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I don’t know why I put it on. Curiosity maybe, wanting to see things from his perspective.
You can’t see anything through the slit, it only allows the barest form of light in. Your breathing is amplified it’s all you can hear. Breath, blood, a rhythmic pounding. It’s oddly calming the lack of ambient noise, of anything.
He had bested at least five Jedi while wearing it, you would think it would create a type of detriment, but it hadn’t seemed to affect him. I looked around the room, aware of nothing. It was an empty enough space that I didn’t have to worry about crashing into anything.
I couldn’t imagine fighting with it. I could barely walk.
How did he?
The question is answered as quickly as I thought of it. A figment, a wave of color bursts in front of me. Bright and jagged in darkness. My breath catches and I almost lose my footing.
“Focus, Osha.” His voice muffled as it is, is coming from directly in front of me. From the bolts of mired color. He’s close.
I stiffen and immediately try to take the helmet off. A force keeps it in place.
“Not yet,” I can’t read his tone in here, it seems odd that I can hear him at all. It’s even drowned out the waves crashing against the rocks, but I can still hear him.
I put my hands back down.
Titling my head at waves of color shifting in front of me. I watch them pulse and weave. I get the urge to disrupt their circuit and stick my hand out to touch them. My fingers brush against something warm and pliable. I pull back as soon as I register that it’s him.
He catches my hand. “It takes some getting used to. But it’s effective against any distractions.”