Parents: The Outer Jedi
In a moment of distraction, a stray gust of wind, as casual as inbound crafts on Courascant, as chaotic as a sand storm on Tatooine, as violent as a starving Kell Dragon, thrust itself underneath his body and flung him over to one side. For a minute, only one hand was holding onto an extrusion in the almost uniform rock face. His legs dangled over an infinite abyss, layers of clouds and mist obscuring the ground far below. He turned and looked up, before his fingers could no longer hold him, and found another bulge just a few centimeters above him. He tried to swing back but the ferocious wind tugged at his grey robes and wouldn’t allow him to physically move himself. There was no other choice. He had to do it. It was either this or falling to his death. He focused on the clear bulge and wrapped his mind around it like a lasso. When he could feel the grip, the strong link between him and that impassioned piece of stone, he pulled. This was not the way he was taught this skill. He had to reverse engineer the trick, visualize pulling the immovable object but instead pull himself. He yanked harder, overcoming the pull of the winds and regaining his position on the side of the cliff. There, no trouble. Keep climbing.
Posted in From the Writing Desk by Eran with 4 comments.