The wall did not give, for now, but there was the distinct sense, something between a sound and a vague feeling, that it was hollow, as if the push continued to echo through some immense space beyond, just at the edges of hearing. They could both feel it under their feet, a sort of faint vibration in the stone when something suppressed most of the force of the blow, and sent the rest back at them at a slight delay.<br/><br/>Procion nodded, and, glancing over to the Jedi, carefully placed his hand next to Johte's own, the edges of their palms just touching. "On three," the Sith instructed, his voice quiet, and licked his lips absent-mindedly. Side by side, the two were easy to compare; they were a similar height, Procion perhaps an inch or two shorter, and of a lighter build. No doubt above ground, he would have been as neat and tidy as any of those other Sith, but here, he shared some of Johte's careless appearance, the side of his face still covered by bandages, tousled, red hair hanging free down to his shoulderblades and further. Unlike Johte's robes, the suit left little to the imagination, and the pureblood found himself drawn to that difference - drawn to imagine. He shook his head a little.<br/><br/>"One. Two. Three." His body tensing reflexively at the work done by his mind, Procion channeled the Force into a small spot of the wall under his palm, concentrating the energy in a narrow beam.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>