Private Bound by the Force: A Tale of Two Jedi

[Samuel Creed]

Teynara Jeralyr

​

Samuel Creed strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, each step deliberate and resolute as he departed the conference chamber nestled high within the temple's labyrinthine upper floors. His robes, dark shades of deep blue and slate grey, swirled with the motion of his stride, the black cloak trailing behind his boots like a shadow. Creed made his way down into the heart of the temple, heading toward the training wing, where the hum of lightsabers and the whispers of young Jedi-in-training echoed through the halls.

As he passed fellow Jedi, his expression remained stoic, eyes fixed ahead, offering no polite nods or words of greeting. His mind wandered, consumed by the proposition that weighed heavily on him—a proposal that felt less like an offer and more like an imposition. Creed was no stranger to the challenges of the Order. He was a seasoned Jedi Knight, hardened by years of service and survival, shaped by a discipline that kept him emotionally distant from the bonds others seemed to form with ease.

The task given to him, however, unsettled his carefully cultivated solitude. He had been asked to train another—a younger Jedi, fresh from the temple walls. His superiors had spoken of mutual growth and shared wisdom, but Creed was less than enthused. He'd been given a name, but it held no meaning for him, no spark of anticipation. To him, it was merely another obligation.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as he reached the entrance to the training wing, pausing to gather his thoughts. The weight of duty pressed heavily on him as he stared at the doors before him. Could he truly guide a student when the galaxy beyond the temple had taught him so much more than these walls ever could?

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a brightly lit dojo where a class of students stood sparring under the watchful eye of another Jedi Knight. Creed lingered at the edge of the room, his eyes scanning the group with quiet scrutiny, searching for the one who had been chosen for him—not by his will, but by the will of the Order. His posture stiffened as he observed, already questioning whether he had the patience for what was to come.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |​

Sweat adorning her brow, Teynara was already starting to feel tired, noting the burn in her muscles, the way her shoulders tightened, and the ache of her fingers curled around the hilt of the wooden training sword that she was holding out in front of her, adopting the defensive posture that their teachers had instructed them to employ. Standing in front of her was another student in a similar pose – though he was taller and carried himself with more confidence than she did. Worse, he's definitely sporting fewer bruises than I am, she thought with a little hint of frustration. Sparring together wasn't exactly her favourite activity, particularly given how it left her feeling by the time they were done.

They were just practising basic techniques, true, but the purpose of the exercise before them was to try and sense what their opponent was going to do before they did it – as she understood it, this was all part of "feeling the Force", as the Masters called it. You're supposed to let go and just let your blade move itself, less a conscious effort and more a reflexive action. She wasn't quite sure that it all made sense – and it was rather difficult not to overthink the process. After all, you can hardly relax and let go when someone's about to smack you around the head with a heavy piece of wood!

The whole session had devolved into something of a blur: the sudden movement of boots across the training mat, the whisper of robes forced into motion, the slash of wooden blades through the air, and the loud clacks of impact as one struck another in a furious block. The soft gasps and cries of pain as one impacted against unprotected flesh, and the apologetic murmurs of those wondering if they'd hurt one of their peers, followed swiftly by sharp remonstrations from the Masters observing the session, exhorting everyone to keep their guards up, and to feel the Force, the better to defend themselves. Easier said than done, of course, like everything else around here.

Preparing for the next attack that she knew would be only moments away, Teynara inhaled a deep breath and tightened her grip on her sword, bringing it in slightly closer to her right side, hoping to be able to parry an attack that would be directed towards the torso, both sides supposedly guarded. Doesn't help much if he goes for the legs or arms, though. She knew she wasn't a natural when it came to this sort of thing – but she'd been feeling like that for most of her training so far.

She saw her opponent tensing up and her chest tightened as she gathered a breath and held it, ready to move in counter to whatever he might throw. If he went for her chest with a piercing lunge, she was pretty sure she could parry that off to one side. If he went for her legs, she'd probably have to sweep down with the blade, rotating the wrists to drop it down and slide across. If he decided to bonk her over the head...wasn't that a direct block in the horizontal line? She wasn't sure – it was hard to keep it all straight. So maybe you're just supposed to let yourself react blindly? That didn't sound right, but it was probably true.
Behind her, she heard the doors hissing open, a loud movement designed to alert a room's occupants to the arrival of another, but it pulled her attention away for a nanosecond as she wondered who would decide to interrupt their sparring...and as her head half-turned to have a look, her partner decided to jump forward and strike out, his blade going for her head with some sort of unnecessarily-aggressive downwards strike, his blade positioned above his head as he sought to bring it down. She stumbled a moment, her own blade raising up so that the tip was above her head and angled downwards...and then her opponent suddenly changed direction, dropping the blade in a broad sweeping movement to click her right across the ankles, smacking with sufficient force that she felt her legs giving way beneath her, leaving her in an inelegant pile on the floor, her wooden sword dropping from her hand as an "ooph" of pain and discomfort forced it's way from her lungs.

"Son of a Hutt!" she snarled, more upset at herself than at her partner. He was just doing what they'd been instructed...and she'd been caught out again. "Very well - Solah!", she said after a short pause, indicating that she was done with their bout and was effectively offering her surrender. "I didn't see that one coming. Nicely done."

Smoothing out her skirts and doing her best to brush herself down, the blonde took a moment and then stood up, feeling a sharp pain in her ankle as she did so, though it wasn't enough to put her back down on the floor. I'll have a heck of a bruise there by tomorrow, I bet, she thought with a touch of resignation. She picked up the wooden sword from where it had fallen beside her, then straightened, offering a bow to her opponent, who was kind enough to return it before heading over to the side of the room, perhaps to seek out another student to spar with.

Turning around and following suit, she looked back towards the door of the room, seeing a taller male Jedi having strode in, his expression seemingly stormy to her – frankly, he just looked annoyed, as though he didn't really want to be here. Go and get hit around the ankles a few times, and you'll justify that expression, she thought, mildly annoyed at the fact that the Jedi had distracted her and cost her a precious half-second necessary to defend herself. Though, let's face it, it wasn't his fault that I didn't anticipate the feint. His fault for taking her attention at a moment when her focus needed to be elsewhere, however.

She didn't say anything to him, though – it wouldn't be wise to antagonise a Jedi that was clearly older than her and therefore probably much further along in his training, if not having completed it entirely. She settled for giving him a slightly sharp glance and then going to grab a small towel from a rack at the side, using it to wipe sweat from her face and neck. But you're definitely taking the blame for that, she thought wryly.

 

[Samuel Creed]

"Samuel Creed!" The voice of Master Vahn Echan, Samuel's former classmate and fellow Jedi Knight, echoed across the training hall, laced with evident surprise. "I don't believe you've graced one of my lessons since your last... memorable display with Master Jido Myyse ! What brings you here now?" His words carried a playful edge, though his curiosity was clear as he approached.

The Zabrak Jedi Knight, once a fellow Padawan alongside Samuel in the New Jedi Order, still held a strong connection with him, forged in their shared history. Jido Myyse, known for training Samuel's late Master, Lumea Corsell, had left an impression on both of them. The familiarity in Vahn's tone spoke volumes of their longstanding bond.

"Composure, Master Echan," Samuel responded, his tone sharp, yet measured, his gaze flickering away from the duel unfolding before them. His attention briefly lingered on Teynara Jeralyr , locked in a sparring match with her opponent. Without looking directly at Vahn, Samuel subtly reminded him of the decorum expected in front of the students. Jedi teachers could not afford to let their guard down, lest the Padawans start adopting too casual an attitude themselves.

Vahn studied Samuel for a moment, his sharp Zabrak eyes narrowing before a knowing smirk spread across his face. Samuel's rigid behavior was all too familiar to him. With a quiet shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the sparring match.

Samuel, too, refocused on the pair of dueling Padawans. Teynara Jeralyr was faltering, oblivious to the feint her opponent employed. A quick strike from his wooden blade connected with her ankles, sending her crashing onto the sparring mat. The match was over, and the boy had won. Yet, despite her loss, the humility in Teynara's demeanor stood out to Samuel—graceful even in defeat, offering genuine praise to her adversary.

"I'm here to observe that one," Samuel announced, his voice calm but purposeful as he gestured toward Teynara with a sweep of his left hand. "Have her face off with another of your students." His request hung in the air, surprising Vahn. Teynara was already sore and tired from her last bout, but Samuel was testing something deeper. He wanted to see her resilience, how she would push herself, and whether she could find her footing after adversity.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |​

A quick drink of water, and Teynara felt about done. She hurt in a dozen places that hadn't hurt before, and her legs and armed still burned from the exertion, sore from having to go from being static to moving all too quickly, having to absorb sharp impacts both against flesh and the blade she'd been given to defend herself. The sparring session wasn't technically finished, but she certainly felt as if she was. All she wanted was a hot meal, a hotter shower, and a good night's sleep, hopefully so that she'd wake feeling ready for classes in the morning. No such luck today, though, I expect.

The Jedi that had entered a moment ago had moved up to speak with one of the Masters overseeing the session. Hopefully he's here to declare that there's business to attend to elsewhere, and they'll stop things here. That would be the best outcome – and, frankly, she deserved that after the Jedi had so rudely interrupted her thought process and cost her a match...that she was probably going to have lost anyway. It didn't stop her being a little irritated with him, though!

Instead, she saw him briefly gesturing in her direction, though she didn't catch whatever it was he had said to the Master Jedi beside him. The blonde felt mildly offended – that gesture hadn't been particularly polite, and instead felt a touch dismissive – but she suspected that it didn't bode well for her that he was picking her out in some fashion. Maybe he's just finding amusement in the fact that I got knocked on my butt, knowing that some of the students certainly did tend to act in that way, and she wouldn't have been surprised if some of the older Jedi still shared those tendencies. They say it all builds character to be taken down a notch or two, though she was never sure whether or not that was a good thing.

When the Master stood next to him directed her back to the training mat, a tiny part of her wanted to rebel, just to put away her wooden training sword and walk out...but that would have been childish, petulant and entirely inappropriate for the Jedi she was training to be. They really like to make things difficult for us, of that she was certain. Hefting her weapon, she walked back onto the training floor, though her pained ankle slowed her down a little, breaking her stride slightly in a way that she suspected her next opponent would notice. Best to keep my legs a little more covered, then!

Another followed her onto the mat, facing off about six paces away from her – the sort of range where, if they both extended their weapons out to full length, the tips of each might just make contact – and they both bowed once reaching their starting markers. Her stomach wallowed as she got a better look at him: an Iktotchi, taller than her but also much more muscular, broader in the shoulders and with the sort of physique that felt almost designed to intimidate. This was the one she'd avoided facing so far, precisely because she had no intentions of being ground into a paste. This is going to hurt, she thought sourly, saving some of the ire that was now building up for the Jedi who had entered a few moments ago. You've got something to do with this. The young woman had to wonder what she'd done to upset him.

Weapons extended, the formalities over with, the two students started moving – or, rather, her opponent started moving, and she was forced to match him. Circling each other still felt weird and ritualistic to her, but it was a means of trying to assess an opponent and look for an opening before you struck – and, if you had any sense, you'd move in such a way as to foil that ambition, which is what she was doing now. It wasn't going to get either of them anywhere, she knew, but in some respects, it was as much part of their tradition as the bows had been before.

Without warning, the Iktotchi charged forward, his blade moving in a searing slash moving from one hip to the opposite shoulder, the sort of move that would have bisected her had a real lightsaber been used...but Teynara had stepped off to one side, letting her opponent's momentum carry him past her, the strike hissing through nothing but air. For a moment she felt relief and even a little elation...until something struck her hard on the back of one shoulder, and she gasped in surprise. Of course. Strike on the backswing. He hadn't turned to make another attack: he'd simply changed the direction of his hit as he'd moved past her, clipping her as the two of them split apart. Clever.

She nodded at him as the two turned to face each other again, acknowledging the hit, but she wasn't quite done yet. These matches were always first to three, or if one of the strikes was so obviously "fatal" or disabling that it wouldn't be reasonable to keep going. One down, two to go!, she thought with a slight touch of resignation. The blonde brought her weapon back around to keep it between her and her opponent, hilt centered around her stomach, the blade angled upward and away.

And when I'm done with this, I'm going to have to find out what I did to upset that old man, she thought, thinking of the bearded Jedi that had got her into this predicament.

 

[Samuel Creed]

Samuel stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the sparring match unfolding before him. The Iktotchi student squared off against Teynara Jeralyr , whose expression betrayed a lack of enthusiasm. She had barely recovered from her previous bout, and the strain on her ankle was evident in her slowed movements. Yet, despite the pain and weariness, she obeyed the instruction to prepare for the next round without a word of complaint. Samuel’s head lifted slightly, a subtle, unspoken sign of approval at her resilience.

Earlier, Samuel had met with members of the senior body, where he learned that Teynara was highly regarded as a gifted and bright student. Her academic exploits and performance in training sessions were consistently praised, but her instructors noted a reluctance when it came to combat. Though skilled, she lacked the enthusiasm and confidence others displayed in lightsaber training, often prioritizing theoretical lessons and Force studies over the physical aspects of her education.

A quiet voice broke the silence. "So..." Master Vahn Echan ventured carefully, glancing toward Samuel. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" His head tilted toward the sparring pair, his curiosity evident.

"No," Samuel answered curtly, not offering any further explanation.

Vahn let out a quiet chuckle. "I take it you’re not here by choice then?" he remarked dryly. "They’re finally pressuring you to take on a student, aren't they? How long has it been? Eight, nine years they've been after you to share your wisdom with an apprentice?"

Samuel’s gaze remained steady. "I’m not here for your amusement, Vahn," he said, his tone laced with warning. "Don’t make me repeat myself, or I might need to reconsider our friendship."

"Stars above..." Vahn muttered under his breath, turning his attention back to the sparring. The other students watched eagerly, clearly intrigued by the rare sight of Teynara being singled out by a visiting Knight. "One of these days, you’re going to have to let it go," he said, his tone lighter but edged with meaning.

"Vahn," Samuel interrupted, his voice now cold as ice. "I appreciate our banter, but you know better than to push me on this. Do not continue."

"Alright, alright," Vahn conceded, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of retreat. "You’re right—it’s not my place."

Silence settled between them once again as Samuel’s focus returned to Teynara. Vahn’s words had briefly stirred an old wound, but Samuel wasn’t one to dwell on such things, especially not when there was work to be done. The assignment before him demanded his full attention—and more than that, it hinted at a responsibility that could stretch far beyond the present moment, perhaps for the rest of his life.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |​

The Itkotchi was good, no doubt about that. Teynara did feel bad that she didn't yet know his name, but all considerations of fellowship rather abandoned her at the whistle of the wooden blade moving towards her. They'd exchanged several attacks – or, rather, he had attacked whilst she held a defensive posture, desperately trying to knock his blade away from her so that she didn't end up with yet more bruises. There wasn't going to be much chance of her being able to attack him, so her best bet was to play counter-offensive: wait until he attacked, and catch him when his focus was on trying to strike her.

So far, it wasn't a strategy that had been working particularly well. She'd caught a sharp rap on her left elbow on one move, having parried his blade but entirely missed the second strike that had followed because she hadn't knocked his weapon away with enough force. Beyond that...she'd had little chance to catch him. Stopping herself being hit, that was one thing...striking back, entirely another.

They were facing off against each other again, stood in a vertical line, just out of range of each other's blades. Teynara's expression was one of concentration but also consternation – that feeling that this wasn't going particularly well, and it wasn't likely to get any better. The Iktotchi was bigger, stronger, and she suspected simply had better awareness of the Jedi's teachings than she did. There had been several times where it had seemed that he'd known what she would do before she did it, and had changed his strategy accordingly – hence the painful strike on her elbow. She wasn't sure how he was doing that, but it was immensely frustrating.

The two of them pressed in again, the clack of blades showing that they'd entered range. Tey was keeping her wooden sword closer to her body now, particularly since her elbow hurt whenever she tried to fully extend her arms outwards in order to keep the Iktotchi further away from her, so her defensive rhythm felt a little too close for comfort. Nonetheless, she still managed to block a cut at neck height, holding against the other student's sword for a moment until she stepped backwards in retreat, allowing them to disengage. She'd hoped that the other might lose his balance, but she had no such luck: he'd sensed her movement and mirrored it, giving them both a moment of breathing space.

For that brief moment, perhaps a couple of heartbeats, Teynara reflected that her present strategy wasn't working: he'd scored two hits whilst she'd thus far failed to land a blow. That wouldn't do – although she knew that was largely just ego talking. Deciding to adopt a different, she lowered her blade, letting the tip point down towards the floor, though she still maintained a two-handed grip. She was inviting him to strike, and fully expected him to take her up on that fact.

Though she'd expected a moment of hesitation to reflect on it, the Iktotchi was damned fast considering his size, and he jumped right into the space in front of her with no uncertainty in the action, sweeping his blade horizontally to aim for her shoulder. The blonde ducked so that the blade would pass over her, and simultaneously struck out towards the Iktotchi's knee, his leg now extended outwards to help him keep his balance. She felt the solid 'thunk' of contact as her wooden blade struck against his leg, and for just a moment, the young woman felt a touch of elation, having accomplished what she was aiming for.

Then she felt the wind being knocked out of her sails – and her lungs – as the other student's blade impacted sharply between her shoulderblades. She didn't have time to reflect much on that as she staggered forward, the two of them once again reversed in position, facing away from each other. Hit me on the backswing again, didn't he? For all that she'd wanted to use a counter-offensive approach, it turned out that he was slightly better at it. At least I don't finish this one without scoring, she reflected, and felt oddly positive about that, even though she'd ultimately lost, again.

"Solah," she said again, turning and offering a faint smile to her opponent, bowing her head respectfully once the two of them had both regained their proper posture. "That was very well done," she offered, knowing that she'd have to remember the techniques that he'd been using against her. Maybe next time, it won't be so easy. She couldn't be sure of that, but it would be worth reflecting on – and probably spending a little more time on her footwork and handling.

Stepping off the mat, the blonde once again eyed the Jedi that had entered earlier – the one that had probably gotten her into a fight she really hadn't wanted to have. He still hadn't left – indeed, she got the distinct impression that he had been watching her, though why, she couldn't say. There were, after all, plenty of other students present, and several other battles going on. Maybe he's got some sort of problem with me, and this was his way of making my life difficult for it. As she replaced her wooden sword back against the rack of such weapons left for the students to use, she had to wonder exactly what it was she was supposed to have done. It'd be nice if you'd just told me, though!

 

[Samuel Creed]

With Vahn finally silenced, Samuel Creed's focus shifted to the sparring match between Padawan Jeralyr and her Ikotchi opponent. Leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, and one foot crossed over the other at the ankles, he observed intently. His sharp eyes followed every detail—the way Jeralyr handled her lightsaber, the precision in her stance, and the quick, instinctive reactions she made to each strike from her adversary.

Teynara moved with a graceful fluidity, her steps light and controlled, yet her opponent carried a distinct air of confidence. He dominated the sparring session, advancing with relentless pressure while she remained largely defensive, her gaze carefully scanning for weaknesses in the Ikotchi's technique. Her patience was evident, waiting for a gap in his form to appear, ready to exploit it when the time was right.

Though Creed's face remained impassive, he found himself quietly impressed in certain moments. Despite being outmatched, Teynara displayed an innate ability to read her opponent's body language, deftly evading his strikes when she stayed focused. But each small triumph seemed to be followed by a lapse in concentration. The instant she let her guard down, her sparring partner took advantage, striking without hesitation.

This led Samuel to wonder how well she had been trained in sensing her surroundings. Her sharp eyes could track her partner's intentions when facing him directly, but whenever her attention wavered or she turned away, her awareness seemed to falter. She struggled to anticipate follow-up attacks when she wasn't fully engaged, leaving critical gaps in her defense.

Yet, her strategy was sound—wait for an opening, then counter when the Ikotchi left himself exposed. Ironically, her opponent was employing the same tactic, baiting her into distraction with a deliberate strike to shift her focus. Samuel could tell by watching the pair that the Ikotchi was further along in his training. His swordsmanship and precognitive awareness were exceptional, presenting the perfect challenge for Teynara. In turn, it allowed Samuel to gauge just how far she had progressed.

As the match came to an end, Samuel turned his gaze to Vahn Echan, raising a hand in a silent signal of conclusion. He was satisfied with what he had observed, knowing any further progress would now rely on direct interaction with the Padawan. With a final, affirming nod, the Jedi Knight pushed himself off the wall as Teynara returned the Bokken to the weapons rack.

Moving with quiet purpose, Samuel walked around the edge of the sparring mat, his steps steady and unhurried. His hands slipped behind his back as he approached her, his presence calm yet attentive, each movement deliberate as he prepared to engage her personally.

"Greetings, Padawan," Samuel Creed addressed Teynara Jeralyr with formal clarity. "I realize your class is scheduled for another half hour, but you're excused from the remainder." His tone was measured, though carrying an unmistakable authority. "Instead, I would appreciate your time. Accompany me to one of the meditation rooms," he continued, phrasing it as a request, though the weight in his voice made it clear that it wasn't optional.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |​

As the Jedi spoke to her, Teynara turned, the towel that was in her hand gently dropped back down onto the bench it had been resting on. Her pale-blue eyes appraised him for a moment in stillness, trying to get a sense of him, though that was difficult enough. Jedi were always hard to read, their expressions often impassive and serene, whatever they might be feeling within, although she got the impression that this particular one was stern and no-nonsense. Probably not much of a sense of humour, at a guess. That was never a good sign.

Still, the way he had addressed her, and the nature of his bearing...all this suggested that he was a fully-trained Jedi, therefore wholly outranking her, and at liberty to give her instructions without question. And that means I have to do what I'm told, regardless. That might have rankled her at one time, that assumption that her autonomy could be so easily pushed to one side, but it was all part-and-parcel of Jedi training. They have to know that we'll trust to instructions whether we want to or not, and so she would.

Picking up the sleeveless robe that she often worse over her tunic, the young woman slipped it on and then proceeded to follow the Jedi out of the training room, though taking a moment to make sure she bowed in farewell to Master Eschan and the other Jedi that had been providing instruction to the Padawans. Wouldn't do to have them thinking I was being rude by just walking out, even if I'm in the company of another Jedi. She didn't think any of them would hold a grudge if she had, but some of the Jedi were real sticklers for protocol, and it was best not to rub them the wrong way. Although this one seems like he's one of that kind, in truth.

He walked a little quicker than she did, but that was likely a consequence of his height and the fact that his steps weren't encumbered by a skirt, meaning he could enjoy a broader stride, and his pace as well as the set of his shoulders made it rather clear that he wasn't entirely happy with the circumstances that had brought them together – whatever those were – but he was seeing it through anyway. Still, there's an awful lot of tension there, even if he's doing his best to hide it. Once again, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that she had done wrong and that had him being so tense.

"In truth, I think I was about done with sparring anyway," she said conversationally as they walked, though she had to skip her pace up a little in order to keep up with him. "They say aggression isn't supposed to be a Jedi trait, but it certainly feels like it might be when you're in classes like that," the blonde added, reflecting that her new associate seemingly didn't much care that she'd ended up clipped across the ankle and with a fair few bruises off the back of it. At least, he's telling me that I can't let that slow me down. "Clearly isn't my forte, at any rate."

That was fine, of course: Master Valery had been clear enough that Jedi all had different paths to walk, and that whilst her own was that of a warrior, some Jedi took the role of a healer, or of a diplomat, or a teacher. She'd even seen some that specialised in botany and horticulture, the ones who were responsible for growing the many plants and herbs that covered the Temple walkways and gardens. The idea being that they are more closely connected to life than most Jedi, or so she'd heard. She wasn't quite clear what the significance of that was, but it seemed acceptable to the others nonetheless.

"Can I ask what this is about?", she queried as they continued to walk down the corridor, passing a fair few other Jedi in the process. They were only halfway through lesson time, so the majority of those walking by were older Jedi – the students being busy with their classes or private studies, as was appropriate for this time of the day – so none of the others were inclined to stare or question where they were going. "If I'm in some sort of trouble, I can tell you that I haven't done anything wrong deliberately. If I've done something by mistake, well, I hope it wasn't too serious."

 

[Samuel Creed]

"In truth, I think I was about done with sparring anyway, They say aggression isn't supposed to be a Jedi trait, but it certainly feels like it might be when you're in classes like that, Clearly isn't my forte, at any rate.

Can I ask what this is about? If I'm in some sort of trouble, I can tell you that I haven't done anything wrong deliberately. If I've done something by mistake, well, I hope it wasn't too serious."

As the pair walked through the quiet corridors of the training wing, Jedi Knight Samuel Creed offered a subtle nod to each Jedi Knight and Master they passed. These esteemed figures of the New Jedi Order moved gracefully in their traditional robes, their presence radiating discipline and decorum, the result of years of rigorous training and mastery of the Force. Samuel's nod, however, was not one of personal familiarity but rather a mark of respect, a silent acknowledgment of their shared responsibility within the Order and recognition of their high standing within the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple.

Padawan Jeralyr, walking beside him, seemed uneasy, her thoughts visibly preoccupied with her unfamiliar circumstances. Samuel sensed her discomfort; after all, he was a stranger to her, and it was not often that a Jedi Knight, especially one as rarely seen in the Temple as himself, walked these peaceful halls.

Most of Samuel's time was spent beyond the sheltered confines of the Temple, out in the vast and tumultuous Galaxy, where danger lurked in every corner. Life out there was a stark contrast to the serenity of the Temple, where students were shielded from the harsh realities of the outside world. Beyond the Temple's protective walls, violence and chaos were always near, and a single misstep could lead to disaster. Samuel couldn't help but find it remarkable how well the students were insulated from the Galaxy's true nature.

"Aggression, when separated from anger, can be a powerful tool in our practice," Samuel began, his voice steady as he turned to address Jeralyr. "Take Djem So, for instance. It's a form focused on channeling aggression to wear down and overwhelm your opponent quickly. The Order's teachings don't fully emphasize this, and for good reason—it's not something a young student can easily grasp without misinterpretation. Aggression is a method; anger is an emotion. In time, you'll learn to wield your lightsaber with precision and grace, understanding the distinction between the two."

Samuel Creed paused, allowing Teynara Jeralyr a moment of quiet reflection, giving her the space to truly consider his words. Without rushing, he guided her toward the entrance of one of the meditation chambers. Reaching for the locking mechanism, he triggered the door with a soft mechanical hiss, revealing the serene interior. The room was circular in shape, with cushioned seats neatly arranged around its perimeter. Intricate patterns etched into the carpet mirrored the room's spherical design, and the chamber itself was undisturbed, its tranquil atmosphere undisturbed by others.

With a quiet, inviting gesture, Samuel motioned for Teynara to enter and find a seat. As she stepped inside, he turned back toward the door, sealing it with a firm but quiet lock, ensuring the privacy he deemed necessary for their current situation. Here, within the chamber's peaceful embrace, they could speak without interruption, in the quiet contemplation the moment demanded.

Samuel moved deliberately toward one of the seats opposite Teynara, selecting his position with intent. From there, he could observe her closely, studying her every response to the conversation that was about to unfold. A Jedi's conduct was crucial not only in battle but in every aspect of life; body language, subtle reactions, and behavior in moments of contrast often revealed more than words. Samuel expected no less from Teynara—her insights would be telling during this meeting.

"My name is Samuel Creed, and as you've likely gathered, I am a Jedi Knight," he began, his tone neutral and measured, void of any bias or pretense. "You are here because your actions in the dojo spoke highly of the praise your superiors have given you." His gaze lifted slightly as he extended his senses, feeling the quiet ebb and flow of the Force that surrounded them, tuning his focus to the Padawan sitting across from him.

"This is an evaluation," he continued, his voice steady. "An assessment of your progress and potential. In this room, I encourage you to speak plainly and honestly. We will not be interrupted." Samuel's eyes held hers, inviting transparency. "I want to learn more about your time here within the Order, and most importantly, why you seek to become a Jedi Knight."

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

An evaluation? This wasn't something she'd heard anything about from the other students - Voli Cholrass certainly hadn't mentioned anything of the sort, but her friend was rather lesson-avoidant at moments, so perhaps that was why – but still, it didn't strike her as a good thing. Maybe they have some sort of probationary period that nobody told me about? Perhaps this could be it for her Jedi career: if they decided she wasn't making the appropriate progress, she might be shipped off back to Lianna before the day was over. Still, he did say that some of my teachers spoke well of me, so maybe they'll let me stay.

The young woman crossed the room, taking a seat on the cushion that Samuel Creed had directed her towards, adopting the cross-legged posture that they'd all been taught to use for meditation: legs intersecting at the ankles, the knees sat on either side, back straight, and her hands in her lap as a means of reducing fidgeting. Focus good, distractions bad, she thought with some amusement.

She did take a moment to reflect back on the Jedi's words as they had walked over to the room: his thoughts on the nature of aggression. It told her something about him: he was a Jedi like Master Valery, the sort that wouldn't hesitate to resort to force if he had to, the kind that perhaps preferred action above the quieter contemplations that were taught here. Still, he clearly wasn't the weaponised type, given just enough training to be effective and then sent forth to fight the Jedi's enemies: his comments about the need to separate emotion from intention rather proved that. A blunt instrument wouldn't have that sort of insight. This was the more dangerous type: the ones who thought their way into and out of a fight.

"I don't think there's ever a straight answer to why someone wants to be a Jedi," she said softly, levelling her pale blue eyes in the Jedi's direction, again noticing the sternness of him: that arrow-straight posture, the quiet intensity in his eyes, his face sharpened by the trimmed beard rather than softened by it. Not someone you really want to face in a fight. "I grew up with stories and legends, and the Holonet talking all about how Jedi were saviours of the galaxy, always fighting evil," she added with a gentle laugh, amused at the naivete that thinking suggested. "Jedi were always the pinnacle of good, the ones that would save everyone from the trials and tribulations of their lives." Absurd to think so, really: if you rely on other people to get you out of the muck, what purpose would your life have had to start with?

It wasn't nearly that straightforward, she'd learned: the Jedi path was an ideological one, certainly an idealistic one, but it rarely materialised in the way that you'd expect. It wasn't all glory and honour: she'd seen the Jedi who had been shipped back from the field in rough shape, seen them occupying their beds in the Medibay whilst the Healers worked to return them from the darkness in which they'd fallen. She'd seen the battle training, the philosophical back-and-forth whilst the Jedi questioned their purpose, and of course, they'd all spoken of those Jedi who had walked away, realising that the path wasn't what they needed, or one that necessarily served the high ideals that they'd aspired to. Hell, she'd met several: disillusioned, clear of purpose, but one that had led away from the Jedi, and not towards them. So why do I want to be a Jedi, you ask? Do I even know how to answer your question now? She'd thought she did, but in truth, it wasn't that easy.

"I know that we can't save everyone, and that the cycle of war will keep going whatever we do," the young woman observed calmly. "It's too much to expect that we'll ever break that cycle ourselves – and we'd die trying, I suspect," she added, her expression thoughtful, but not concerned by what she was saying. "But Master Valery said that a Jedi should try to do the best that we can, and the least harm possible – we can help others even if we can't banish the darkness." The blonde woman smiled now, her eyes flickering away for a moment before returning to watch the Jedi carefully. "I feel I can do more here than I might elsewhere, and so I've tried to stay true to the path I started on."

 

[Samuel Creed]

Teynara Jeralyr began to respond to Samuel's question with the familiar tales that often captivated the younger students—stories of grandeur, portraying the Jedi as unwavering champions, performing miraculous deeds with selfless sacrifice.

Samuel knew of the excitement of younglings, eager to practice with a lightsaber, as if the weapon alone defined a Jedi's worth. Others dreamt of wielding the Force to leap to heights beyond the imagination of ordinary men. Yet, none of them truly grasped the darker reality behind the Jedi path. While honourable, it was a life of immense sacrifice. In combat, physical sacrifices were inevitable when there were no alternatives. Emotionally, they were taught to harden their hearts, distancing themselves from deep passions to avoid the ever-present temptation of the dark side. Psychologically, the burden was even greater—those fortunate enough to survive the battlefield often found themselves fighting once again, this time to reclaim their minds and spirits. Recovery from the aftermath of combat was long and painful, haunted by images that could never be erased, reminders of failed missions or the devastation of large-scale wars.

But the girl had not yet finished her answer, and what came next was far more grounded. She moved beyond the fanciful illusions of youthful minds and the folklore spun by those outside the New Jedi Order, who viewed the Jedi with a reverence often devoid of dignity or truth.

"I know that we can't save everyone, and that the cycle of war will keep going whatever we do, It's too much to expect that we'll ever break that cycle ourselves – and we'd die trying, I suspect, but Master Valery said that a Jedi should try to do the best that we can, and the least harm possible – we can help others even if we can't banish the darkness. I feel I can do more here than I might elsewhere, and so I've tried to stay true to the path I started on."

The mention of Valery Noble came as little surprise. The esteemed Grandmaster had, after all, dedicated a significant amount of her time to the education of the Student Body, even amid her demanding duties as the head of the New Jedi Order. The students were truly fortunate to have the Sword of the Jedi herself invest in their growth, rather than delegating the task to her fellow Knights and Masters, as would be both understandable and expected given the vast array of responsibilities she bore.

"Your words are true," Samuel acknowledged with a single approving nod. "It is acceptable to hear that you have moved beyond the naivety of youth. You now grasp the reality of our burden. Our work is never truly complete, our service always demanded. This knowledge weighs heavily on the minds of many, but it also highlights the gravity of our purpose and the significance of our unwavering dedication."

Although Samuel approved of Teynara's response and was ready to steer the conversation forward, he knew that in time, he would come to understand more about her motivations and ambitions. For now, her answer sufficed, and he was eager to learn more about her progress in training and the field experience she had gained thus far.

There would be ample time for them to become acquainted, and Teynara remained unaware of the forthcoming change in her path. While some students were fortunate enough to have a say in such decisions, Samuel Creed did not follow the same methods as other Jedi Knights. Though he had been encouraged to evaluate her potential and growth, the final decision would be his alone. The choice to take on an apprentice was not made lightly—it was a profound commitment, one that could last a lifetime.

"I would hear of your training, your progress thus far," Samuel inquired, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he studied her closely. He paid careful attention not only to her words but to the subtle cues in her body language—the flicker of her eyes, the tension in her posture—searching for insights beyond what she might say. "What do you perceive as your strengths, and more crucially, where do you believe you falter? Which lessons captivate your interest, and which ones do you dread to undertake? Speak to me of your time here, so I may understand what you have truly learned."

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |
​

Such formality in his voice. It's as if he's trying to keep a distance between himself and whoever he's speaking to, Teynara thought appraisingly, noting that his every word felt as if they'd been chosen in an archaic form, so precise and distant. They were the words of someone who believed that every word was important – which she agreed with – but to such a degree that anything left vague or ambiguous was a danger in itself. Almost as if he feels his every word is being measured and assessed, and that he dares not be found wanting in such respect. It was a curious presentation: he managed to present both strength and yet frailty at the same time.

Something he'd said caught her in a reflective mood for a moment: the idea that a Jedi's service was demanded. Perhaps he simply meant that it was always needed, but that didn't quite fit with the precision behind his words – who or what exactly demanded their service? Is this the Force that the Jedi speak of? Does it really insist on something from them? And, if so, why didn't see feel that? Surely there'd be some sort of insistent tugging directing her to what she was supposed to do. Instead, she often felt adrift in a sea of possible choices, rarely directed towards anything. Is it different for you? Is that why you speak as you do?

Creed also spoke of the Jedi path as a burden, and that was equally curious. Yes, she'd heard other Jedi speak in this way, but most of them were those disaffected individuals who had walked away from the Order so that they might seek their own path – placing a greater burden on their shoulders in doing so than the Jedi might have done. As far as Teynara had been concerned, it couldn't possibly be a burden – after all, if you found something you loved and felt passionate about, to pursue it was a joy, no matter what it might cost you. Only a person who didn't feel content in their way would feel it a burden to them, she suspected.

"My biggest failing must be obvious even to you," she articulated with a faint smile, nodding towards him with an expression that lacked any embarrassment over her direct tone. "I over-think everything. I like to analyse what people say, what they do, and how I feel about it. I've never been comfortable leaving things just as they are – life is for exploring. There's always more to learn," she finished with the slightest shrug indicating how she felt about anyone that might disagree with that assertion. After all, I probably wouldn't be here if I didn't feel that way. I'd have been content doing something less impactful.

In some respects, perhaps that might have been a good thing – her parents had often expressed that ambition or a desire to achieve something more was always a path to misery. If you were never content with what was, and always saw ahead to what could be, you'd spend your lifetime chasing a dream that might never materialise. And they're right, of course, but sacrificing happiness in exchange for purpose feels like a good deal to me. She'd never quite been able to express that to them, but nor had they protested when she had told them that she planned to seek out the Jedi. Maybe they knew me better than to argue, or perhaps they felt that I had to find that out for myself, rather than simply accepting what they told me. She'd have to ask them someday.

"That ought to give you some idea as to my strengths, though," she added, taking the opportunity to change her posture, moving to fold her legs beneath her so that she could sit at a slight angle, knees together and tucked under her, one hand resting against her seat in order to ensure that she stayed balanced. "I think things through before I act, and I've rarely been accused of being reckless or hasty." Her eyebrows raised slightly as if to query whether the conversations he'd had with her teachers would contradict that analysis. "I suppose I'm the sort of person that believes we should learn as much as possible before we make a move, so that we have more evidence that it won't be the wrong one."

Of course, she knew that some of the Jedi took issue with that: some of her teachers said that she needed to be less in her head and more in the moment (whatever that meant!), and simply feel her way to a solution to a given problem – as absurd as that sounded to her. Feelings were useful in that they told you something about how your circumstances hit you emotionally...but that didn't mean that you acted on them. You don't have enough information to be sure. A child thinks that there are monsters under the bed – but, unless you go and check for yourself, you're only being held hostage to ignorance. That definitely wasn't her!

 

[Samuel Creed]

"My biggest failing must be obvious even to you, I over-think everything. I like to analyse what people say, what they do, and how I feel about it. I've never been comfortable leaving things just as they are – life is for exploring. There's always more to learn, That ought to give you some idea as to my strengths, though, I think things through before I act, and I've rarely been accused of being reckless or hasty. I suppose I'm the sort of person that believes we should learn as much as possible before we make a move, so that we have more evidence that it won't be the wrong one."

The Jedi Knight before her nodded thoughtfully, observing Teynara Jeralyr with a quiet understanding. She was perhaps overly critical of herself, prone to overthinking as she had admitted, yet her words reflected a sharp and insightful mind—a scholar's perspective on the Jedi path and the challenges it presented. Although she hadn't directly answered his question about her preferred lessons, classes, or training regimens, her introspective response was still appreciated. It revealed a great deal about her approach to life as a Jedi, signalling her reflective nature. Samuel only hoped that this introspection would not lead her to become too withdrawn. Interaction with her peers was essential, not just for her own growth, but for learning the importance of working cohesively with others.

"A sharp mind is never something to discourage," Samuel began, his tone encouraging yet measured. "Over-thinking can indeed be a disadvantage, but it can be tempered by deepening your connection to the Force and learning to trust your instincts as your training progresses. There will be times when your intellect and insight will be invaluable, but equally, there will be moments when you must defer to your training—when your actions must be swift, instinctual, and without hesitation. In time, these routines will become second nature."

Though she might not fully grasp the importance of habitual practice at this moment, Samuel knew that under his tutelage, Teynara would undergo rigorous daily training. The drills and exercises he had planned would demand repetition, precision, and finesse—each one designed to embed lightsaber techniques and defensive skills deep into her muscle memory. He was preparing her for a future where, in moments of crucial decision, she wouldn't need to think. She would simply act, her instincts and training guiding her hand without pause.

"With regards to the Force, how far have you progressed in your training? What skills have you learned, and in what areas do you struggle?" Samuel asked, his voice steady yet inquisitive. He was eager to understand her connection to the Force, curious about her ability to tap into and commune with it. His mind probed deeper than just her surface abilities—he wanted to know how she engaged with the Force's different philosophies. Did she lean toward the Living Force, embracing the moment-to-moment connection to life? Or did she hold a preference for the Cosmic Force, contemplating the grander currents that wove through time and space?

Many students first learned to meditate, to quiet their minds and open themselves to the ethereal energies that flowed unseen around them, binding them to the galaxy and each other. Samuel was keen to discover how much success Teynara had found in this foundational practice. Her ability to immerse herself in the Force, to feel its currents and let them guide her, would tell him much about her potential as a Jedi.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Samuel Creed |​

An inquisitive one, aren't you? Teynara enjoyed that much, although this did feel a little like an interrogation rather than just a friendly chat – but that was to be expected, considering that her status as a student seemed to be under review. Though if he queries my dress size, he can whistle! She wasn't used to be questioned in quite such a blunt manner, but in truth, it fit the other Jedi's personality perfectly: she'd considered him straight-laced and the sort of individual to attack a problem directly – and that much was being demonstrated here.

He certainly knew what he was talking about, though: many of her teachers had warned her against the idea of hesitating when the moment called for action, suggesting that spending too much time in thinking might lead you to pause and reflect when you actually needed to step forward and do something. Of course, taking the time to consider your action means that at least it won't be the wrong action, but she knew that couldn't always be effective. If you knocked a glass off a table, spending time reflecting on the trajectory of the glass and what you might do to prevent it hitting the floor would mean that you'd probably just missed the opportunity for a reflexive catch...and so it'd end up shattered on the ground before you'd even thought to move.

Still...that was always the bit that she'd struggled with. It was easy to her to stay calm within a situation and analyse what was happening and thinking on how best to act...but the Jedi didn't seem to want that. She'd always gotten the impression that they were aiming for an intuitive response to situations: don't think, act. That didn't sit right with her, because thoughtless action always struck her as the wrong thing. Impulsiveness, recklessness...nothing good, to her mind.

"I don't know much of anything about the Force," she exclaimed, reflecting on the reality that most of her training thus far had been about the Jedi rather than about the Force. She knew that many of her peers had started their learning in that respect, but it still felt beyond her. "They talk about the Force as though it's something real and easy to perceive...but it always feels a little abstract to me." It was definitely something she was having trouble getting her head around.

"I suppose, if I think about it, it seems like an idea just beyond my reach...the Masters keep saying that one day we'll just feel it, if we stay open to the possibility...but that just seems haphazard," she confessed, finishing with a soft sigh that hinted at her frustration and perhaps even resignation at the feeling of just not knowing. Yes, they talked about the Force, and she'd even seen some of the students and teachers do things far beyond what should be possible, but all of it hinged upon a concept she couldn't quite grasp. "It feels like they're telling a blind person that, if they're patient and give it time, they'll somehow be able to see. I'm missing the "how" part of that equation."

The whole thing struck her as mildly absurd – if she hadn't seen what the Jedi were capable of, there were times when she'd had to admit that it might all be a lie, or some sort of con. There were plenty of people in the Galaxy who claimed magical abilities or having special knowledge that sprang from a mystical source...but evidence always seemed to be in short supply, and she had no doubt that some were abusing technology or using illusions of some variety as a way of conning people out of their time and credits. She hadn't wanted the Jedi to be like that...but there were moments where she had to wonder if she'd made the right call. You have to take it on faith that you're doing the right thing...and that's hard to be certain of.

"They tell us to meditate, to calm our minds and just let go of ourselves...and that's fine enough. But how does that translate into feeling this "Force", or doing some of the crazy things I know that a Jedi is capable of?" The young woman shoot her head, her uncertainty and perhaps confusion clearly expressed on her face. "Yes, I feel relaxed, yes, I can feel that undercurrent of peacefulness...but how do you get from there to that next step?"

 

[Samuel Creed]

The uncertainty Teynara Jeralyr felt about the Force and her limited experience with it was evident in both her words and her tone. As she spoke, the Jedi Knight listening raised his head slightly, considering her concerns. It was natural for someone at her stage of training to feel uneasy, especially when others seemed to be advancing faster. Though the Jedi Path wasn't a race, the Force was at the core of the New Jedi Order, shaping all they practiced and preached. Without that crucial connection, it was understandable that Teynara would question her place and her abilities.

What happened next would leave Teynara shaken. Without hesitation, Samuel Creed raised his left hand, signaling for her to stop speaking. His eyes closed as he delved deeply into his connection with the Force, summoning a vast reservoir of ethereal energy. He directed it toward Teynara, allowing the Force to permeate her consciousness. In an intentional breach of her mental barriers, Samuel created a bridge between Teynara and the Force. The sudden flood of awareness was overwhelming. In an instant, she was connected to every living presence within the Jedi Temple—thousands of souls, all intertwined through the spiritual current. Her senses expanded far beyond the typical range of a Padawan, as Samuel briefly shared his own heightened connection with her.

A deep warmth enveloped her, a palpable yet invisible energy swirling around her being. Samuel's hand subtly guided the flow of the Force, while he carefully monitored her emotions, ensuring that her mind didn't collapse under the weight of this newfound awareness.

"There is no doubting the Force," he said softly, his voice echoing through the dimly lit meditation chamber. "Your concerns are valid, but as you can feel, the Force surrounds us. In time, you will commune with it on your own. For now, I will guide you."

As Teynara remained suspended in the serene whirlwind of energy, her perception stretched beyond the physical walls of the room. Slowly, Samuel began to withdraw his connection, the ethereal sensation fading as he carefully brought her back to the present.

"What you just experienced was only a glimpse of what you will one day access on your own," he said. "Being able to sense the life force of others, identifying allies and enemies by their presence—this is your first step on a long journey."

His voice trailed off briefly, as if weighing a decision.

"From this moment, you will be my apprentice. I will ensure your training moves forward at a steady pace, and I will teach you the intricacies of the Force and the deeper path of the Jedi. Your formal lessons have been the foundation, but now, you will have every opportunity to grow."

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

Gestured into silence, Teynara obeyed swiftly, simply resting her hands in her lap and watching as the Jedi before her seemed to fall into a meditative trance of his own, his actions so similar to those that they had all been taught to do when needing to reflect and consider what they had learned: eyes closed, concentration gathered, posture relaxed and with the body clearly at ease. As though nothing, not even simple physical discomfort, may be allowed to intrude on what your mind is doing. Which, often enough, was little of anything at all: they were to count their breaths, or listen to the sound of running water, or reflect on a single philosophical phrase. And why do this in the middle of your interrogation? Jedi behaved oddly all the time, but this was a new one for her.

Waiting patiently, she felt something nibbling around the edges of her consciousness, like an intrusive thought only half-remembered, the way sometimes happened when you were sure you'd forgotten something important, but couldn't quite grasp what it was. It was an irritating little buzz in the back of her head, the sort of niggling distraction that the Jedi were steadily teaching her to be able to ignore, to shove aside into the back of her mind so she could focus on the here and now. Still...it was irritating, whatever it was. She'd have to figure it out later, though.

In the second between feeling the sensation and dismissing it, the next came. This one made her feel like she'd been hit by a tidal wave.

One moment, free air and oxygen...the next, swept away by the force of the wave, pulled under the water, the raw fluid filling her lungs, taking away her breath, her ability to so much as scream in distress, her vision subsumed by something she had no explanation for. She felt wrapped up in warmth, as though burning on a gentle fire, but every other sensation she was experiencing told her that she was in trouble. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she couldn't ask for help. Her head felt filled with cotton wool, unable to clarify what she was thinking – even if she'd wanted to – and it was impossible to make sense of it.

Yet, even though she felt wholly overwhelmed and perhaps not even wholly conscious of what was going on, some sensations filtered through. The source of, well, whatever it was...that was coming from nearby, as if she was standing next to one of those absurd wave machines you'd find at a local leisure park, but of such intensity that it was impossible to avoid the wave or preserve yourself from being swept along by the current. There were other waves, though – similarly intense, but rippling through her consciousness as if sent from further away.

Stranger than even that, though...the music of it all. It was as if each one of these wave-generating machines had a different tone to it – like wine glasses filled with different liquids, each ringing with a unique frequency when tapped with a spoon – and the combination was something altogether beautiful. Each tone by itself could be shrill, discordant, lacking harmony or beauty...but put them together, and it was something that you knew would stay in your thoughts the whole day, the kind of thing that you'd keep trying to hum to yourself even if you didn't know why. In control of her thoughts, she'd have enjoyed it and wanted to listen some more...but with the rest of it, the entire experience was simply overloading, an assault on her senses that she had no ability to explain.

It felt like an eternity passed when the sensation started to recede from her consciousness. The sound reached a crescendo for a moment then started to fade, her lungs started to clear, and her mind started to vaguely grasp at the understanding that she was able to string a clear sentence together in her thoughts, though it took a moment more before her vision cleared enough for her to see the room she'd been in a moment ago. She half-expected to be lying in her bed, waking in a start after a dream that had turned itself into a discordant nightmare...but yet, no, she was still in the small meditation room with the Jedi that had elected to interrogate her on her progress.

She sat up gingerly, realising with a start that she'd fallen from the cushion she'd been parked on, recumbent on the floor as if she'd been there all along, though a sharp pain along her forearm suggested that she'd landed there with some level of violence. She heard the male Jedi talking, but distantly, the words entirely bypassing her consciousness as if she had indeed been underwater and he was shouting to her from beyond the water. Indeed, she half-expected to cough up seawater any moment, so real had been the sensation, her lungs burning as she gulped for precious breath that she felt had been denied her.

Pale blue eyes narrowing, the young woman turned what she hoped to be an angry glare at the Jedi. He did this, whatever it was. I don't know what, and I don't know how, and I sure don't know why, but he definitely did this. For some reason, this particular Jedi was making a bad habit of finding ways to make her life uncomfortable – though this definitely topped the list of ways he could have done so – and she was once again left with the feeling that she'd done something to upset him, and this was all just payback.

"I don't know what the hell you think you were doing," she began angrily, her tone making it abundantly clear that he'd just crossed a line, "but that was not pleasant!". It would probably take her a while to work out exactly what he'd been thinking – and longer by far to work out what he'd actually done – but she was sure it wasn't the sort of thing that Jedi normally did to students. "You're one of those that thinks they can push someone off a building to see if they can fly, aren't you?" It had to have been a test – what else could it have been? She was pretty sure she'd failed, but at this moment, she wasn't sure she cared. Her eyes narrowed, again conveying the intensity of her emotion. "What happens when they don't perform that miracle, and splat onto the ground?"

Part of her recognised that she wasn't supposed to talk to Jedi like that – it was definitely insubordination – but she didn't really care right now. Maybe he intended it to be something else, some sort of gentle contact, calm and relaxed, but it was nothing of the sort. She felt buffeted by winds she hadn't noticed stirring, drowned by water she hadn't seen rising...and that was more what had upset her than necessarily that the Samuel Creed was responsible for it. Though I will know why, before we're done, she thought icily.

"What exactly was it that you thought you were going to do there?", she asked, still breathing heavily, but slowly bringing her breath – and her emotions – back under her more immediate control, remembering to do as the instructors had said when in the grip of turbulent feelings. Breathe in, pause, breathe out. And focus on the rhythm of your breathing, and let it ground you in the moment. "Was that one of those Force abilities that you all talk about so casually?"