ɴᴀɢᴀɪ ᴅᴜᴇʟɪsᴛ
JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
A lone figure stood poised in the center of a dim training room.
Jand's chalk white skin, contrasted by his pitch black hair, was unmistakable. Especially since he only wore loose pants, which left his lean upper body free of clothing, and revealed a sequence of interlocking circular tattoos down the middle of his back. A far cry from the usual Jedi robes the young Nagai wore, this outfit was used to serve a purpose, as was the odd metal sword held in his right hand that presented a slender pointed blade.
It was late evening, few wandered the training halls, and it had proven to be an agreeable time for Jand. The months since he joined the Jedi Order had been... taxing. The young Nagai had left his home, his family, which were central to his species' existence; there was nothing more valued or cared for than blood relatives to the Nagai, save in particular instances that were well outside Jand's reasons for consideration at his young age. As it was, the adjustment from close relative family unit on Saijo, to distant strange acquaintances at the temple, had been difficult - especially for a Nagai. Still, Jand had been raised to overcome adversity, to topple obstacles, and to confront challenges.
Yet, it was that very upbringing in his warrior culture that - ironically - brought the youth the most trouble.
The Force.
It wasn't common in Jand's family, it wasn't something he had learned of or about in his childhood, there had been no instruction or Force Sensitives that he had known. His life had been martial training from an incredibly young age, almost from the time he could walk, as was Nagai custom. That upbringing had not accounted for Force development, and while Jand had touched on it throughout the years, the focus had always been on traditional methods. As a result, the mysterious power was exactly that to him, a mystery, one that he struggled to utilize and apply in his Jedi training daily. It felt like a constant source of failure, where others - especially equally young Padawans - could wield the light side as though borne to it, performing amazing and inspiring feats.
That was not Jand.
His connection to the Force was average, at best.
And so it was why the young Nagai trained as he did, in the evening alone, so that he might find comfort in his Jedi-specific shortcomings with meditation from his culture.
"Focused in body and weapon."
From the center of the room, Jand lowered into a crouch on flexible legs, as he held the metal sword horizontally near his chest with one hand. The other arm was outstretched, parallel to the thin blade. He remained still, eyes closed, then with a suddenness of movement, propelled himself forward; and using his outstretched hand, planted it firmly on the training floor, to then leap into a cartwheel and push into a deft flip from that one arm--
"Poised to strike."
--the sword lashed out, a blur of silver in the air, before Jand landed with a grunt onto his hand again. His body teetered as he balanced himself, upright with his legs in the air, then slowly rolled his body to touch the ground with the bare soles of his feet - not too dissimilar to a gymnast, in some ways. The Nagai was back in his low crouch, knees bent, with the sword held close and his left hand extended alongside the blade.
Hm?
Jand felt eyes on him.
He turned and opened his own, gray stare at the door to the training room, before he spoke.
"Oh. Hello."
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