A hand encouraging her general to desist lifted ever so slightly from the arm of the throne. It was a subtle movement, but the palm facing outward was enough for Khyon to step back. He’d reacted poorly to the intrepidness of this new visitor, and certainly believed her disrespectful salutations was enough to get detained, or at least dragged out from the queen’s sight.
Slowly, the elegant silhouette draped in white rose from her seat. The beast behind the throne stirred only slightly, lifting its head when it’s mistress moved in silence. The gentle tap of her feet against the stones down to the ground where her daughter stood. A transcendental appraisal initiated the moment the girl stepped foot in the palace, and only refined now that she had full optics on her offspring. Kiskla’s senses detected much apprehension from the figure before her. The clone was stronger in the empyreum than she’d been on Sullust when they’d first mett. Something had changed. That spark she’d felt before had been close to fading. It appeared the daughter had found a pilot light, and was now starting to grow into an infectious flame. A little caelum warrior. An ultrafine curve found its way to her lips, the only marvel of an impressed expression the mother figure had ever exhibited to the clone.
There was still a few meters between them, and Kiskla kept an even pace on approach. Balancing two options for a greeting appropriate for the little clone warrior. Apparently she’d come to visit the research facilities, which the mother deduced as her child seeking to know about her history. Likely seeking to answer the unknowns so she could gather enough contextual stimulation to grow that ethereal flame into a wildfire.
“Hello Loske.” She broke the silence, folding her hands in front of her and keeping a few feet between them as she drew to a standstill. By way of explanation for the poor salutations her daughter had received when trying to land, Kiskla explained the Guardian's point of view:
“We didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to see me..”
Kiskla didn’t show it, not even a little, but the comment hurt. She hadn’t known about her two would-be-clone-children until that fateful day on Sullust. When she’d learned about them, she didn’t know how to react. She wanted to be overinvolved, to protect them. Marcello had advised otherwise, and suggested she wait for them to reach out. Pearlescent gaze narrowed at the youth before her, who looked to be about a decade or so younger than Kiskla herself, otherwise they very well could have looked like a mother and daughter. The resemblance was uncannily intentional.
“Why are you here.”
Loske hesitated to answer at first, before finally exhaling and shifting her eyes around the room, intentionally not making eye contact.
“I came to see the research facilities. To look into my past.” She held up her hand, as if that was indication enough of what she was intending. Kiskla was used to speaking in fragmented riddles, and could assume her daughter meant she was planning to use psychometery in the facility.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“I need to do that. I need to unlock everything that’s buried inside me, see all that’s been shoved and stowed away in there. It's starting to cause harm to people I care about.” The girl’s voice almost cracked at that statement, and a flicker of pity fluttered through Kiskla’s chest. Again, her expression remained stoically indifferent.
“You’re training to be a Jedi?”
“I’m training to use The Force.” Loske corrected, the waiver in her voice disappeared. This confirmed the former Grandmaster’s suspicions. Seemed there was much of her husband in this little clone.
From nowhere, Kiskla’s two blades snapped to her hands, ignited and swept powerfully toward the girl in an aggressive horizontal attack. She could feel Loske’s surprise before the the girl knew what was coming.
The one blade came in, and Loske dodged it, bending backwards and angling her shoulders. The next blade came in quickly thereafter, and the clone did the same thing, adrenaline and shock the primary motivator for her quick responses. Loske’s left right hand hit the ground to stabilize her backward bend, left leg coming around for a sweeping kick as she rotated and rolled away from the Jedi Master. Kiskla felt an invisible yank to the hilts of her blades, redirecting her next strike to pierce the marble floor rather than the clone, leaving hideous, cauterized streaks while Loske scrambled to the fore, pushing her droid out of the way despite his protests. Good. Kiskla hated droids. Loske also used this time to finally get her lightsaber out and use it. She brought it in a forward lunge to Kiskla, who met the strike with both blades and parried it away. Loske was using momentum now, twisting to the right and left with her downward slashes, pivoting from the same foot each time. One by one, Kiskla deflected with the respective opposing sword. Azure and gold exploded from each of the sword lengths when they met in cacophonous clashes. Loske made a downward strike, seeking to cleave, which Kiskla met with her blades in an ‘X, twisting it swiftly so the saber was relieved from Loske’s grip and spiralled high upwards. With no blade now to protect herself, a flare of panic was detected from the youth. Kiskla didn’t register much more than that, before the sole of Loske’s boot connected with her chest and sent her backward with a frustrated oof. Kiskla lurched forward, with a move that would have impaled Loske if she’d still been standing there. Instead, the girl seemed to have augmented her dexterity, and scaled part of the pillar, leaping to intervene and catch her hilt in mid air before landing behind Kiskla in a superhero touch down pose, activating the blade once again and launching forward, to which Kiskla met with a swoop of her two blades again, and Loske dipped her body to skim underneath the blow and kick out at Kiskla again. Something the queen attributed to Loske’s affinity for Teras Kasi. There was a lot of kicking going on here with this little blonde opponent. Loske righted herself again, poised to strike with a practiced fluidity Kiskla respected.
To buy a second or two to further assess her opponent, Kiskla rotated her blades on either side of her. Loske’s breath was heavy, Kiskla could see her chest heaving from where she was standing, and there was an aggressiveness to her posture that was unrefined. The pair activated again, kicking off from their respective positions and letting their blades collide in the middle. Twists, dodges and strikes were passed between them to little avail on either side, although it was apparent Loske was predominantly forced to be reactively on the defensive. In a whirl of blue light, the hilt of the golden blade clattered to the ground as Loske screamed in surprise as one of her mother’s blades seared through the flesh on her shoulder, cauterizing instantly. Burnt remnants of skin and ozone flooded her nostrils and she stammered backward, clutching at the wound on her upper arm.
“What the kark! What are you doing!”
Kiskla’s intention was not to maim, but to test. If this girl was related to her, or representative of her even slightly, she’d have to prove her mettle. At this point, she had not. Apparently trial-by-fire was not the way she was training with her current master.
“Your teacher must be soft.” She observed, the thrum of her blades constant to her ears. Her breath was still steady, despite the perceived exertion.
“If you’re learning to use The Force, someone will seek to kill you one day. You need to know how to defend yourself better than that.” Her blades disengaged, and she clipped them behind her back, drawing the opal fabric over once more to conceal the sister hilts. She lifted her hand with a similar gesture she’d used to dismiss her body guard earlier, and the abandoned hilt came twirling through the air to her touch. She turned it over a few times in her hands before holding it out for Loske to take it.