[All that vision-sharing with Bastila had given Revan a crash course in how to control a mental exchange, though even as she "learned," she now realizes, she had merely been remembering. Besides, her sense of self had been strong enough to survive the combined might of the Jedi Council attempting to crush it. A friendly chat is nothing.
Combat doesn't surprise or shock her. What stops her, figuratively and literally, is the taste of Mita's power, an alien thing that seems separate, dangerous, not the warm immanence of the Force that sings within Revan like her own voice joining a mighty choir when she seeks it. She echoes the unsettling sensation back to Mita, attaching her curiosity, and then offers her own experience. Warmth. Belonging. The weight of a lightsaber hilt in her hand, the snap-hiss of ignition, the hum and glow of the blade as welcome as an old friend. Her own body, moving with the naturalness and inevitability of the tides as the world slows around her. Joy, by turns fierce as Tatooine's twin suns and profound as Manaan's ocean depths. And underneath it all, the peace which passes understanding.]
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Combat doesn't surprise or shock her. What stops her, figuratively and literally, is the taste of Mita's power, an alien thing that seems separate, dangerous, not the warm immanence of the Force that sings within Revan like her own voice joining a mighty choir when she seeks it. She echoes the unsettling sensation back to Mita, attaching her curiosity, and then offers her own experience. Warmth. Belonging. The weight of a lightsaber hilt in her hand, the snap-hiss of ignition, the hum and glow of the blade as welcome as an old friend. Her own body, moving with the naturalness and inevitability of the tides as the world slows around her. Joy, by turns fierce as Tatooine's twin suns and profound as Manaan's ocean depths. And underneath it all, the peace which passes understanding.]