Grey Jedi Padawan/Cinnamon Roll
Kuxirra sat in a grassy area of sorts, meditating. Lately, she'd been having...not visions, not dreams, but something else entirely. On occasion, the Togruta see what appeared to be a clone of her. A clone with a cruel personality, opposite in every way.
Sighing, the Padawan reached out with the Force, calling upon the skill she'd learned from K'narik, the ancient Mist-Weaver. She spun the Force around her into tangible threads in her hands, proceeding to weave the strands of Mist-silk, as she called it, into a small tapestry of sorts. A few minutes later, she held the finished product in her hands: a girl identical to her, but with different clothes, a cruel smirk across her face, and yellow eyes.
Sighing, the Padawan reached out with the Force, calling upon the skill she'd learned from K'narik, the ancient Mist-Weaver. She spun the Force around her into tangible threads in her hands, proceeding to weave the strands of Mist-silk, as she called it, into a small tapestry of sorts. A few minutes later, she held the finished product in her hands: a girl identical to her, but with different clothes, a cruel smirk across her face, and yellow eyes.