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Let's just all pretend that the mun posted this before the epic meeting started, yes?

Anyway. There was asking of Inties, and tracking-down of movie sets (during which he got to ride on a land-speeder), and now Steve is dressed proudly in a set of rough brown robes.

If anyone wants to ask him why he's dancing around the Cooper farm fields, waving his hands about like he's got some imaginary sword and making "whnng-whnng" noises under his breath, now's the time.

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(Well, the calligraphy would be on ground level, or at least the narration is assuming it would be so. And Steve is starting to wonder a little plaintively why they couldn't have looked at the landscape from the straps of the jetpack.)

For what it's worth, he's trying very very hard to have the epiphany.

(Hard enough that he doesn't notice the hands, yet, either.)

"So it sort of-- makes them all into something coherent?" he ventures.

"...A little bit, yeah. It..."

The narration tries desperately to avoid the duct tape metaphor.

"...holds the universe together. Universes, I guess. It's where everything is, and it's where they're not, and it's the difference between a bunch of attached atoms and a molecule. Between a collection of functioning cells and a living organism."

Hence the tree. This is the organic way to learn how Satya views the Force, and organic things have sap! Well, some of them. This one does, at least.

"Oh," says Steve.

He just got it.

That is actually awesome.

...OH SWEET IT WORKED HE DOESN'T THINK SHE'S CRAZY.

Beam!

Encouraging nod.

"So whilst Frankenstein's monster is a scientific impossibility," muses Steve, who's never had much regard for the label 'scientific impossibility', "tactical application of the Force could make it not only possible but likely?"

...That is so much more complicated than a jet.

"...if I knew what Frankenstein's monster was, maybe I could answer that."

"There's a novel in my world about a man who creates a new human out of bits of dead ones and a lot of lightning. It's some fable about not playing God or something." That last part dismissively. "But the biggest theoretical stumbling-block was always the creation of sentience."

This grin? This is probably not a grin he should be wearing.

"Steve?"

She raises her eyebrows at him, halfway between exasperation and amusement.

"If you don't give up right now on using the Force to make creepy zombie men, I'm throwing you out of the kriffing tree."

With a slight grin, "I think you've heard we have a name for what you get when you add lightning, the Force, and a desire to kriff around with things you shouldn't."

She's half joking here. You can tell because she lacks any trace of that face she put on when she showed him what not to do with a light-weapon.

"I give you my word as a padawan that I won't try to take over the universe with them," says Steve, whose lightsaber will always resolutely be... whatever colour it ends up as that is not red.

THIS WAS SO TOTALLY WORTH CLIMBING A TREE FOR.

"Uh-huh," says Satya, sounding debatably convinced.

And she ruffles his hair again, 'cause really, what else can you do?

Not a lot else, apparently.

Steve is already wondering what colour its eyes should be.

Satya, meanwhile, hops lightly off her branch and scrambles to the ground like a monkey.

A monkey who is a massive showoff.

Steve laughs in appreciation of her acrobatics. They are admittedly impressive.

Now, how does he get down?

...oh, hell.

"See, now would be a good time for you to learn how to Force-levitate," she says, grinning evilly up at him.

"I dislike you immensely," he calls down to inform her, edging back and forth along the branch like a large ginger bird trying to decide when to fly.

"Now I know I'm a good Jedi Master."

Why, yes. She IS beaming.

"Bah."

Down he comes, with the exquisite speed and elegance of a hospitalized terrapin.

"I want my jetpack."

"Uh-huh. Come on, grab your robe and let's get back to the farm. I think you need a shower."

There is much back-patting. He did good! Really!

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