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Chapter 10: Revealed Descention and Mini WarCH.10
Devin blinked, standing in a white void with a thin mist around him. He turned in a slow circle, freezing as another figure appeared. They came closer, his footsteps echoing loudly in the void as he approached Devin. He stopped before Devin, holding his gaze with his own.
"Who-"He held up his hand to silence Devin.
"I am Revan, previous Sith Lord and the original owner of the mask you now have in your possession."Devin frowned
"Why are you contacting me?"Revan remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Devin. "There has to be a reason you're trying to speak with me."
"You are strong in the Force, perhaps more so than myself, and your destiny has begun to take shape now that you no longer are in your fight for peace alone, but your path will be plagued with the dark side of the Force and you must not give in to that temptation. Do not let your path to peace be swayed by the dark."He began fading, his voice echoing and becoming softer as he turned to leave."Now go, child of my blood,
Chapter 9: Answers Lead to TragediesCH.9
Devin stood, staring, and slowly processed what Xero had just said, his mind numb with confusion. Xero shuffled nervously, her cheeks bright red in embarrassment.
"Please say something ."Devin stepped forward, hugging her tightly and placing one hand on the back of her head, holding her close. He smiled happily
"I've waited a long time for someone to say that ."She nodded, already feeling the dread creeping into her chest. "I love you too." Xero blushed deeply, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his torso. She almost gasped, the screams silencing completely. She smiled, hugging him tightly with her ear pressed to his chest lightly. He chuckled.
"What brought on the change?"
"Yoda had a little bit of a tirade about how ignorant I was and how I should work harder to understand your feelings and guess what. We're wiser now and we're searching for that blasted helmet. It looks like he got his wish." Devin laughed, Xero hiding her face in his chest. She stood silen
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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