First Reply Grit

[Zeke Dystra]

Grit And Growth
Zeke Dystra
Personal Training

It was late in the night in the middle of Coruscant, a place that never slept or faltered. While many were out partying or enjoying themselves in other ways commando Zeke Dystra was just to make one of many late night trips to the gym. As a commando he needed to be in the best shape he could be, just to do that required many things to be sacrificed. That didn't bother Zeke in the slightest, considering he was carrying on his family's legacy by being a loyal soldier of the Galatic Alliance. Not that it didn't take over his life entirely, he still had friends and downtown when the war allowed it.

Entering through the front door with a keycard, he made his way into the large, ghostly training gym with a bottle of water in hand. The gym itself was reserved for those in the order as well as the army, so it wasn't a big surprise when he was the only one in there at the time. Zeke took a quick sip of his drink and went over to one of the punching bags, slowly placing the water out the way before he started letting out some unwarranted aggression on the soft object.

It had been a rough few years as a captain, friends came and went as well as some of his squad. The original medic, Zarn had died from his injuries a few years back during the early stages of the second hyperspace war. Felix, who was admittedly still fitting into the new environment was a good kid, but he was quite hesitant about sending such a youngster with him into the field of battle. Yet, he seemed to prove him wrong time again with his calm nature and determination to do his duty. Tython only settled that for him, and the rest of his squadmates.

The battle itself was a bloodbath. It was a miracle that he and his men got out without a scratch considering they were on the front lines close to the ruined temple. Wave after wave of Maw soldiers came at their position on the rock. They only seemed to stop when the planet itself started to fall apart from the power of the sith lord himself. Not only that, but when they were going to the extraction point they found a heavily injured padawan next to the temple. If they didn't find the boy, he probably would have died on that very planet.

Zeke slowly shook his head of the thoughts and suddenly slammed fist after fist into the bag, one that wasn't wild but controlled. Losing control of your emotion was another step forward to disaster, letting that happen wouldn't bring yourself harm, but to others in the process.
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[Calix of Thyrsus]

[ calix's theme ]

He sat on the bed.

He'd been awake for more than an hour, though he knew not the time. His body hadn't adjusted back to Coruscant Standard Time, feeling instead as though he were back on Soccoro.

What day was it? Taungsday? Or was that yesterday? Or tomorrow? Had it been Zhellday when they had departed Vakeyya? So, would that make tomorrow Benduday? No, it was probably after midnight, so today was tomorrow.

...wait, did that even make sense?

The youth dipped his head, shifting atop the bed as a hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt so confused, and not just about the day of the week. The echoes of blaster shots still thundered, half-remembered, as in a dream from which he wanted to wake. Visions of the past, replayed in his mind.

A voyage. A noble quest. A Jedi Knight. A man who had been a complete stranger, and yet cared enough to have been his savior.

An ambush. Betrayed. Fighting, back to back. The smell of tibana gas biting at his nostrils, choking the air from his lungs even as the boy tried to fight bare-handed.

Then, what had happened next?

He remembered a flash of red. Then a force -- it lifted him up and spun him around, as fire spread through his chest. The memory prompted a hand to run over the scar that marked where a blaster bolt had grazed him.

Gold-colored irises flicked over to where a simple lightsaber rested by his bedside. When he had come to, on Praesitlyn, he'd been holding onto his master's broken lightsaber. No memory of how he'd wound up in that life pod or come to possess -- let alone break -- the Jedi weapon. Just a sea of doubt and regret that formed a pit in his stomach.

Sleep was not elusive, he did not want it. Getting up from the bed, the boy dressed and then reached down to grab a small gym bag, which he slung over his shoulder as he started to exit the dormitory. He paused in the doorframe, looking over at the lightsaber on the nightstand.

Part of him wanted to take it with him. Draw on the comfort that some part of his master was still with him.

Part of him was scared to so much as reach out toward it. Afraid he was not worthy. Not worthy of the man who had been his teacher. Not worthy to bear the weapon of a Jedi.

His hand started to come up, but stopped awkwardly in mid-air. His mouth opened for a moment, the boy swallowing as he shuddered with a feeling like deja vu. Then he slipped out into the Jedi Temple, alone.

The hour was either very late or very early. Such was likely purely a matter of perspective. Either way, the passages were empty save for those standing vigil as temple guardians. A few watched him carefully. The weight of their suspicion prompted the boy to put his head down and hurry faster toward the only escape that he had found.

A gymnasium.

An iron paradise, where the Echani customs could be observed with the proper respect afforded to training the body. All his fears, cast asunder on sets and repetitions that worked the stress from his muscles and allowed to simply let go of his mind. No thoughts. No doubts. Only the discipline of the workout.

He stood outside the door, fumbling around in the small satchel bag for his identicard, before finally swiping into the gym. The door popped open for him, as the Thyrsian youth shuffled in, bed-headed and ragged. The afro jutted out from his head, wild and untamed. While most would not likely associate the dark skin with an Echani, though the pale blue irises were distinctively the eyes of his people.

He moved toward the punching bags as he came through the door, returning his identicard to the gym bag and fishing out his handwraps. He'd already started wrapping his left hand when he'd looked up and realized that someone else was there.

Human. Older. Well, not old but older than Calix. Adult. Solid build. The boy's eyes sized the man up from his feet to his head. The subtlety of body language the preferred communication of the Echani. His said... soldier?

Pausing the motion of wrapping his hand, the afro-headed youth dropped his eyes as he gave a respectful nod of his head toward the man. Then returned to the task of wrapping his hand, before switching to the other.

Calix liked to warm up on the bag, before moving on to weights or resistance exercises. Making his way around where the man seemed to be paused in his own workout, the boy made his way over to one of the other bags.

He drew in a breath.

The punch connected solidly with the bag. A pleasing sensation of exertion running up the boy's arm. Rotating his shoulder, he shook out, before drawing his arms back up.

It felt good to have something to lash out toward, rather than holding it in.

Zeke Dystra​

 

[Zeke Dystra]

Grit And Growth
Zeke Dystra
Personal Training

Time seemed to fly, how long? he did not know. The only thing that showed his longevity on the bag was the sweat dripping from his face in reflection of the power he was putting behind his strikes. The thoughts of the past still riddled his mind but no matter what he kept up the attack on the soft opponent that wasn't fighting back. His mind seemed to be elsewhere as the door to the gym opened, revealing someone who he wasn't expecting to see at this time.

Zeke didn't notice the kid at first, but after looking back at him from his nod he quickly replied with one of his own. No kids his age were allowed in the army. The Jedi on the other hand? they seemed to have a knack for picking up down on their luck kids with nowhere else to go. He started hitting the bag again, trying to refocus on what he was going over in his mind. Although, the kid seemed to keep stealing his attention when he began to punch a bag himself. Looking at the padawan, he sat down on a bench and curiously watched the boy's power and technique while sipping on his drink. He had to admit, the Jedi knew how to train their recruits well, even the kids who probably didn't know a thing about fighting before joining the order.

On further inspection, his style looked sound, but that wasn't the only thing he was thinking about. Out of all times, why was he here? wasn't he meant to be back at the temple? that alone made him want to figure out his reasoning "Ain't you meant to be asleep kid?" he asked directly, gulping down more of his water "Something up? nightmares? rough day training?" he said nonchalantly to him, a hand wiping away some loose water that had found its way onto his chin.

"It's just you and me kid, no audience"

Calix of Thyrsus ​

 

[Calix of Thyrsus]

[ post theme ]

Thwump.

The boy's fist buried itself into the bag. A modicum of exertion shooting up through the youth's elbow as the bag swung away from the momentum of the blow. A second connected a moment later, followed by a third.

Jab. Cross. Hook.

A light sheen of sweat moistened the dark skin. He shifted his weight between the heel and the balls of his feet, feeling his body start to limber up from the familiar routine. But that's all it was. A routine. Rote. Predictable.

A punching bag was a poor sparring partner. The Thyrsian wanted something more real.

"Ain't you meant to be asleep kid?"

The afro-headed youth's head came up, turning so that he was looking back toward the voice that had spoken. It was the human he'd observed when he'd come in. "Nightmares? rough day training?"

Rough day training. When he'd first sized the man up, the boy had come away with the presumption that the man was a soldier, rather than a Jedi. His phrasing seemed to confirm the suspicion.

"It's just you and me kid, no audience"

Hands together, the boy gave a bow at the waist, straightening back up as he moved his hands apart in a typical Echani greeting. These typically did not include words. A fact that boy made light of as he noted aloud, "Humans seek answers with words." It wasn't accusatory or perfunctory, but instead seemed almost a jest of sorts.

Dropping his center of gravity, the boy's legs spread into a t-stance as he rotated his torso slightly. One arm was extended toward the man, with a knife hand pointed at him. To an Echani, it was an invitation to spar. If the man were familiar with the Echani martial art, he might recognize the pose. The Echani followed protocol in many aspects of life and their approach to combat was no different. Duelists would start with mirrored poses, hands back-to-back, touching at the wrist before they would begin.

"The Echani believe action speaks more clearly," the youth remarked, an eagerness slipping into his voice as he did.

The soldier looked like a formidable opponent. Such were the surest way of finding one's limits, and testing them.

Zeke Dystra

 

[Zeke Dystra]

Grit And Growth
Zeke Dystra
Personal Training

At first, Zeke thought the kid was troubled with something. It was only when the kid spoke did he show how serious he was, and that in itself seemed to amuse him slightly "An interesting phrase..." he released, curiously looking on as he slowly pulled out a knife before him. Zeke raised a brow at first and didn't seem to understand what he was doing, up until he stated that actions were far better than words. In many ways than one the kid was right, but a challange? that was one thing he was hesitant about, considering how young he was.

"No offense kid, I know you're a Jedi and all but I don't think sparring me would be the wisest choice" he sighed out, his eyes comparing the differences between them. It was painfully obvious the height and weight factor would be on his side, most likely by double. Along with that, he had been built up to go against enemies that were force sensitives. Right now, everything seemed to be going against the kid.

One of the things he was cautious about was hurting him too badly. He would imagine the Jedi wouldn't be too happy to find one of their Padawans out of action from the actions of an elite soldier. But at the same time, if the kid knew what he was doing, and Zeke didn't go overboard it may be a good learning experience for the both of them. After all, he hadn't been able to go up against many Jedi during his time in the order.

"But... if you're sure you can handle yourself there's no reason I can deny the request. Just promise me to stop if you feel like things are getting too much. I'd rather not have your master kick my door down in the middle of the night..."

Calix of Thyrsus​

 

[Calix of Thyrsus]

[ post theme ]

"No offense kid, I know you're a Jedi and all but I don't think sparring me would be the wisest choice"

He was Thyrsian.

No one ever accused a Thyrsian of making the wisest of choices. Particularly if that one were an Echani.

The soldier was obviously a formidable opponent. Well disciplined, judging by his body language. That seemed to belie no certain amount of experience -- with battle if not also with years. All were things Calix could benefit to learn from.

And presumably, at least, this soldier was not actually trying to hurt him. That fact was not to be taken for granted. A lesson Calix knew only too well from his voyage to the Outer Rim with Master Harand.

"There is an old Jedi proverb," the Thyrsian noted aloud, as he settled into the opening stance of the Echani martial art, before quoting the ancient wisdom of the Old Masters of the Jedi. "'There's always a bigger fish.'"

"Just promise me to stop if you feel like things are getting too much. I'd rather not have your master kick my door down in the middle of the night..."

The large, Echani blue eyes just blinked.

A short laugh slipped out, as his posture relaxed slightly. As he adopted the proper form again, the boy noted, "If my master did, it would be to take you for..."

He trailed off there a moment, as he seemed to struggle for the proper phrase. Finally, he looked up with confusion as he asked, "What do Corellians call it?" Even as he'd asked, the word started to come to mind. But he wasn't certain they were the right words.

"...pub crawl?"

Just what a pub crawl was, Calix was certain he didn't know. Julius Sedaire never took him on one, he just heard about them. Usually in stories that only got larger and more fantastic with each re-telling.

Settling back into the opening stance, the boy shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet.

Wait, did humans know about the rules and protocols of dueling?

He'd actually never seen a human duel so... maybe the man was waiting for Calix to make the first move? "Among the Echani, the first strike belongs to the elder," the boy noted aloud.

Wait, did he just call him old?

"Uh, not that I'm saying you're old," the boy clarified.

It was a duel. Not an insult match.

Zeke Dystra

 

[Zeke Dystra]

Grit And Growth
Zeke Dystra
Personal Training

"If your master is a prominent drinker like me, we'll be sure to get along" he smirked at the kid, almost amused that he hasn't heard such an activity called a pub crawl. He was still young, so he had time to learn about its true art when he was older "Your not old enough, but you'll love it when your time comes kid, you can count on that" he said as his grin faded, his eyes glaring at the kid snap into a stance he knew too well.

"Old? now that is just unneeded," he said with a shake of his head, his head looking over to the mats that were just to the left of them "Firstly, let's go to the mats. This floor we're standing on is not safe for what we're going to do," he stated, firmly motioning his head towards the matted fight area. Zeke let him go first and walked along behind him, but just as he stepped onto the mat his leg shot around to try and sweep the kids legs from under him. Hoping he'd fall chest first to the floor, he looked down at him with a tutting sound

"Secondly, you should always keep your guard up. Calling a soldier old puts a dent in our beautiful ego" he said, using the chance to try and ruffle Calix's hair and step back a few steps to let him prepare "Alright kid, you ready?" he asked respectfully as he went into a standard fighting stance. Going all out on the kid was unnecessary, they were both here to learn, not murder each other. Remembering what the kid said about him having the first strike, he moved forward a few steps and raised his leg up to kick it into his chest. It was fast, but it didn't have enough power to hurt him badly by any means.

Calix of Thyrsus​