Worst Jedi
In the gardens of Silver Rest
There was always something about the temple, a sense of calm purpose that suffused the walls and air of the refuge. It was the kind of place you could just sink into, lose yourself in the calm flow of the place. The sound of laughter, a class of younglings getting to try out lightsabers in one of the gardens batting at the little stingers of energy as training remotes weaved in and out of them. It was a sight that reminded the pink-haired Padawan of her own youth at a temple not too different from this, with friends and problems, similar to the ones that these younglings would be facing now and in the future. It had been…fun, not having to concern herself with anything but learning the lessons and sneaking away to spend time with her friends. Not that any of them would recognise her now, aqua eyes dropped down to stare at the pink hand that rested on the cool metal of the railing that ran around the edge of the platform where she’d retreated to relax. A part of her still expected to see the red flesh of her old body, in those first moments of the day when she woke in the morning or when she just stared at herself in the mirror, the face staring back at her coming as a surprise.
They were moments that were increasingly rare, but not moments she could entirely escape from, at least not yet, she wasn’t sure what to expect, what she’d do on the day when the face staring back at her was the one she expected to see. Stepping away from the edge she reached out a hand, her lightsaber shivering on the stone bench of a moment before it slid up, slicing through the air to slap into her palm with a resounding thud. The Padawan shrugged her shoulders, letting her sweatshirt slip off her shoulders to pool on the ground by her feet as her fingers slid down the weapon to flick on the switch, the silver blade thrumming to life in her hands. Closing her eyes the young woman just stood there for a moment, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun as it shone down onto the bare skin of her arms. Without opening her eyes she slipped her blade into a defensive guard, the energy blade angled up across her body as one foot slid back along the stones as she shifted her weight backwards.
Eyes still closed Asaraa slowed forward, the blade cutting upwards into the air as she smoothly on one foot before letting it fall down in a full body cut. Backwards and forwards across the platform she slid, her movements fluid, hints of that dancer’s grace visible as she worked through the kata fencing against a figure, an opponent who was just in her head in a battle that could never be one or lost. Guard and strike, dodge and thrust, the Padawan slipped from form 5 into form 2 and back again, never holding herself too long in one style as she pushed through the pattern before freezing, her lightsaber held a lot in a two-handed grip balanced across her body as she froze, sweat beading on her skin as she focused on keeping her breathing steady and light.
[member="Vennic Graves"]