Ever since arriving at the Citadel, Mek’s companions had seemed… awed. Wen Yanbo said something about this place being strong in the Force, but Mek wasn’t sure what that meant. That’s when the miracle happened.
The light touch of a hand on his shoulder, and then the world exploded. A thousand sensations filled his mind, their sources unclear. It felt to Mek as if he’d never used his eyes or ears before, and now everything was wreathed in energies formerly unsensed. Phantoms of other places and times crowded for attention, and just focusing on as simple a task as remaining standing proved a challenge.
Rising from the chaos, a familiar voice; he realized someone was talking to him. “…see what we feel all the time, although certainly not to this extent. This place is truly powerful in the Force.” Mek could only dumbly nod in assent, though he was unsure who spoke. The sensations even then were fading and clarifying, as if finding the space in his brain where they belonged. His head felt full, a constant pressure of sensory stimulus that he could only mostly control and contain.
Fifties has apparently beaten them here, and everyone had started away to meet him. Jogging to catch up, Mek wondered how long the hangover from his brush with the Force would last.
Hours later, sitting in a cantina with Fifties and Roc, and trying to make sense of the tragic and traumatic events of the day, he slowly began to realize that the “hangover” may, in fact, be permanent…