If Johte was the blunt instrument of this analogy, then Procion was the scalpel, his manipulation of the Force quick and precise. The steady pressure provided by the Jedi was interspersed with regular, stronger pulses that felt almost like stabs or sharp punches through the Force; as the invisible kinetic energy whipped the air around them, so too did it whirl past their senses and psyches, giving each a deeper glimpse of the other's mind and method. It conjured images of solid bedrock, and of treacherous water, before the pureblood dismissed them with an annoyed frown.<br/><br/>The frown turned into a triumphant smirk a moment later when the wall strained, then cracked, and Procion drove the Force into that crack like a wedge. Chunks of rock followed the dust, and a trickle of water, as the crack widened downward. Pulling back, the pureblood let the charge dissipate, waiting for the dust to settle, and idly pulled a penlight from his supply pack. "Well done," he congratulated the Jedi, sounding entirely sincere.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>