Deep lake sand, grains of black and gray, brushed over the bare skin of their leg on some errand current. Sounds echoed in the water, flowing on its own and swirled mindlessly at the urging of living things passing through. Cool, brackish waters pressed in all around them, neither so heavy or cold, nor truly saline as home, but comforting even so. Below mortal hearing was the background current of the Force, rooted in shadow in the black of Lake Natth. Further still, flitting just above the veil, what was left of the dead. Still only shreds and echoes. As always.
Down there in the dark, still, for who knew how long, Nakoa had sat. Air purged from amphibian lungs, lake water pulled through gills so infrequently one might mistake them for just another ghost to be. It felt like that at times, and in those times they found a place like this to find something like a center. When their limbs felt too heavy to walk, much less swim, they sank to the bottom and just... listened.
To their heartbeat, slow and steady. To every breath they took. To the things that whispered at every moment. To voices that screamed in joy, terror, and horror. That laughed, sobbed and choked, begged, raged, and died. Heard as if from far away, yet so close as to be, at times, an unbearable cacophony. At least outside the city, deep in the lake where all living things were simple intuition, it was quieter.
And it was where they practiced, in moments like these when the burdens felt heavy beyond measure. Nakoa had the meditations and techniques of their own people, the Bendu Gessesit sect. And they had meditations from the Forgotten Valley, gifted by Arla. But there was more, now. Something just beyond notice until the kyber in their crystal had been attuned. When these disparate meditations had been altered and evolved to function together as a whole.
The little threads, for lack of a better term, through which the thoughts and feelings of all in the Force, living or dead, traveled to Irirangi like some archaic communication device. The currents, echoing outward to flow inexorably to Nakoa's perception of existence. Like threads, it could be pulled toward himself. Like water currents, they could be redirected. They'd been doing it unconsciously even, from time to time. When a fight was to be had, and Singh's flashed with power, the energy of combat filled their body with vigor and ferocity.
Vigor was stolen from enemies arrayed before them. As emotions spiked- fear, hate, anger, suffering, pain- Nakoa drew on their own and in doing so pulled the threads to further feed the dark power that rose within him. Enemies' loss and Nakoa's gain. With that knowledge, Nakoa now practiced doing so intentionally. Identifying the threads, the currents. Pulling them, redirecting them. It was like exercising a muscle they'd never really paid attention to before.
Fingers of will reached out, found a thread, and pulled. A wall of thought found a current and dammed it elsewhere. It was difficult, and strange. But it was power, too. Something coming from empathic gifts beyond an oft-unwanted glimpse into the lives of others.
Just in front of Nakoa, there was a brush of moving water, the feeling of weight settling into sand. They opened their eyes.
A Hssiss had settled, barely a meter away, at the bottom of the lake. Its eyes were unfocused, its limbs lethargic. Water currents pushed lightly against the beast and it wobbled back and forth, seemingly without a care for it or Nakoa's nearby presence. Other such beasts were drawn to the Wrean in the water, but never so close, cautious things that they were these days. But this one didn't care.
It didn't care about anything. Not the Wrean's presence or the hunger in its belly. Not its instincts to hunt and kill and feed, not its packmates swimming in the middle distance. Nothing mattered to the reptile. Nothing at all. Even caring enough to hold its breath now was becoming just a little too much effort.
And Nakoa, so burdened as he was, didn't feel any of it. Not the apathy, not the steadily increasing burning in the beast's chest at it ran out of air. There was only an easing of their own burden, at least for a moment. A spark of- not hope, precisely, but triumph and understanding. This was new and wondrous. A discovery!
The Shaman released the thread. All at once the reptile's emotions and instincts kicked back in, darting upward to find fresh air.
Irirangi smiled and swam toward shore.