Hannibal silently moved himself over to the crates, deactivating his lightsaber and seating himself such that he was leaned against the wall of the hangar. He clipped his weapon back in place on his belt and flexed the fingers of his left hand several times, the shaking quickly passing. He looked up as Talak returned, taking hold of his glass in his right hand and swirling it idly. He recognized wine from Naboo easily enough and took a slow drink from it after a moment.
His expression went quite blank as Talak asked his question, his eyes closing and head leaning back against the wall. The Living Force flowed into him like water, focusing the flashing echoes to some degree, impressions translated through a variety of senses. At least they were in something resembling the correct order.
"Hatred and rage and spite at a man who has turned away from his path, suffocation and weakness as though poisoned, a rush of heat followed by the cold floor as life fades away." He tensed up, going over the last moments of Sol's life again, though under more control than before.
"Determination and defiance, the smell of burning flesh and clothes, red and blue clashing over a hundred lives ended by a flash of pain." His right hand briefly clenched, the echo of the wounds Talak had received at the hands of Sol Puara in the prison.
"Hearts breaking in the heat of war, the smell of antiseptic and flowers and laundered cloth, the sound of chaos from a holoscreen calling a man to fight to his last breath. Panic and worry in the depths of space, blood running as cold as the metal plates, then burning with rage and a new direction." Hannibal was rather expressive as he spoke, as if reacting to a scene playing right in front of him. This was essentially what was going on in the end, unable to focus entirely on the present as he sank into the images.
"Anger and pain leads the mask to the end of wicked men, the dark lit up by crimson and the hum of a lightsaber, then just as quickly pushes it away from it all. Frustration and worry, the feeling and sound of a hand banging against a metal door, the softness of a well-use couch. The smell of brownies fills the air, the sound of a crashing ship, the sight of two figures dancing and yet still, burn-" Nope. He cut off there, the rush of different emotions more than he was willing to deal with or speak about. The next bits were a rollercoaster, and he wasn't even properly meditating. Besides, despite the fact Hannibal had no idea he was moving in reverse order of when individual scenes had occurred, his psychometry tended to focus on emotionally charged moments that left strong impressions. It was probably just as much if not more embarrassing for Talak to hear his vague descriptions as it was for Hannibal to be experiencing them.
"Most of it isn't very clear. You probably got more out of that than I did. There is... A lot, honestly. If I got anything out of it, it's that you are a good person, whatever your time with the Sith was like." His expression went back to neutral, not a hint of his usual smirk, and he looked rather tired. He was being honest with Talak. The Arcanist had taken off his mask and fought for the lives of others just as the Jedi and the Rangers had, so letting his own mask drop felt like the least he could do. He took another gulp of his wine, then placed the glass down on the crate next to him.
"Maybe I was right about that mask of yours in the end, huh?" He smiled a little, one where his eyes joined in with the rest of his face. A subtle change from his usual, but the change might as well be lit up in neon lights to someone who had seen his cavalcade of expressions in the past.
His expression went quite blank as Talak asked his question, his eyes closing and head leaning back against the wall. The Living Force flowed into him like water, focusing the flashing echoes to some degree, impressions translated through a variety of senses. At least they were in something resembling the correct order.
"Hatred and rage and spite at a man who has turned away from his path, suffocation and weakness as though poisoned, a rush of heat followed by the cold floor as life fades away." He tensed up, going over the last moments of Sol's life again, though under more control than before.
"Determination and defiance, the smell of burning flesh and clothes, red and blue clashing over a hundred lives ended by a flash of pain." His right hand briefly clenched, the echo of the wounds Talak had received at the hands of Sol Puara in the prison.
"Hearts breaking in the heat of war, the smell of antiseptic and flowers and laundered cloth, the sound of chaos from a holoscreen calling a man to fight to his last breath. Panic and worry in the depths of space, blood running as cold as the metal plates, then burning with rage and a new direction." Hannibal was rather expressive as he spoke, as if reacting to a scene playing right in front of him. This was essentially what was going on in the end, unable to focus entirely on the present as he sank into the images.
"Anger and pain leads the mask to the end of wicked men, the dark lit up by crimson and the hum of a lightsaber, then just as quickly pushes it away from it all. Frustration and worry, the feeling and sound of a hand banging against a metal door, the softness of a well-use couch. The smell of brownies fills the air, the sound of a crashing ship, the sight of two figures dancing and yet still, burn-" Nope. He cut off there, the rush of different emotions more than he was willing to deal with or speak about. The next bits were a rollercoaster, and he wasn't even properly meditating. Besides, despite the fact Hannibal had no idea he was moving in reverse order of when individual scenes had occurred, his psychometry tended to focus on emotionally charged moments that left strong impressions. It was probably just as much if not more embarrassing for Talak to hear his vague descriptions as it was for Hannibal to be experiencing them.
"Most of it isn't very clear. You probably got more out of that than I did. There is... A lot, honestly. If I got anything out of it, it's that you are a good person, whatever your time with the Sith was like." His expression went back to neutral, not a hint of his usual smirk, and he looked rather tired. He was being honest with Talak. The Arcanist had taken off his mask and fought for the lives of others just as the Jedi and the Rangers had, so letting his own mask drop felt like the least he could do. He took another gulp of his wine, then placed the glass down on the crate next to him.
"Maybe I was right about that mask of yours in the end, huh?" He smiled a little, one where his eyes joined in with the rest of his face. A subtle change from his usual, but the change might as well be lit up in neon lights to someone who had seen his cavalcade of expressions in the past.
@Phoenix