with that way of life.

"I.. would be incredibly grateful for that, thank you." The surprise at her offer is clear, because, despite her help with his wound and the tea, he hadn't expected her to offer a stranger a place to sleep and give up even a couch of her current accommodations. It was above kindness for her to offer. Though she's probably not wrong either, that he'd be hard-pressed to find somewhere to stay at such late notice. He doesn't miss the way her eyes dip to the lightsaber, and no he'd not feel comfortable giving it up, but at the same time in all the time she's been in his presence he hasn't moved to use it or touch it either because he's known he hasn't needed it. "They may have a ship with some guards to come collect me by the time the ship is fixed, but that's not a bad idea, honestly. They'll be wondering why I haven't checked in soon if I don't anyway." No hesitation on taking her up on her offer, because as much as Sansa will do the told you so, you're an idiot route of lecture, she'll be thankful he's safe and calling them. That someone is also kind enough to help him and allow him to call. He takes another sip of his tea. "I'm going to have to figure out a way to repay your kindness."

Truth was indeed a living thing – that explained why people might be anxious to influence it, or divert it, or kill it. It could surge or flood or be dammed with lies. It could cut new courses or disappear completely. It was impossible to hold, and its existence difficult to prove. No wonder so many people chose to burn it, or erase it, or try to mask it. That was true of anything complicated or intricate, though. Better to forget it altogether, according to some. A sad twist of fate. It isn’t all dismal, though, right? The smirk she catches at the corner of his lips seems to suggest otherwise, and she can’t help mirroring it back, because he’s right. Everything – anything it all – is ultimately open to interpretation. Life is lived, after all, through the perception of billions of separate, unique minds. How can anyone decide which projection of the truth is real? “It’s a sad twist of fate for all of us, then, isn’t it? To know that we’re dying as we live, and every moment that we’ve lived is a part of someone else’s history. To write however they please.” But, again, it’s not a completely defeatist outlook – the details left in another person’s story, like footprints in the sand, are not necessarily recorded with deception. They might be recorded with gratitude, or fondness.

And love – aren’t there infinite ways to record love? In all hues of bitterness and despair and glowing affection. The immensity is staggering. His answer surprises her, and then she’s struck with a pang of guilt, realizing only belatedly that it might have been a stinging question. “I’m sorry,” she offers softly, before anything else, both for her insensitive curiosity and for his cruel experience with what should be the galaxy’s most tender emotion. Not once, but twice? Meeting his eyes, she can’t keep silent on the verdict he has come to. There’s the weight of resolution in his words, as if he has long since accepted the hand he was dealt. No room for pity, just the humble resignation of a man continuing onward. “I think we’re all made for love, though,” and how could a human not be? Even if they denied it, even if they refused it – there were bound to be moments when sparks danced to life. “We just seem to be fated to find it in all the wrong places.” On opposite sides of a war; over unbridgeable chasms. She offers half a smile – across the galaxy, they all share the same curse. “Our hearts are fated to keep searching, even when we wish they’d stop.” Sometimes it’d be easier to feel nothing at all.

Then he’s accepting her offer, thankfully, and she gives a nod of her head before rising, feeling the only remaining edge of her tension eased – if he has nothing to hide, she has little reason not to trust him. “If your own people don’t send a ship for you, the Senate very well might, just so you don’t miss your meeting,” and while it’s meant to be half-teasing, it’s also probably more than half-true. If the Senate has a vested interest in bringing Westeros into the fold, it’s not an opportunity they’re likely to let slip by. Not that they would have any idea where he might be, and she disappears just long enough to find and then bring out the aforementioned projector. Setting it on the table for his use, she declines his words with half a shake of her head, quirking a smile. She’s extended him no extraordinary kindness: only the decency of basic medical attention and a cup of tea. The use of her communication device only seems right, as does a place to sleep for the night. Anyone who watched him crash into the jungle would have done the same. Picking up both mugs, for the sake of procuring refills and allowing him a bit of privacy, she makes her way back into the kitchen.

“Nothing lost, nothing owed.” It cost her nothing to be kind, and the fact that he returned her peaceful approach with a peaceful reception is enough. Kindness for kindness is not a barter, so there’s nothing to be repaid. The fact that he’s indulged her curiosity and patiently spared the time for harmless conversation – not to mention the trust he placed in her to treat his wound – feels like a perfectly fair trade. How many strangers can she claim to have met that are gentle and open-minded? Especially ones in his situation, who could have been rushed, aggravated, inconvenienced and suspicious. Spontaneous, mutual trust is a gift she wasn’t expecting.

The one constant with history, with truth, was that it was skewed toward the bias of the person telling it, even if they didn't mean for it to be. Nothing was every fully accurate because there was always a missing piece, a hidden knowledge that might not be known. But no, it's not completely dismal though, because he does believe that it should be kept as it can. Wipe or burn history, even a bias history, and you lose valuable information and knowledge. Better to have what you can, so long as you know that history is told by the victors with a bias and that while you may not have the whole story, it's out there in the universe somewhere. Even if it's just the people living it. And he likes that mirroring smirk from her as he tilts his head. "Dying is the easy part," there's the slightest pause, like he's leaving that weighted bit of phrase as all he's saying before he thinks better of it and adds, "so I've heard." Though the weight says he knows more, or that there's a story there at least. He doesn't share that he'd died as easily as he shares the other information. "But if we're dying as we live, it means that we should also make the most of our lives as we can. Be it enjoying what the galaxy has to offer or helping people, or a combination of both." He takes a slow sip of his tea with a smile. "And there's the hope that what we leave behind is for the better, or well, I hope what I leave behind is for the better." Because no, you can't always know how people will write about you in their history, but he strives to do well by people.

The love that he's found has always burned hot for a time, before he and the woman he'd loved ended up on opposite sides of battle, of war. It wasn't sour exactly, because the feelings had still been there and true. But some things can't be stopped, and some things are bigger than the heart. Millions of people burning because Daenerys refused to allow anyone not kneeling to her to live as bigger than him or his heart. There's a small shake of his head both to clear the memories and at her apology. "You have nothing to apologize for," he dismisses gently. Because if he honestly hadn't wanted to answer her question he would have said so. Though her other comments on love have him watch her as she speaks, because in some ways it does sound like she's speaking from experience, and he echos her half smile. Being destined for love, made for it would explain why it did occasionally continue to crop up despite trying to ignore its presence. "If only we could be fated to find it in the right places, maybe it wouldn't be so hard." But then, would it be as worth it to have if it was easier to come by? He doesn't regret the love he'd found in the past, even if the endings had been hard. It'd taught him some things, helped him to grow in ways that he might not have if he hadn't found it. "Do you wish your heart would stop?" Because something about the way she speaks has him thinking she doesn't have someone, at least not anymore. He's also hoping he's not overstepping with the question, though he wouldn't fault her if she chose not to answer it.

He doesn't have anything to hide. The only thing it probably would have been smart to hide was being a king, and even that he'd been honest and open about. "Considering I don't really know the Senate though, I'm more likely to accept and trust the ship from my sisters to get me there and be able to get me home." Because really, if the Senate was his sole way on and off Coruscant, well, he'd be at their mercy for even getting home. And that's not exactly a great seat to be in when they're trying to negotiate his joining, and while you'd hope they'd play right if no one else knows his ship crashed in Myrkr and he has no way of getting home, who knows what they might think to try to get him to play along. And he doesn't mean to be paranoid either, but at the same time he's been through too many wars with too many hidden daggers in the shadow not to at least think about that potential option. There's a soft thanks when she brings out the projector for his use. And while she didn't need to leave for him to record his message and send it, it's kind of her to give him a little privacy.

There's a quick message that's addressed to Sansa if Sabé is listening, that he's crashed on Myrkr, that he's fine and has had someone kind enough to make sure he's fine and let him send her a message, and that he'll stay put until he hears from her or has a guard fly to collect him and see him to his meeting. Though the part about the guard collecting him sounds resigned, far more like a put out brother than a king. Sending the message, he looks over toward the kitchen where Sabé disappeared into. He's enjoyed their conversation if he's being honest, and he likes that she's kind enough to help him. Because well it's nice to believe that anyone in the same position would do all this, it's not always the case. There's a fifty-fifty chance when he goes back to his ship that some of it will be missing because it's been left in the forest and someone else may come across it and decide to salvage parts from it, he's well aware. Though part of him is also of the mind that if they need it that bad, he can just replace it and they can have it. "You are a remarkable woman, Sabé," he offers as he stands and moves to the kitchen near her.

Dying is the easy part? What a strange idea, at first glance – because, in most stories, isn’t peace supposed to follow death? The final escape from the rigors of a lived, mortal life, and, more than that, the agony of dying? The act of dying itself. Was it a suspended moment of terror, of realizing that the end, the real end, had come? Of glimpsing the dark and thinking maybe, after all, there’s nothing there? No peace, no escape; nothing at all? Death is, almost always, imagined as a loss. Sight gone, breath gone, a star dimming. Death suggested violence, torture, defeat. Death wasn’t something that she held in mind as easy. Then again, it couldn’t be said that she devoted her time to thinking too closely on it, either. Worrying over death – what form it would take, how long the pain would last, wondering if she would open her eyes again elsewhere – was a distraction from the act of living. More than that, it was all imagined worry, too, because who could say what came after the moment of death? Who could weigh which was worse: the dying or what came after? And why is there a certain note to his voice that makes her look up, as if it’s a shift she could feel? Like the words have physically brushed over the surface of her mind, and she could feel where they left ripples and where they did not. Where they were heavier, and where there were lulls. Something held back. So he’s heard? She’s already begun to learn that his experiences skirt the ordinary. “It sounds as if you’ve spoken with someone who’s made that journey and then returned,” she prompts, teasing, because it’s impossible, right? Not even the Jedi can outmaneuver death.

Regardless, she has no trouble believing that what he leaves behind will be an improvement over what he finds. In their small time together, he’s threatened no harm to anyone or anything, and not even raised his voice in frustration, though he would’ve had every right. A man who carried himself with such gentle composure would leave good in his wake. One might also assume he would find good fortune in love, receiving happiness back for the kindness he sent out, but as every sentient in the galaxy knew, balance was a fickle thing. It didn’t always make sense, nor could it be called fair. If fate was a narrow hyperlane with no detours, it would be much easier to trust. To believe that it would deliver to you a love that would not hurt you. That rarely appeared to be its design, however. “Maybe we are fated to find it in the right place, but we steer ourselves off course,” and then, if death intervened before the course was corrected, how would they ever know what fate had planned? Or maybe there was no fate at all. Maybe it was one crash-landing after another. His straightforward question splashes her out of that thought, however, and she laughs softly before she can answer. And there’s no easy way to answer, because how can she describe the impossibility of finding love as a queen? How can she, while she is uncomplicated Sabé, share the fact that she’s never had the chance to discover love, because there’s no room for anyone to approach her as Padmé? Love demands trust, openness and vulnerability. Her life as a queen cannot allow those things. She settles on a simpler answer, one that betrays nothing. “I do wish it wouldn’t dream so loudly.”

She thinks instead of the Senate. He’s wise to prefer his own transportation over anything that might be offered from Coruscant. It’d be best not to trap himself within their whims, as she’s sure he knows. It’s no secret that politics are rife with exactly the greedy falsehoods that would only sink him into a deeper predicament. It’s better that his family is made aware. “Always remember that the Senate does not have your personal wellbeing in mind,” though she hardly feels like she needs to advise him of that. Only his family has that sort of investment in him; the Senate wants only what he stands for, and the power he has to give it to them. A shame, but it’s how the machine functions. There’s no reason to act as if it doesn’t. She keeps herself busy while he sends his message, refilling his mug in case there’s any interest in more tea, and she tries not to listen, even if her curiosity refuses to disappear. A smile twitches at the corner of her lips at his tone when he mentions the guard: a brother already expecting his sister’s ire. Not even a king can escape his family’s judgment.

She’s in the process of filling a clear jar with water, hoping to revive the flower within it – a bright gold blossom that she regrets having plucked, but she craved something cheerful to come home to – when he appears in the kitchen. Looking up, she’s so startled by his six words that heat rises to her cheeks, and there’s the odd sensation in her chest of her heart missing a beat. Is that a kindness they hand out generously and without thought where he comes from? Or is it strange to hear because she’s being no one but who she is, albeit with a borrowed name? It feels direct; as queen, there is almost always a durasteel wall of politics and formality between her and whoever she is speaking to. It’s absent now, and so an almost nervous laugh slips free as she sets the jar back onto the countertop. “I’ve done nothing to deserve that.” Then, glancing up over his chest to the bandage on his brow, she adds, “I think you hit your head a bit harder than we first thought, Just Aegon.”

The act of dying really had been the easy part, laying in snow as he bled out. Maybe it was because of the snow and cold but the pain had faded rather quickly as the world slowly faded around him, numb and quiet as his life had left him. Darkness and peace and just a feeling of floating silently had followed for a while before he'd woken back up in a body that had felt like it'd taken a rather severe beating. Not that his body had shown that beating, most of his wounds scarred and looking like they were weeks old. His lips quirk a little at her teasing prompt, because who would believe that someone came back from death. It's not exactly something so easily overcome, nearly never really. Fingers rub at his chin because he doesn't want to lie to her, though his head tilts slightly. "There may be someone who has. A rare miracle, but one that happened none the less." Rare, but not impossible. Though he's also not banking on being able to pull it off again since he's not even sure what magic or use of the Force the red priestess had used to bring him back the first time.

Experience has taught him that yelling and being angry don't bring you anything but more hardship. Well, not his own experience, but he's seen enough of it in others. Yelling and shouting at the world and anyone who will listen means no one will want to listen, it also means you'll end up doing something stupid and messing things up further. And somehow, he has more patience than he knows what to do with. Not to say that things don't sometimes rattle or anger him, but he knows how to hold his temper and walk in stride to see the right outcome made. As for balance given back to him, he could argue that the galaxy balanced his kindness by making him King which in turn maxed out the balance. Not that he asked for the title or responsibility. That there was none left for love. He had happiness in some ways, his family for one. Seeing them safe and happy now has made his heart swell in a different way. "Perhaps. That pesky free will with no road map of where fate wants us to go. Only occasionally getting glimmers of a hint of what direction we should be on when we least expect it to appear, sometimes turning everything upside-down in the process." And there's no telling if, had things gone differently, either of the two women he'd loved could have been his happily ever after. Whatever hand had played in his life to take them from him, their own choices, his choices, the choices of the hundreds around them that had shifted those actions, it was done now. "I would say it only wants you happy, but I would also no be so bold as to know it," he offers with a small smile. Finding love as a royal was difficult at best. Trying to figure out who you could trust, who might be after the power you wield or worse yet the throne you sit on and marrying as a way to get it. Though, part of him would argue that she, the woman sitting in front of him, was definitely an incredible woman. One someone would be lucky to love given the chance. She's been nothing but kind to him, a good conversationalist, but also strong in her opinions and thoughts, something he liked overall.

Her advice gains a nod from him because, in all honesty, he was thinking the same thing. Which is also very much why he only contacts his sister about where he is, not the Senate. He could send them a note, let them know he's having ship trouble, and will be a little late, but he doesn't. If they want to continue their negotiations with him, they'll have to swallow their ire at him being late, for whatever reason it is, and meet when him when he shows up. And while he will apologize about his tardiness, it gives him a slightly upper hand in itself because he'll see how they treat him and react when things aren't going their way. Actions are always telling, and he judges actions far more than he judges pretty words. He also doesn't mind if she did listen, nothing in the message is classified or private, and if it brings her a little more peace of mind that he is who he says he is, well he's all for that too. Especially since she did offer him the couch.

His head dips just a little at her blush when she looks over at him like that, though he can't help the smile that's on his features. She might think it's without thought, but for him it's a very thoughtful and well-seen offer of words for her. It may be a slightly more direct offered compliment than he usually gives, but well deserved at the same time. And he also feels it's a far better one than just telling her she's beautiful, because this one is based on the traits that she's shared with him since she's found him. "You've done a lot to deserve it," he counters as he leans on the counter a little and reaches for his mug, pulling it toward him if only because it gives him something to do while she looks at him and assesses that it must be from the hit on his head. "Not everyone would be kind enough to bandage me up, let me use their holoprojector, or offer me their couch to sleep on." He takes a slow sip of the newly filled mug as he watches her with gray eyes that say it's definitely not the bump on his head. "And there's the conversation that I've been enjoying." Because as inquisitive as she's been about him and his answers, he's enjoyed talking to her, sharing his views on things and getting hers back.

Given all the magic already at work in the galaxy – if a person wanted to define things like the Force as ‘magic’ – then would it be so hard to believe that death could be reversed? She found it difficult to imagine. But, she also found it difficult to imagine the Force, which was decidedly real. She’d spent plenty of time wondering; what did that living, coursing energy feel like? What was it like to touch something without ever laying your hands on it? To sense other people’s intentions and silent emotions? To be able to defy the basic physics that everyone else had to live by? To have unspoken connections with others? There were probably as many miracles as there were stars, if not more. “I would like to ask them which was harder, then: the dying or the returning.” Because once you’d let go of your life, wouldn’t it be just as wrenching to have to come back to it? To wonder if everything really remained the same, like picking up a book and continuing? Or wondering if everything was somehow irrevocably changed? She can’t help but laugh. “Maybe it’s better that I can’t ask. After listening to my questions, they might decide that death is less trouble.”

Death was pesky, and free will was peskier, because while death was a definitive end – supposedly – free will interfered every moment that a person still drew breath. Opening doors and closing others. Tangling paths and redrawing the map without warning. Letting go of a soft hum, she decides that ‘glimmers of a hint’ feels true. Everyone’s had that experience, haven’t they? Catching a glimpse of something from the corner of your eyes, feeling it flutter in your chest – signs, directions, hints. They also tended to disappear as quickly as they came, leaving you to wonder if they had really been there at all. “Sometimes the glimmers make more sense if you let yourself be upside down for a little while, don’t they?” That had been her experience, anyway. Giving up the pursuit of logic and sense oftentimes allowed the glimmer of a feeling to exist exactly as it was. Only for a little while, before the world shifted and everything fell back as it had been before. Then those glimmers scattered, and people preferred the safety of what they knew best. The galaxy needed structure to function, and the heart was too often drawn away into chaos. There’s a cheeky smile for the verdict passed on her own heart. “Yes, it’s bold enough to be in constant battle with my better judgment.” Its demands always seemed so simple, which made them dangerous.

She soon finds herself with nothing more to do with her hands: the uprooted flower has been tended to as best she can, and her guest has been tended to as best she can, and so she reaches for her own mug. Taking a careful sip, she remains unconvinced even as he defends the compliment. Perhaps it would have been easier to keep walking, to remain wrapped in the shroud of her own thoughts when she saw his ship go careening into the trees. There would’ve been no reason she couldn’t act as if she’d never seen it. Or to back away once she’d determined that he was unharmed and coherent. He could’ve fended for himself. There was always a risk in taking on the company of a stranger, and something even riskier in inviting them into the space she was currently using. Risky to allow them to stay, and some might question even indulging any conversation that goes beyond what’s necessary. But she also knows, despite the risks, that she couldn’t have walked away. Whatever impulse had driven her to approach his fallen ship is also what has kept her from hurrying him on his way. Because he hasn’t, as she’s already noted once, raised his voice or even glanced down at his lightsaber. In similar exchanges that she’d shared with strangers before, anyone else would have. He’s been nothing but gentle.

She picks her eyes up from the contour of his upper arm, not quite realizing her gaze had been lingering there. “Well,” and when she meets his eyes instead, she finds that deep, winter gray to be more than she can hold, glancing down at the mug in her hand and focusing on chasing the heat out of her cheeks. “I guess I want to know that if the world comes to an abrupt end, I’ll have memories like this to enjoy instead of regret.” Regret over moments when she could have been more patient, or more trusting, or more tolerant. It was always possible that she might come to regret her kindness, too, but the gentle moments will ultimately more than make up for it. It’s a lesson she’s come to learn, when daily life can be filled with bitter, skeptical, greedy interactions. A small laugh skips free at what comes next, and she lifts a hand to brush back a curl of hair that’s fallen free at her temple. “That’s remarkable. I’ve been told I talk too much and ask too many questions.” As a queen, mostly, when people wanted nothing but her easy cooperation, and it spilled over into everyday life, too. When she stole infrequent, ‘everyday’ escapes such as this.

It's hard to tell sometimes exactly what could and couldn't be done with the Force. Just because it hadn't been done by someone you know doesn't mean it hasn't been or couldn't be done by someone else, after all different people had different specialties, different affinities for how the Force worked for them. So it might be possible to bring someone back from the dead, well, it's definitely possible because it happened to Jon. From what he'd heard, he'd been dead a day or so before she'd shown up to bring him back, so it's not like they just got that he was dead wrong, that she'd found that last lingering breath of life in him and strengthened it. The answer to her question is on the tip of his tongue as he tries to weigh whether to answer or not, if it would only open more questions from her and give away that it wasn't a friend that he'd known but actually him. Because it's a question he hadn't really thought about, he hadn't had time to think about how wrenching it had been to come back because things had snowballed so fast after returning. Back into battle mere days after his death, nearly dying again. But then she's saying she probably doesn't want to ask, and it earns a soft chuckle as he shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure your questions are a lot less trouble than death." He's enjoying them, after all, enough that they bring a smile to his features and a laugh from him now and again.

Free will was the pen to draw your own map and an unexpected roadblock all in one depending on how it chose to appear in your life, or well how you chose to use it as you lived your life. And not just closing doors but occasionally locking them so you can't go back through them until it's too late, and only then reopening them just to torment you with what you never had a chance to try. And he'd agree, those glimmers did leave you wondering if you're reading the signs right, because it's gone almost as soon as you acknowledge it, leaving it in the hands of that pesky free will for how you'll react to it too. "Sometimes they do, but it's also not in our nature to want to be upside down for too long or we get dizzy and turned around completely." And staying too long upside down meant that things might not be exactly as you'd left them when you gave that glimmer all of your intentions. Emotion and logic, two sides of the same coin that are ever at odds with each other. And yet, you couldn't really have one without the other or things crumbled. "And yet there's the occasional wish that you could just let it win over better judgment, even if it's just for a little while." Like letting that glimmer in to turn your world upside down, only the heart could really make sure the world isn't the same when judgment finally takes the controls back. Because sometimes who doesn't want to just say to hell with procedure and consequences and feel life a little more vividly sometimes.

Truth be told, how she had reacted when she'd found him is probably how he would have reacted to finding someone crashing into the trees as well. He's not the kind of person that can just pretend he never saw it and walk away from it, it would eat at his conscious if the person was alive or not if they were in need of serious help. Even in need of little help but just a quick check and bump on the head he'd had. And while yes, he could have fended for himself, not everyone would have been so lucky in his situation. And those are the people you always hope do get the help that they need. As for watching, well, he's watching her back from over the edge of his mug as he takes another slow sip of his tea. Because really, it's hard to not watch her. She's interesting, beautiful, and well isn't it rude to not look at the person you're having a conversation with?

"I've never thought of it like that," he muses gently as he sets his cup down on the counter in front of him. Though his hands never leave it, fingers occasionally toying across the ceramic of the mug. "But that's a good way to look at it too, to be able to remember these kinds of moments fondly instead of with regret." Though he does hope that it will be a long time before the world comes to an abrupt end, for the world itself or them. He's enjoyed having his second chance at life, though he honestly didn't think too hard at the regrets before either. Or did he. Those final moments aren't exactly something he thinks back on too often or too long. His smile only grows at her laugh and her comment. As a queen, it's her prerogative to ask as many questions as she wants to ensure she understands before answering or making a decision. And no one should be telling her any differently. Gray eyes follow her fingers as she brushes back that curl before they dip a little shyly. "I don't think you talk too much or ask too many questions. I would argue that the person who doesn't like you asking questions has something to hide, and you should be a little careful around them." Of course, not everyone has the patience to sit and chat at length about things, but at the same time how do you get to know someone, to learn new things if you don't talk, and ask questions. "You should be allowed to ask all the questions you want if someone doesn't feel comfortable answering them, then they can politently decline to answer, no?"

It’s up for debate, probably – there are plenty of people who would rather not spare a second thought on such issues at all. Because they’re not realistic for most people; who, in recent memory, has had to face the miracle of returning from death? Miracle or curse, they haven’t come to a decisive conclusion on that front, but that might be for the best. After all, who can say? She can only wonder what that might be like, in terms of both emotional shock and pure physical sensation. If death was imagined as a sort of floating or lifting, a gentle abandonment of the body you’d occupied, would a return be just as gentle? Or would it be so unorthodox and unexpected that your spirit would be dropped roughly back to earth? Was there some sort of travel between the two worlds, presuming there was a world after death? Was anything of the spirit lost in that transition? Was the person who died the same person who came back? Many questions to be had and few answers, and she quirked a smile at his kindly suggestion. Thinking and discussing and wading through uncharted streams of thought was no small effort. “Depends on the death, I suppose,” she considers, and while the subject of death itself might be a bit grim, she doesn’t keep from adding playfully, “or the question.”

Then, in a not entirely unrelated way, she tips her head to think instead of how life can be flipped upside down. By a person’s own hand, most certainly – as an overcorrection when they realized they’d strayed too far after one of those glimmers, or in frustration when they decided that the path of their life was laid much too flat and narrow. A person might let themselves spin off the grid, in that case. But he was right – no one wanted to be unbalanced and disoriented for too long, no matter how the new view might shimmer. “Like flying too fast for too long? We think our minds might become stardrunk for good,” and that wouldn’t necessarily be terrible, either; new perspectives were bound to help a person evolve and see past the walls they didn’t even know they had built. Dangerous, too, though. Like all change, it would be uncomfortable and uncertain and leave you wondering what the ‘right’ perspective had been all along. A question she felt too many fretted over – there was no ‘right.’ Life was lived in too many variations for one to be held as the single, correct way. Yet it was true, sometimes there was the wish to let that disorienting feeling, that hyper-rapture, take over even if just for a little while. To let the heart feel, without punishment.

It’s a thought she’s unprepared to be thinking when she finds his eyes again, over the edge of her mug while she mirrors the sip he’s taking. Then she feels the need to remember all of the eyes she’s looked into before, though it is not a realistic task. Only those that have been stored in the back of her mind, for one reason or another. Countless citizens of Naboo, appealing to her for her political influence. Or her humanitarian influence, or her vengeful influence, because people would not hesitate to use the power held by another to dispense what they thought was justice. Eyes that asked, with kindness or with desperation, and eyes that demanded. Eyes that searched, and misunderstood, or failed to try. Eyes that judged, eyes that measured, eyes that calculated and pierced. Eyes that looked but did not see, and eyes that refused to see what was plainly before them. It wasn’t often that she found herself looking at someone who seemed to simply be looking at her, the way he was looking at her. Attentive, mindful, seeing. She glances away, watching his hands instead, which she quickly decides is no easier than looking at his eyes.

“It seems a shame not to, if we have the power to do so,” she adds after a moment, and it is, isn’t it? To have the luxury of choosing fond memories over bitter ones. If it takes a little extra time and a bit of a risk, isn’t it worthwhile? A smile hints at the corners of her lips, though she’s not sure if it’s because of what he’s said or the way his eyes have shyly dipped. “I’m glad to know there’s at least one person in the galaxy who’s on my side,” and it’s spoken with a teasing gratitude, because he might still just be carrying himself politely. She catches her gaze sliding back down the slope of his shoulder, and in skirting it away, to the opposite side of the kitchen, she is reminded of the hospitality that can still be offered. “Oh, are you hungry? I’m happy to make something, although I can’t claim to be any kind of cook.” It wasn’t wise to fall asleep on an empty stomach with a head wound, was it?

In his experience, while he hasn't heard her questions about death, he'd still say that her questions would be a lot easier than death. But maybe that's just him. At the same time, that's not to say they'd be easily taken or answered. There's a reason he hasn't actually let her know that he's the person who's come back from the dead so she can ask either. Though to be fair too, few would actively wonder about death like that as a whole but then most aren't presented with the opportunity to even hear of someone who has come back to ask such questions of either. Maybe after they get to know each other a little longer, should they continue to talk and stay in touch after his sister sends the guards to come collect him, she might one day get to ask her questions and get those answers. For now, he merely chuckles for her considering comment and playful addition. "Touche," he offers with a shake of his head. "Maybe one day you'll be able to find out." There's a pause before, "Through your asking questions." Because he feels that has to be clarified, he wouldn't wish anyone the opportunity to feel death and coming back, it's not worth it, especially just to answer some questions.

The question is always, can that glimmer of a new path or correction of an old path be found too without turning the path you were on too far to the side or upside down too? Instead of straying from your path, can you find a way to weave your path over to the new light to create and forge a stable, new path. Letting that glimmer help you to fix yourself. There's a small nod as he smiles at that analogy, "Exactly like that. Eventually, you'll want to find stability, to sort out your mind and let it come to." But new perspectives weren't a bad thing to come out of it either. Sometimes people get stuck in ruts and they need that turn, that dizzying perspective to really help them come to the realization that things need to change. Even if it isn't following that glimmer but somewhere completely unexpected. Moving forward toward stars knew what instead of stuck in the same routine. There were many different paths to the same destination, and there was no 'right' way to get there. Some paths are just harder or easier than others based on other choices. But it's those choices, that life experience that also allows or makes wary following your heart to feel without punishment, even just for a little while.

It's hard not to see her. There's no bodyguards or distractions, no ulterior motives for why the two had been drawn together, and no separation due to principle or custom that keeps them at an arm's length. While he may be a king, he's simple in his getting sorted out and acceptance of her help. And while she may be a queen, she hasn't presented herself as such, instead going by a different name altogether and just being the woman she is beyond the crown without it interfering with her interactions. Which in and of itself is a double-edged decision because it means in cases like now, there's nothing to really hide behind if you want to get a little distance, even if it's purely because you're unsure of how to react to things like him telling her she's remarkable. But it's not such a bad thing either, is it? Because it means that someone is actually seeing her, the woman she is instead of any of the power or money or control she wields. She knows that what she's getting from him is just his getting to know her.

"I agree. Not everyone has that ability sometimes, or has the strength to make those decisions." Because it is a luxury to choose, but there's also a strength to choosing to take the occasional risk to make those fonder memories. And he would say yes, it is worthwhile to take those risks in exchange for the good memories to look back on, instead of wondering what would have happened or if you should have later on in life. "I'm happy to be on your side," he offers back with a smile. Because it's not just being polite for this. He likes the time they've spent together talking, and he's happy to continue getting to know her and her ideas, getting to know her as a whole really. His head turns just a little to glance at the other side of the kitchen. "I wouldn't say no to a little something. Can I help?" Because while it is her place, and her food, he'd feel weird just letting her cook for him. Especially when he's right here and fully capable of helping. Should she want to and let him of course.

After the experience of living, experiencing death as merely another step along some greater path would be a gift indeed. Or a curse? Because she still isn’t any closer to understanding what a return from death would entail, if anything at all. But she is also not under the impression that there is anyone to ask for clarification, and so she lifts her brows instead, openly amused by his phrasing. “I’m guaranteed to find out about half of that journey, at least,” and that was the dying half, the fate they all ultimately shared. Whether or not she would find herself with the opportunity to return remained to be seen, but even then, she had to wonder if she would come back with any memory of who she had been. Maybe it was just one life after another, always starting over anew. It was disappointing to think there was no carryover, though. No tiny signs to tie one life to the next, reminding you that some part of your traveling soul remained unchanged. Who could say? It was probably best just to focus on the life at hand.

Not that it was necessarily any simpler, and searching for a trusted, steady path through this life was a lost cause. Through the years she’d lived and the advice she’d been given by those who’d lived twice as long, life never really became steady. Not permanently, anyway. There were lives that made her wonder why it couldn’t be true – people who had lived and worked successfully, by all appearances, and then found a peaceful retirement from life’s exhaustions. Or so it seemed, but even in peace, there were bound to be lurches and bouts of dizziness. The bittersweet truth was that life might be a little dull without them. “Letting it come-to just long enough to go veering off-course again,” she notes, not without a return of his smile. It was natural for people to be tempted by energy and chaos. For a little while, anyway, just long enough to remember that life was more or less out of their control, and to enjoy the brief rush of mystery. But mystery was frightening if it was peered into for too long. There were stars and embers all around, and sometimes a person was compelled to reach out.

Taking another sip before she sets her mug down, she follows his observation with an agreeing nod. Not only is it a luxury to be able to make decisions at all, but there is a certain strength required to avoid what’s easiest. Not everyone would – plenty would rather, she’s sure, preserve their safety, or the power they have in remaining anonymous. Revealing anything of your mind to another person is always dangerous, but she has never weighed that danger against the gain and decided to keep herself distant. At least not when she’s free to be herself; her curiosity runs too wild, and she has too much of a vested interested in people as people. Living hearts and minds to interact with, dangerous or not. “It always comes at a cost, I suppose,” be it a loss of trust, for having made the wrong decision, or an eventual loss of that connection altogether. Rarely, she liked to believe, those connections could be maintained, regardless of distance or protocol or life’s many interferences. Or maybe her heart did dream too loudly, and too whimsically.

But then he’s taking her up on her offer, not to mention expressing happiness at being on her theoretical side, and she flicks a warmer smile. There’s nothing particularly gourmet to be enjoyed, given the circumstances of her being on Myrkr at all, but it’s not an empty kitchen, either. Picking herself up from where she’d been leaning against the counter, she turns her attention to finding and then setting out a board for cutting, and then a knife to do so with. Handing a perfect stranger a knife may not have been entirely advisable, and she does cast a glance out toward the hall her attendant had disappeared down before she offers him one, but she still can’t bring herself to feel that she needs to be wary. He still has a saber on his hip, after all. “If you don’t mind chopping vegetables,” she suggests, bringing out the assorted vegetables in question. “They’re from here,” and she gestures to indicate the planet they’re currently occupying, stepping aside to allow him the room to help, if it was a genuine offer. “I don’t know how they are, though. This will be the first time I’ve tried them, too, actually,” because she hadn’t found herself with any particular reason to cook, until this point. There were always quicker and easier options, and the simple joy of fresh food could often be overlooked.

He'd argue that the experience of death as a gift would depend on how it happened and when in life that experience takes place. There are some that are taken far too young, in unexpected and painful ways, but on the other side of the coin, there are also some that are granted a peaceful death because they've lived long enough and old enough that death is a peace and a release. Like a lot of things in life, it can be taken either way pending the person experiencing it. He hadn't found death a gift when it had found him, and yet in some ways coming back from life was more a curse than a gift. At least, at the time it had been. His head dips a little at her amusement and he can't help the slight grin that slips on his features for her comment. "Hopefully not for many, many years to come, after you have lived a long and happy life though," he offers gently. Because he can already tell that the galaxy needs light like hers in it, someone that helps where she can without question or expectation of return. And who is to say they don't come back again in a different way like that, changed with their life experiences even if they don't remember them in their new life. But life at hand was definitely far more in front of them and now.

Demanding that they walk it and pay attention. Though it depended on what you counted as steady. Jon's life has been riddled by war for more years than he would like, but there was a steadiness to it. He had Sansa and Arya, his sisters were a steady constant in his life as he walked his path. Pillars to help guide him when he felt unstable or offer support when he was unsure. And some people found it in partners. Ned Stark had loved his wife and she was a steady anchor in his life that kept him fighting for his family, for their people when he needed to. And yet Jon's life had brought a dizzying effect to that steadiness between the two in some ways. One never knew how that steadiness would come into their life, or leave later if it left at all. "Well we have to have calms before the storms, do we not? And as much has chaos is fun sometimes a constant barrage of chaos and veering off course would leave us feeling like we might be going mad." And when you start to go a little mad, you can occasionally reach out and try to find a stabling course which in turn could knock someone else off their course. Though, it might also make a really cute story for meeting if things go well.

The easiest choices sometimes have a way of either leaving people with regret when they look back or blowing up in their faces because sometimes easy means your foundation isn't stable or sturdy. It's hard to remain anonymous though if you really want to get to know people too because by learning about others you always end up giving them at least a little bit of knowledge about you. He's curious about people as well a lot, but unlike her, he doesn't always ask questions. He's more the type to sit in a dark corner of the bar and just observe people over a mug of ale, watching them interact with each other to see how they are and what they're like. Less because he's cautious about talking to them, and more because there's just something so pure in getting to watch people just do their thing. "The question always becomes, does the benefit outweigh the cost though." Connections can be maintained so long as equal work was put into the communication. "And sometimes, even if it doesn't outweigh the cost it's good to have those experiences, to take that risk." His chances at love had ended in heartache but he doesn't regret that he took a risk either time either. The pain had helped him grow, and in some ways his own heart has said it'll try again when the right risk presents itself. Despite him being pretty solid about resigning himself to no love.

He likes that warm smile and how it lights up her features, his own warming in return. Gourmet isn't something he needs, really. He's hunted and cooked his own game, he's that simple of a man when it comes to food, and the gourmet meals hadn' started until after he was king, so he's still not entirely used to them. Shifting when she sets out the cutting board and knife, he nods easily at the job given to him. There's no missing the slight glance to where the third of their original party had disappeared to but he doesn't say anything for it, because he gets it to a point. He's still very much a stranger, and while he has weapons it's a little different in handing him what can be, essentially, a weapon. "I don't mind at all," he offers as he assesses the vegetables for a second. For the most part vegetables are vegetables, right? How different could they really be from his world or hers. "A first for us both then," he offers with a chuckle as he starts to cut them up, and hoping he's doing an okay job. He's great with a lightsaber, but that doesn't always translate into finese with a knife. Especially when against vegetables of a new planet.

A long and happy life; one more phrase that looked simple on the outside, but was far heavier when given a moment to sink in. Anyone could have a long life, that was true – anyone with enough luck on their side to avoid fatal missteps, or to possess the good health that everyone else surely took for granted. Years were easy to count. Happiness was more nebulous – it was much more difficult to measure. It was chilling, sometimes, to imagine the shadow of death finally drawing close, and then to realize that you’d invested too many years in something other than happiness. It wasn’t time that could be refunded. It was, rather, another intricate issue of the immediate ‘now,’ and of balancing every step taken: somehow making sure it was equal parts duty, survival and happiness. Whether or not anyone ever really achieved that balance, she couldn’t begin to guess. What she did know was that few people were inclined to wish a stranger a long and happy life. It was, again, a different situation for a queen: kindly declarations of good health and a long reign were typical. But like this, when she was not wearing the mask of queen? When he had no reason to speak such a selfless plea on her behalf? A long and happy life? For a moment she’s so stunned by the simplicity of that kindness that she pauses to glance back up at his face.

All she finds there is that shameless honesty, a gentleness that doesn’t make any sense for a king or a stranded traveler. But there it is, nonetheless. “Your people are lucky to have you,” she gives back just as gently, and it soothes some weary, troubled part of her to know that good kings remain. A blind assessment to make, maybe, given how little she actually knows of his rule, but what better test of character is there? To have a stranger in her borrowed kitchen, giving her not only his time and his company, but also the gift of transparent kindness? It strikes her as a noble thing, to be able to trust. He has no reason to, and stands to gain nothing in return outside of a meal and a place to sleep. It wouldn’t have been worthwhile for some people. The return of madness to the conversation captures her attention again, and she tips her head in thought while filling a small pot with water. “Right, balance in all things,” which is recited with a quirk of a smile, having no connection to the Force herself. “Although some do seem to find their balance in madness.” Which led only to smothering darkness, for the most part. Or to fundamentally unstable lifestyles, as he’d described of his own family’s history.

And there was, always, the question of worth. What the risk was worth, what the benefit was worth, and what the effort itself was worth, of daring to have any sort of experience at all. A measurement that was, like most things, possible only through the eyes of the person making it. There was no universal scale of worth. And she did have to agree, because sometimes there was nothing to measure. Sometimes life simply demanded to be lived, gain or no gain, for no other purpose than to live. To feel, and rejoice - and suffer - in that feeling. “Sometimes we don’t even stop to wonder.” Sometimes life fell into motion without question, and logical decisions were replaced with energy and impulse and the spirit of being an imperfect human. Setting the pot on the compact nanowave stove, she carefully brought the heat up before looking over to see how he was faring with the vegetables.

A man trained to handle a lightsaber should not, theoretically, struggle with a kitchen knife, but she watches anyway to be sure it’s a fair assumption to make. It seems to be, and her gaze drops from the knife to the vegetables he’s preparing, and she can only hope that whatever they’re about to throw together is at least halfway palatable. It’ll be more interesting than dry portions, at least, and the vegetables are colorful, which counts for something. Half of taste is appearances, one might argue. An impish smile dances at the corner of her lips as a relevant thought crosses her mind. “I guess you didn’t really need the knife. I’m sure the Force makes a smoother cut,” and she was assuming, given the lightsaber and his elevated title, that he was endowed with the gift of Force-sensitivity. Then, remembering where they are and what she has learned of the planet during her stay, she amends the quip. “In here, anyway. Supposedly things are different in the jungle.”

It's easy to find yourself spending too much time on work and other people's problems and not on your own happiness over the course of a time period. To let duty overtake your life, finding much too late in the night that the palace around you has been asleep for more hours than you can count and yet you haven't even changed into bedclothes. Time you can't get back, even if the duty was important, because there was only so much time in the day for getting a little bit of everything done. But the only person to make your happiness important and carve out time for it was you. It had been part of why he had a list of places he'd planned on stopping after the meeting, to carve out a little time that he was allowed to be himself and let himself be happy. And he's not sure why more people don't wish each other happiness, because it's such an easy offer to make and put out in the galaxy for the other person. Everyone should be allowed to be happy, at least in Jon's book. Even a queen or a king deserves to be happy, maybe even more so because they bear the weight of so much on their shoulders. Happiness ensures that maybe, just maybe they'll be able to bear that weight without crumbling or going mad.

Which is why all she'll find is that shameless honesty from him. Because it's a simple and yet completely selfless wish for her. No matter where life takes her, that she find some happiness in it. "You're very kind to say," he answers with a small duck of his head. He's not used to getting compliments back, but it does bring a soft smile to his face to know that someone thinks so of him. And for him, a meal and a place to sleep coupled with some good company is worth a lot. It may sound cynical, but it's occasionally hard to find good company, especially among strangers. So in a lot of ways, he's lucky she was near and found him. "Balance is good to find, even as it's occasionally hard to find." But it is always there under the surface if you're willing to find it or dig for it. To put in the work. Though his brow arches at the last comment about madness as he watches her. "It is a dangerous balance to walk though, I would assume. Especially for those around you watching you find that balance in madness." Because it would mean few would understand how you're thinking or working. Is it darkness or just a new turn of perspective that hadn't been viewed before? Who's to say at that point.

Worth and value were important things to know when it came to choices, and yet no there were no universal scale to measure them on. It wasn't like coin or credits where there was an equal exchange and you knew completely what you were getting because those risks could end up burning you or they could end up seeing you incredibly happy. But only taking that step and deeming the choice worth the potential pain or happiness would see you to either. Without that risk, it's just another door that's been walked past without even trying. "Sometimes there's no time to stop and wonder either, it's make a choice to take a risk or miss the opportunity entirely." Because life never stopped even while you stopped to try and consider your options. Blink and the decision has been made for you by standing and waiting to decide, and you rarely have the choice or opportunity to go back to that choice.

It's easy to tell he's comfortable with the knife itself, it's more if he's cutting them correctly. He's realizing as he cuts them that he hasn't spent a ton of time in the kitchen and cutting these are much different than preparing meat caught out in the woods. Though overall he seems to be doing alright with getting everything cut. His eyes slide up to her impish smile and he chuckles softly for her comment. "It'd be like using my lightsaber to cut a piece of gauze to bandage a wound though, far too much of it for such a simple task." There's the slightest lit to his tone though, teasing and amusement weaved in his words. "Out in the jungle, back home in the woods, believe it or not, I use a hunting knife to prepare game, not the Force either." Not to say he doesn't use it for the occasional menial tasks like bringing a cup to him if he doesn't want to walk across the room, but, "I've found for anything that requires a little more finesse than brute force, it's best to use the proper tools," he offers with a chuckle. "Unless you want them mashed," he grins.

Anyone ruled by a just king with a gentle hand was lucky. It wasn’t true for many across the galaxy; when rulers had total authority within their reach, it seemed there weren’t many who could resist abusing it. Cruelty was easier than kindness. It wasn’t a reality she liked to think about, and it was one she tried actively to avoid in her own rule. There was always someone willing to chastise a king or queen for ruling too gently, of course – there would always be an argument that respect rooted in fear was more efficient than respect rooted in love. She had never held efficiency above decency, however, and she was pleased to meet another likeminded individual. If he was as patient and approachable with his own people as he was with a stranger, then they were far more than lucky. They had, it would seem, a friend as well as a king. An unlikely combination, but one she was delighted to consider. It was more than courtesy or politeness to make note of it, then. It wasn’t an empty compliment, which she wanted to make sure he knew. “I mean it as more than a kindness. I feel honored to have met you, and I would be equally honored to one day visit your home,” where she could, perhaps, witness that ideal rule for herself. A place to admire and enjoy, rather than feel she needed to help lift out of the mire.

That duck of his head earns another half-hidden smile, and she flicks her gaze curiously over his form once more. Balance was, for its absolute necessity in the structure of life, abysmally hard to find at times. As if the galaxy took pleasure in pitting planets against each other in the effort to find it. She leans to open a cabinet, having to rise up onto her toes to reach into it as she speaks. There are some packaged noodles to be found somewhere. “The unending task of every generation – past, present and future,” and anyone who had fought a war in the search for balance could attest to its elusiveness. She has also had the experience of being pressed into a situation that demands an immediate reaction. “I think the greatest risk will always be doing nothing at all,” she agrees, and it has felt true in most scenarios she’s found herself in. Like taking a step, or writing a note. If there’s something, at least it can be corrected, edited. Nothing is nothing. Stagnant, silent.

Her attention is directed back to the Force and all its myriad uses, however, and she laughs at the thought of meticulously preparing a bandage with a searing blade of plasma. “At least you could cauterize the wound at the same time, right?” she can’t help but add, a playful smile lingering on her lips. Not that anyone would appreciate having an ignited lightsaber anywhere near their bandage or their wound. It’s entertaining to imagine when all it is is harmless imagination, though, and she looks down at the neat harvest of vegetable slices he has produced. With a plain knife, and no metaphysical skill at all. The bright note in his voice brings her gaze back up, a similar mirth lighting across her own face. Despite his dark features, there is also room for an energetic sort of light, and she is naturally drawn in by it. She is also eager to envision places she’s never been: jungles and forests where wild game is hunted and prepared. She’d never found herself participating in such an excursion, so there is something feral and fascinating about it.

“I imagine hunting with the Force would be both terrible and wonderful,” and she also knows she can’t really say, never having felt the Force or lived a lifestyle that would require her to hunt. But if a man could sense other creatures in the Force, wouldn’t he be able to sense them while he hunted, too? To feel them where they ran and watched and hid in the trees? To share a certain affinity with them, a communication she wouldn’t ever know – maybe a kind of empathy and gratitude as their energy was converted from one form to another? Having such a deep sense of another creature’s life must have some sort of lasting impact, wouldn’t it? And sometimes it’s much simpler than all that, and she breaks into a tickled laugh. “We can do a little bit better than a bowl of Force-mashed vegetables, I think.”

Ruling as a whole was its own sort of balance that each person had to figure out for themselves. How much of an iron fist did you use, how much compassion did you try and take with your people, and how much did you allow the words whispered or openly discussed about your rule dictate how you decided to alter your rule to gain more favor and less criticism. There are some that say he's softer than most, and yet he's killed before so they know he's capable of it. But then, you don't lead your people into battle and come out without blood on your hands, and he's very much a ruler that doesn't just send men to battle but joins them on the front lines. Granted there are still some that call him Queen Killer in quiet corners if you know which taverns to visit too, not that they object to his rule, but at the same time, they know who he is and how far he'll go to make sure that delicate balance is kept to do right for his family or his people. But overall he tried to be kind and patient with his people, to see both sides of the coin before making decisions. While he may make the hard decisions, they were done not for power or fear but for the good of those under his rule. His smile only grows a little more as he tilts his head, "I would be honored to have you visit and be able to show you around." And he means it, he'd be happy to have her as a guest and for her to be able to come and relax and enjoy what his system has to offer. While it's definitely kind of her to help Myrkr as she could, she also deserved to visit somewhere that didn't need help and could potentially be more of a vacation for her.

Eyes lift and watch her stretch to get the noodles from the cabinet and he can't help take a moment to watch her before he's offering, "Do you need help getting that?" Because he's taller than her and it would be far easier to grab it if she's having trouble. His head nods though at her words about the unending task, because it's true. It seemed every generation was left trying to find balance to live by or rule by. Wars could claim to be a balance, and yet some times he wonders if some of those wars could have found a better balance without bloodshed if the rulers had been able to meet in the middle somewhere, compromise somehow. But not everyone knows how to listen and take a step back either. Though his brow arches just a little in curiosity. "Does that mean even in matters of the heart though? That the greatest risk would be not trying should an opportunity come along?" Because that counts too right? Sometimes you have to take those risks in all aspects, even the heart and love, or you'll stand still while the world moves around you and passes you by.

Chuckling at her suggestion, he shakes his head. "Well, if it's cauterized, you almost wouldn't need the bandage either, just make sure it's clean since the wound is sealed and heat purified at that point." Because it is kind of funny to think of using a lightsaber and the Force that way. As terrifying as it probably would be for the person in question, he likes the way her face shows off her playful smile at the suggestion. And in the wake of her playfulness, his own expression lightens a little more as he sets down the knife now that he's done with the vegetables. He's pretty proud of them himself, though having the time and good conversation to keep him from hyper-focusing on doing a good job probably helped. If he were to defend how he did so well. As for hunting, he'd be more than happy to show her how to on Winterfell if she visited. He found it a nice retreat from the world, and he usually went alone because he never brought down more than he could eat or at the very least carry back to the keep to be shared with the people there, he's pretty sure her company would be a welcome addition to the hunting and getting away.

"Hunting with the Force does give some advantages for knowing your prey and helping to stalk it better," he affirms. He's used his senses to be able to stretch out and connect with a forest in a way that most don't have the ability to. And it's incredible to feel those life forces around you, to know which ones you're planning to take and which you already know despite their hiding are fine today, at least from you. "But there's something incredible about aiming a bow and staring down that shaft before you let it go to find its mark." And he's good, knowing the best spots so it's a quick kill and there's no prolonged suffering on the animal's part. Though he glances down at the vegetables he's sliced and nodded, "I think these look much better than Force-mashed," he agrees with a grin.

The thought only begins to glow with more excitement as she thinks about it – visiting near and distant systems has always been exhilarating. Practical, too, from a political standpoint, because any ruler needed to stay informed. Of matters in their own kingdom and those of their neighbors, because no matter how separate they might feel, everything was quite intricately connected. Westeros was so far from the center of her own map that she was guilty of knowing very little about it; she knew so little as to fail to recognize the system’s king when she stumbled across him in a forest. It was testament to his character, as she’s already noted, that he had met her as nothing less than a decent stranger, when there were several courses of action at his disposal. Generous enough now, still, to allow her the thought of one day visiting his home, and to escort here once she was there, and she could only begin to imagine what that distant world might be like. Foreign mainly in appearance, of course, because underneath the façade of politics and royalty, the lives of every day people weren’t so different, were they? They all looked up at the same vaulting dome of stars. Maybe she was wrong – either way, she did look forward to the invitation of finding out, revealing as much with a gracious smile. “It sounds like your home has a rich history, and I’m very curious to know more. I suspect their outlook on things like fashion are just as fascinating.” A personal interest, and one that she knows she wouldn’t be able to resist delving into if given the chance.

There is, also, the immediate fact that he is several substantial inches taller than her, and she doesn’t argue his offer to make use of them, chittering a guilty laugh. “Thanks, I’m sure it’s less painful than watching me struggle.” Which wasn’t to say she didn’t find her way around such mundane hurdles on a daily basis, lifting her eyes away from the muscled curve of his arm once she finds them following the motion of his reach. His question brings her attention back to his face briefly, and it’s another observation that she can’t argue. Matters of the heart are not so different from other matters of survival. The risks there, too, are often most lethal when they’re not taken. A heart can be bruised, or grievously harmed. Risks can lead to pain. But a heart can also heal, and be made to glow. But it has to take the risk of living in order to be made to do anything at all. Otherwise it can, like any living thing, be neglected, trapped by fear, and left to wither. She arches her own brow in return, with the spark of a cheeky smile at her lips. “Of course. The heart thrives on impulse, doesn’t it?”

Which was also why the heart was accused of being reckless and unstable, not to be trusted above matters of the more logical mind. She finds herself dropping another appraising glance over the vegetables he’s chopped, humming her approval as she reaches to take the board to begin transferring the neatly-cut pieces into a pan. “Are you implying that the Force is mostly for show, then?” It’s teasing, because there are plenty of practical applications of the Force, but it’s not often she’s had the chance to discuss the details of its use as she does now. There was something theatrical about it – acrobatics, concentrated physical strength, the flair of lightsabers – it was a show, whether it was intended to be or not. With hunting as the exception, maybe, and she listens to his description of the scene with a tilt of her head. It would enhance the dynamic between predator and prey, and make the threads of connection between them even more electric. A spiritual aspect, she liked to think, for a moment turning her focus over to assembling a make-shift sort of stirfry. It would be a shame to offer to make dinner only to be distracted away from completing it successfully.

“I would like to hunt one day,” and it is something she has no reason to actively pursue. There’s no need for a queen to, but maybe as a title-less visitor on a friendly planet, she could steal the time to learn. It seems like a moment every person ought to live through, even if she wouldn’t have any influence from the Force in doing so. Having someone skilled and patient enough to guide her through would be experience enough, and besides, he’s already proven that he would be indulgent enough to field her many musings on the Force. Enough so that she can at least piece together a blurry vision in her head, to imagine what it would feel like to sense another blazing lifeform within arm’s reach, and she can’t help another amused smile as she procures a spoon for stirring. “Not bad knifework for a king. Maybe one day you can show me what a meal prepared entirely by the Force looks like.”

He's definitely trying to learn more about those ruling around him, along with getting to know the Senate. Everything's been fairly quiet and Westeros has been on its own a lot but he's trying to change that as he can, slowly so people have time to adjust to it. So really, it's not wholly on her shoulders that she didn't recognize Aegon as a king, because it's also his system's fault for being so removed from the galaxy for so long. And truthfully he'd love to show her around and have her spend some time visiting his home. Potentially both his homes, both King's Landing and maybe Winterfell. Both are amazing to visit for two entirely different reasons and he's pretty sure she'd enjoy both, but he would agree that day to day life despite the view and cultures, does tend to be fairly similar no matter where you go. People work and trade or earn coin, they tend to farms or shops or families, if they're soldiers they train and if they're rulers they weigh on problems and policies, and after the day is done they go home to their families and wrap up their days. The how might be a little different between people, between planets, but a lot of it is similar. "It does have a rich history, though to be fair I would assume almost everywhere has a rich history if you know how to find it. Like I'm sure your homeworld has a rich history as well." Because none of the planets are new, really, which means their history is rich and deep, the only question is has it been sealed or burned to start new and leave the past in the past. He chuckles slightly as he shakes his head though, "The fashion is different depending on which planet in the system we're on. King's Landing is warm so the dress is more casual, some might say revealing. Where as on Winterfell it's cold most of the year, so leather and furs tend to be more in fashion. Something my sister, Sansa, would probably be happy to discuss with you at length when you visit if you so wish. She'd also be the one to show you the best stores for picking up clothing if you were looking to take some home." Because while he appreciates the fashion on women, it's not exactly something that he tends to discuss at length.

Painful isn't exactly the word he'd use to watch her stretch herself taller to try and reach the shelf, but he's not going to argue about it either. Instead, he moves up next to her, one hand brushing the small of her back to let her know he's closer before he stretches an arm to easily grab the pack of noodles that she'd been trying for. "I would never want you to struggle, especially if it's something I can so easily help with," he offers with a smile as he offers her the pack of noodles. It's not that she wouldn't be able to find them, because he's sure that she's gotten along fine on her own up until now. But at the same time, why struggle when he can be of help and an easy solution to the problem. Once the noodles are gotten, he shifts to give her more space again, not wanting to crowd her. He'd once heard that the heart was the strongest muscle in the human body, but then it had to be considering everything functioning counted on it. So even if a risk brings pain or feels like it's tearing it in two, eventually it'd heal itself. The beat of pain easing over time, leaving more opportunities for new risks, new wants. New open doors you hadn't expected to follow. No one wants the heart to wither, that brings more pain and tends to lead people to being grumbly, grouchy, and all-around harder to be around. "Impulse," he chuckles softly, "I would agree that it does. So long as we're not too tight on the reigns to keep it tethered from being able to take that leap."

The heart doesn't follow logic, but then neither do emotions. Logic and emotions always seem to be at war for people, because emotion tends to just be about following how you feel. It's closer to instinct, feeling a situation, taking a risk on someone because it feels right and you seem to click with them. Logic instead focuses on facts, which tends to be more of a tether keeping you grounded because logic says two people from different planets shouldn't work or different houses pending the situation. But emotion would argue that if they loved each other enough, they'd find a way to make it work. "Show and fighting, mostly. Why else would some be able to call lightning or fire from their hands?" It's not arguing the practical applications at all, but his smirk says that he's curious to see where she'll take his question. Because given the chance, were she Force-sensitive, instead of having to stretch for those noodles she could have just pulled them to her, no need for him or to try and stretch while struggling to reach them. And gods knows he's used the Force that way more times than he can count. Of course, Westeros' version of the Jedi, the Night's Watch, doesn't exactly have strict rules on how to use the Force either. They're taught how to control it, to use it for battle, and left to their own devices for the rest of it because it is an extension of them in a way. It's their ability. And like he's said, using it for hunting is a way he easily uses it, and he would agree it creates a connection that is somewhat spiritual. Which is also why he tends to give thanks to the animals he brings down, for their life and sacrifice, though it's a silent one said as he releases his arrows. Shifting, he leans against the counter a little to watch her make the stirfry before he pushes off a little. "Bowls are in which cabinet?" Because he can get those ready while she's cooking, making himself helpful again.

His head tilts a little as he gives a soft hum. "I can teach you how to hunt when you visit," he offers. It's something that will take time, but she can definitely learn the basics in a day or two. "Using a bow will take a little time though, because it requires a strength that's unique to it in how you draw it. Men that can wield a heavy sword or club still find trouble with a bow if they've never used one." She wouldn't even need to be a title-less visitor if she wanted to learn with him. Even if he knew she came as a queen, he'd be happy to take her out and teach her. The only difference is whether her guards would shadow them if she came as queen, to ensure her safety from both him and any animals they happened upon. As for being indulgent with her musings on the Force, to his testament, he's had some practice with his sisters asking questions so it's not new to explain it in a way that helps the other person understand to the best of his ability how it feels or seems. "Many thanks," he offers with a small bow that's slightly teasing, "That mean will most likely not be as pretty, or near as tasty I'm sure, but I'd be happy to try that some day."

That was fair, to believe every planet held its own unique history, all of them worth exploring. There were far too many worlds to visit in one lifetime, unfortunately, and much more history to learn than could ever be absorbed from books and holos and spoken stories. There was so much to know, and see, and feel – more than a single person could ever hope to glimpse. That was hardly a reason not to try and experience as many as she could, however, and while she couldn’t be sure whether the offer was genuine or simply a bit of courtesy, she did break into a bright smile. There was pride to be had in her own homeworld’s history, as well. “Naboo does have a fascinating background, and an ever-changing culture.” Ever-adapting, anyway, and organic, much like the natural world it drew its inspiration from. It occurs to her half a second later that she might have been wiser to leave her home planet unnamed if she was trying to maintain some sort of anonymity. It was difficult to be wary and withdrawn around someone who had so far been open and trusting with her, however. She felt no overwhelming need to be cautious. Which was, she knew, exactly the point at which she should be skeptical, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel it. There was no taking it back, anyway.

Besides, there is an entirely new realm of fashion to consider, which she does with a wheeling imagination. Those dressed for a blazing sun have all manner of flattering styles available to them, while those in the snow would, of course, make do with leathers and furs. There’s no doubt in her mind that she will indeed be looking to bring something back. “I look forward to meeting her. Fashion is woefully overlooked in some parts of the galaxy, I hate to say,” but if she might visit a place populated by those who appreciated it the way she did, then all was not lost. She’s jolted from that train of thought by the brush of his hand against the small of her back, a chill feathering up her spine as she takes the noodles with murmured thanks. Stepping to occupy herself with the package, she shakes her head at his words, not having lost a smile. “You’d be perfect to take to a market, or to have on-hand while decorating any room,” because then nothing would ever be out of reach. No frame would ever have to hang crooked. No drapes would ever be unevenly hung. She tips the noodles into the boiling water while reflecting on the heart and it’s usually-too-tight reins. “It’s best to let it run every once in a while. So it remembers how to beat.” Without being held at bay in a cage of ribs, by an overworked, anxious brain. It couldn’t be helped that living was dangerous.

His playful question earns another laugh, and she can’t resist turning practical Force applications to more frivolous ends. “Fire for igniting stoves and lightning for sparking the necessary ambient glow, of course,” and maybe vice-versa, too. Lightning for zapping the appliances to life, and fire for tending to the finer points, like lighting candles. Watching the Force be finessed so meticulously as to light a candle would certainly be worth seeing, but the Jedi have more serious outlets for the power at their fingertips. She looks up from the different pots she’s now supervising when he asks about the bowls, and she spends a moment remembering before lifting her chin toward the cabinet behind him. “There, I think. Probably on the top, so I’m glad you’re here.” It would be too easy if everything was within reach, the universe would probably argue.

But one thing the universe can’t keep her from doing is learning how to hunt, even if she knows she’ll probably arrive at that moment – if she is truly going to arrive there at all – anxious and uncertain. Mainly for the fact that it’s not something that will affect only herself, but the creatures who are destined to be involved, too. It’s not to be taken lightly, although for someone who was brought up hunting, and has learned over the course of many years how to be respectful and patient with it, it wouldn’t carry so much weight. It was just another part of his lifestyle, necessary and well-practiced. That meant there could be no better teacher, and given what she has already learned of his gentle demeanor, she doubts there’s anyone she would rather have at her side. She is surprised to hear that men who can swing a sword might not be as adept at drawing a bow, though it does make sense. “I do admire bows. Powerful but graceful, and more intimate than most other weapons,” which she felt made them perfect for the act of hunting, looking up again to find him bowing. A startlingly formal gesture, and she laughs before deciding that she has no choice but to return it with an equally-teasing curtsy. “I shall be honored to behold it, unattractive and bland as it may be.”

The abundance of history and planets to explore could potentially make a person feel a little small considering just how much there is of the galaxy out there. But sometimes people came along in their lives to give them a reason to reach out to that one specific planet or system of planets, to make sure it didn't miss their radar as somewhere to learn about or visit. And the offer was genuine from him, should she find herself wanting to accept it, though the fact that it earned a bright smile from her made his night even more. How could it not when she looks so happy? His own lips quirk in a smile, noting Naboo away to look into later since that's where she's from. "Does the ever-changing culture also mean ever-changing fashion for you to enjoy as well?" An evolving culture sounded interesting to him, not because it's odd for cultures to change over time, but he'd be curious to see how her planet's culture has changed given her reference to it. Maybe he'll read on Naboo on the long flight to his meeting now that he has a name for it. If she was expecting some recognition at the mention of her planet though, connecting her to the queen there, she won't get it from him because, like her, he hasn't read up too much on it so he doesn't exactly know what the queen looks like there either.

He's pretty sure her ship will be stocked with all manner of things to take home, even if she won't ever really need leather and furs of a colder planet anywhere else, she'd be prepared for it should the need arise later if she did. Plus, considering Sansa loves the fashion, he's sure she'll find something she'd fall in love with and decide she absolutely had to bring back. And sure there were fabrics that could supply just as much warmth as the leathers and furs, but it'd been kind of a tradition for the choice in fabrics on Winterfell, one that had't left even if the styles had advanced past leather armor. Diging more into the planet's history on the way they use them. "Is it? More used for what's needed in climate than looking amazing while doing it?" Because being from never traveling past his system, he wouldn't know much about everywhere else just yet. She's made him curious enough to ask at least, winning him over to discuss fashion. "I think I'd only want to rent out my abilities to a specific few in that case," he teases very gently. As helpful as his height might be, he can't say he'd be willing to help just anyone. Not just because he had more important things to do, but because he'd want the people he's spending the time like that to be more like her. Appreciative of what he's offering, but not going to abuse that offering either. Far to many people might take it for granted if he did it for them, especially once too often. And her comment on the heart softens his features as he watches her deal with the noodles, taking her in a little while she's not facing him to catch that look. "It'll surprise us on occasion, when left to remember how to beat, I think." It's more a murmur, but still loud enough to be heard by her in the small confines of the kitchen. Not that he fully realizes he said it out loud.

There's a hum of thoughtfulness from him as she laughs and offers her practical application idea. "Fire for igniting a nice bonfire or campfire maybe. If they're good, maybe some candles for that nice ambient glow," he offers. Though his nose scrunched just a little at the lightening for sparking the necessary ambient glow, because he's pretty sure the lightening, even if used carefully, isn't really great for anything save hurting or protecting. Chaos in sharp form, really. "Not sure the lightening gets the same pass." He turns where she indicates, opening the cabinet to get the bowls from the top shelf with a chuckle. "Makes things much easier. Though that would be another practical application of the Force. Using it to bring objects to you without having to stretch, or if you have one more thing than you have hands for, using it to help you carry things." The way he says it, definitely gives the implication he's done that before. Because really, who wouldn't sometimes?

They have training targets at the keep, so no animals or people will be harmed as she learns the equipment he uses to hunt, but he can also show her some of the tracking and how to move through the forest silently so as to go undetected. Some of the skills he can teach her for hunting could be applicable in other situations should she find herself somewhere she needs to be a little more aware of her surroundings or in a dangerous enough position to move quietly, near silently through her surroundings. Just because he can show her to hunt doesn't mean they need to take any actual animals down either should she not want to. Though he'd also assure her that the animals will be used for food and other things, nothing wasted for what they might bring back. "There's a stillness and an awareness to them that doesn't come with any other weapon I've used and trained with," he offers with a nod. Everything stops as he lines up his shot, breaths out and makes sure the wind is with him or he's calibrated to take in that the wind is against him. It's a patient sort of weapon to use, because there is a fine skill to it. "I think you'd look good using a bow," he murmurs with a smile, one which only grows at her curtsy back. "Well then one day we shall ensure I make it for you."

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OPEN RP POST — jurassic world, but with lightsabers??

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