My Kind

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Master Grayson had received word of a Jedi Knight wanting to meet him from one of the planetary counselors. The woman had been invited shortly thereafter; he never turned away a possible student. There were too few Jedi in the galaxy capable of matching the Sith these days. In his mind, one never stopped learning. If a Knight wanted to brush up on her skills, then he would do his best to assist.

The forest was relatively uninhabited. It had been crafted specifically to serve the lords of Ession in the past; the Jedi who had fallen en mass on Kashyyyk three years ago. Cyril had lost his warriors that day: his brothers and sister. For some time he'd retreated into hermitage. Eventually he made his presence known to the greater galaxy and assisted the Galactic Alliance in establishing a foothold.

He'd returned to Ession then, occasionally taking apprentices and passing on the mass of knowledge he'd gained during the war. Another would be coming today.

He waited on the front porch of the little cabin he called home. He was clad in a simple brown jerkin, and shrouded in a cloak for warmth amidst the cold of Ession's approaching winter. There were roads leading to his home, so finding him would not be particularly difficult.

"Let's hope you're not one of the angsty ones."

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Dark emerald green fabric of Tionne's cloak trailed behind her as she meandered through the forest, brushing against heaps of dried leaves that singified an upcoming change of seasons. Winter was just around the corner, brisk air heavy with condensed vapour every time the red-haired Knight exhaled. The directions the counselors were kind enough to provide were rudementary; they probably had no idea where Grayson was even located, as he probably just appeared whenever they needed his input.

But Thanewulf needed not an extensive set of guidelines on how to find Cyril, since her ally was the Force and her intricate sensory array that allowed for detection of even the faintest deviances in the Force. In all truth, she could've sensed Grayson from lightyears away, his presence in the Force burning like a torch fueled by a blast of a supernova. Guardians had a specific connection to the Force, potent like a tumbling mountain river, their presence chaffing against Tionne's senses. The feeling it instigated was a sensory overload that could easily overtake her entire being. For this very reason, Thanewulf usually severed her connection to the Force when around Jedi Guardians, merely to reclaim her focus.

Yet now, she would have to learn how to endure the presence of a Guardian for an extended period of time. Even more so, she will have to use the Force in his presence and against him. With every next step she took towards the cabin, Tionne felt a tide rise within her. Finally, the Knight could see him waiting on the porch, unsuspecting of the flux within her. Without hesitation, she approached the chalet and stood firmly infront of Grayson, then removed the hood of her cloak to reveal a pale, freckled face framed by cascades of russet locks. Her eyes were dark grey, resembling the stormy skies of Kamino.

"Let's hope you are a better teacher than you are a judge of character." she replied dryly, but understood his concern. Grayson usually handled the angsty, conflicted kind of Jedi. Thanewulf was far from it, as Cyril would find out. For once, she slyly challenged authority whenever she could.
"I am Tionne Thanewulf." the redhead said - "I'm here to learn."
A thousand years had passed since she last sought instruction from a Jedi Master. A millenium had passed since she last stood infront of a Guardian, without being cloaked in the Force. It felt like standing in a stream of neutrinos that passed right through her, without doing any damage, yet felt like her entire being was pulsating at subatomic level.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"I do try."

The winter's first snow was going to be arriving soon. Cyril hadn't been paying much attention to the weather as of late - the convocation on Yavin and the recent shifting of the force had drawn his attentions. It was only now that he took a moment to appreciate the vivid colors of the falling leave, and the soft smell of a brewing storm in the distance. This woman had drawn him from his meditations; hopefully with good reason.

"And I am Cyril Grayson. I'm here to teach," he pushed up from his rocking chair and assessed the woman. She was petite, far too small to be studying something like Djem-so. The woman was a Knight, that much he knew, and assumed her knowledge of the force was sufficient. Most who were no longer padawans came to learn the ways of the blade, and so Cyril took the time to assess what she might be here to learn.

"Welcome to Ession. You don't see many Jedi here anymore. Most of our natives died on Kashyyk." The Jedi Master folded his arms over his chest, "I've fought in the war with the One Sith since its inception. I've learned much over the years," he drew up to his full height - easily a foot taller than Tionne, "What is it exactly you've come to learn?"

Drawing his cloak about his form, Cyril stepped out from the awning. Dark blue eyes narrowed as he assessed Tionne. She had the look, and he could certainly feel her presence within the force. He estimated she was roughly close to his age - that would change things.

"Where are you from?"

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"I know who you are, Grayson." she interrupted him and waved her hand in a semi-dismissive manner. A man of Cyril's fame needed no other introductions other than the myths weaved around his name.
"Your reputation perceeds you. Yet I thought you'd be taller, according to the legend."
The stories were, as usual, exaggerated. He was not a sevent feet tall beacon of light, but a seasoned, if not a bit weary man. Still, he was much taller and heavier than Tionne, which would generate the kind of physics in combat Tionne needed to battle against.

"To be quite frank, I am here for you to beat the hell out of me." she admitted and remained observant of his initial reaction. Most students humbly begged for any kind of training, but Thanewulf was here for a specific purpose. Soresuists were vulnerable to Form V practitioners, and Grayson was one of the finest bladesmen among the Jedi.

"Wars are not fought through meditation or plant surge, but through swings of the blade. I need to hold my own in upcoming war. There is only so far as my wit can take me." she admitted with a modest nod. Her index finger than tapped against her right temple, as if pointing at the insides of her cranium.
"This too." she added, sending a clear sign Grayson was in the presence of a skilled mentalist.

The question of her origin would be more difficult to address, but Thanewulf opted to offer the simplest of explanations.
"Coruscant is my homeworld, but I am Hapan. Both my maternal and paternal homeworlds now lie in One Sith space. So, it's kind of personal, too."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Had he been a less experienced man, Cyril might have let his pride go to his head. He'd grown to understand that fame was just another gateway to new experiences; not something to be reveled in. Besides, he was more infamous than anything. "You could use your mind powers to make yourself think I'm taller, if that would help," he lofted a brow as he approached Tionne.

Her explanation for why she had come caught him a bit off-guard, though it was met with an amused slip of a smile. She was here to be trained in the ways of the blade then; something he was known for. "So long as you promise not to call the authorities on me, I can oblige," his voice took on a teasing lite. At the very least, she understood the need for action; something many Jedi failed to understand in this day and age.

"Wit can take you far. A blade can take you farther. Together?" The Jedi Master ignited his lightsaber. "You'll be unstoppable."

The weapon cast a stark blue glow across the clearing. Cyril circled his would-be pupil, observing her stance, and then the forest around them. "I trained a Hapan once. He went on to open up a hospital. Charming little guy," the lightsaber was doused, "I'm from Gratos. I was a slave. The Order took me in, and now Ession is my home."

The master smiled. "Knowing where someone is from can open doors. Apologies for prying."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Grayson began circling her like a vulture around a carcass, his sapphire blade steadily humming from the hilt firmly planted in his able hand. He certainly wasted no time, Thanewulf thought to herself, like the limp sages who slouched about the Jedi temple and decided the fate of the entire Order. No, Cyril was not the deliberating, contemplative kind of Jedi. Yet, Tionne remained unphased by his display of initiative, at least for the time being.

"Without false modesty, unstoppable is not the adjective I am looking for. Perhaps merely...alive." the redhead reflected with a quirk of ginger brow. Tionne was lithe, but sinewy and flexible. She lacked strength and constitution, but had formidable stamina, as mentalists drew their energy from it when performing mindtricks. Stamina too, was a key ingredient in Form III, Tionne's preferred style of combat.

"I had a master once. He was a tree-hugging Consular. He lasted exactly five point seven seconds before a Sith Lord impaled him on an amphistaff." the Coruscanti said, her voice ladden with sarcasm - "Different times, different Jedi."
She unclipped the pin that held her cloak in place, then swung it backwards to peel the fabric away and reveal her slender form. Tionne was clad in white long sleeved form-fitting jump-suit, in stark contrast with dark gray flight boots. At her waist, a belt, holding the electrum hilt of her saber. With an elegant snap-hiss, the Solari crystal blade came to life, illuminating Thanewulf's face in amber-gold hues. She then lifted the blade over her head, taking the traditional Soresu pose.

"Begin, Master Grayson." she beckoned him to attack.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"They're one in the same Thanewulf." Cyril quipped as he came to a halt. She spoke of consulars and withered old men. These were the Jedi of old; sages who lived more in the realm of the ethereal than the physical. One day he would be one of them. His connection to the force grew stronger each day, and the first signs of age were beginning to show around his eyes

But not today.

"Nothing wrong with them. Some people are warriors. Others are scholars." He drew in a deep breath, "And some of us are a bit of both." He huffed a quiet laugh as she took her stance. He knew Soresu well enough to recognize its opening motions, and his experience told him to give her a bit of distance.

Of course, there was another factor in play. Tionne was small. Cyril was not. He had two favored forms: a sub-set of Niman that he'd blended into his own form for taking apart larger opponents, and a utilization of Djem'so's raw brute force. He went with the latter here.

With his blade held high over the back of his head, Cyril stepped forward.

"I never had a talent for mentalism. The blade has always been my calling." He spoke both to explain and to distract. His lightsaber was quick, though the momentum he required for his powerful lunges made his motions slow enough to pick up with the naked eye. The weapon came down in a baleful arc meant to not only meat Tionne's defense, but crush it. The second strike that came after it was of a similar kind.

"Soresu - lovely choice!"

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

These were the tell-tale slashes trained Form V users delivered, crushing most other saber styles with a single blow. Makashi was especially fragile to such amount of blunt force; elegant fencing was no match for a full-blown swat from above. The only form that fared better than Soresu under Djem-so attacks was Ataru, a style not so popular with Jedi of today as it required both skill with blade and prowess in physical aspects of the Force.
Tionne was closer to being a master of Form III than being a beginner; she had a more fair share of training and clashes with the Sith. Perhaps, she was not victorious, but Soresu served its purpose well - defense.

All of her power was thus directed into her arms that held a sideways parry in place, aiming to let Cyril's blade slide off as it descended from above. The sheer might of his blow decreased the distance between them, bringing them closer than arm's length. She then pushed him off with the aid of the Force, giving him space to deliver yet another similar, albeit not as potent blow. Tionne blocked his blade again, only to deliver a Force-assisted kick into his kneecap. The problem with Form V was - the practitioner constantly closes distance between himself and the target, which is actually beneficial to Soresuists who expend as little energy as possible to wear off the opponent. Tight spaces were their speciality.

Widening grey eyes met Grayson's blue orbs; in an instant, the redhead was inside Grayson's head.
"It was hardly a choice." she projected, while her essence lingered somewhere in the corner of his mind. The inside of his skull felt surprisingly active, as if there is more to this man than a weapon instumentalized by the Jedi. She quickly palpated parts of his neocortex through the Force, simply to ascertain where center for vision was, before he attempted to force her out of his head.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril had hoped to end their contest in the opening strike. Fortunately that was not the case. His first strike was dealt with adequately - the second in a similar fashion. The Jedi Master cracked a thin smile as his attacks were propelled. It seemed Tionne was proficient enough in her form to counter basic attacks. He would have to be more inventive.

"Good bladework," he quipped just as she forced herself into his head. Cyril was a master when it came to defending himself from mental attacks, but he had not been expecting this one. He'd counted on this being a contest of blades alone rather than incorporating the force as well. The momentary distraction allowed her kick to land home. It would have shattered his kneecap had he not turned into the strike.

The momentum was enough to drive his leg out from under him, and he fell into a crouch. "Low blows? You're fighting to win," his lips pursed as he locked down his mind. His was a mental barrier borne of the force; a wall one could not simply break down. You needed to find the little cracks if you wanted a way inside.

Cyril's lightsaber raised up to defend against the strike he anticipated Tionne would deliver in retaliation. Then he sprang from the balls of his feet toward the Knight, his shoulder dipping low to effectively shoulder-check her and send her reeling.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Sheer physics prevented Tionne from delivering a counter-blow in a similar manner as Greyson; she was simply too light to attain such momentum. As all of her effort was directed into the offensive, albeit frail swipe, she could not anticipate Cyril's attempt to ram into her, shoulder first. He managed to literally force himself through her attack and smash into the far end of her collar bone with considerable force, sending Tionne off onto a spinning trajectory backwards. The hilt was ejected out of her hand, leaving her weaponless as her back slammed to the forest floor, her fall somewhat cushioned by dry leaves littering the soil.

"Ahhh..." the redhead grunted quiescently, as her spine bashed against the ground, together with the base of her skull. Thankfully, a head full of locks prevented any serious injury by acting as a buffer between extruded roots and her cranium.

She gasped, air momentarily expunged from her lungs by the energy of the impact. Hapans were as frail as they were inhumanely beautiful. Their bones were light and brittle, as those of a bird. Their bodies were not made for combat, but for art and the sciences. Nonetheless, Thanewulf would not give up so easily.

The redhead tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but failed. She'd have to wait for a few moments for sharp pain to subdue.
"Fighting... to sur...vive, not... win." Tionne said in a somewhat raspy, intermitted voice as she attempted to catch her breath.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"I'm afraid you would be very dead right now, Tionne." Cyril doused his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. The maneuver Cyril had used was not something Jedi usually employed - simply because it was not a maneuver. It was something you were more likely to learn in basic CQC than anything else, and even then he'd left himself open. He had gambled, and won.

"You have to react faster. My face was low. You could have kneed it," the Jedi Master offered a hand, "Still, it was a good go of it. Your Soresu is impressive. Most people can't stand an opening strike like that; you repelled it with ease."

There's potential here.

The snow began to fall then. With it came the cold evening winds Cyril had come to recognize as the forests' own. This was the kind of weather he loved; the kind of weather he fought his best in. "Lightsaber combat is as much blunt maneuvers as it is finesse," he paused, "-and the use of mentalism caught me off-guard. You almost took the one arm I still have."

He held up his right arm an flexed. The quiet whir of servos could just barely be heard over the blistering cold. "Almost."

His gaze shifted toward the forest beyond. Winter was beginning to move in. There was no better time to learn the way of the blade, in his opinion anyway. "You said you came to learn Tionne," dark blue eyes shifted to gaze into grays, "You may stay until spring. After that I have to return to Sullust and assist with the war effort - what is it you wish to learn, specifically?"

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Without much hesitation, Tionne took his hand and once again stood on her feet. The pain in her back still lingered, reminding of her mistake. If nothing else, there would be a few bruises that would need tending before she went to sleep. Electrum hilt flew back into the palm of her hand only to be reattached to her belt. Just as the Jedi woman regained her focus, first snowflakes landed onto the forest floor. Tionne looked up at the sky with a half-smile. How long since she last saw snow? Several years perhaps? The flaking of white specks intensified, some of them caught in the web of her russet locks. Unlike Grayson, Thanewulf cherished a moment in which nature underwent a subtle, albeit crucial phase transition. Her eyes found his when he mentioned spring. In her book, three months was a very, very long time.

"To effectively defend myself against the likes of you." the redhead voiced, continuing to specify what exactly she wanted to learn from Cyril - "You are the closest thing there is a to a Sith Lord - in skill, power and prowess with saber. There is a war brewing and I for once will not stand and watch them take the entire galaxy. Not while the Galactic Alliance stands. Someone has to stop them. Or die trying."

In all truth, Tionne's Soresu was more than fair for a Knight of her rank. She had substantial stamina, solid footwork, yet hand to hand combat needed more training.
"I know I am not the strongest out there. And I will never be. My bones will shatter a thousand times before I even dent my opponent. Fully aware of this I am. Nonetheless, I will fight." the ginger-maned woman said, earnest in her intentions. She had the resolve, the determination and most importantly, endless patience. Three months in a cabin with Grayson would be endured.
"I'm not afraid to die." she added, half-absentminded, as snow set upon her shoulders - "All those I knew are now with the Force, waiting for me. I hope to meet them again...soon."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Tionne was asking a lot. Not that he could not provide. In fact, Cyril rather enjoyed training new students. The amount of age she had on her was unusual, but he could cope. She wanted to fight in the big leagues, per sey. He could help her attain the skill she needed - if she proved to have the patience. Folks tended to think success in combat came from repetition alone. While that was true in part, it was also not. A Jedi Master's power came from his or her connection to the force. Such was the way Cyril had survived on so many battlefields.

"Well, I do like to wear black," he dead panned. The Jedi Master folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head back to observe the snow fall. Cyrene had always liked this kind of thing. His eyes narrowed.

"You have resolve, and that's good, but don't let it drive you. I walked that path, and my people suffered for it. You've heard of the battle of Kashyyk?" He lofted a brow. "Ten thousand of my greatest warriors, Jedi and soldiers alike, marched to meet the Sith war machine. We killed two of the Dark Lord's voices. I defeated one. In my victory, I lost sight of the greater battle. We were outflanked. My people were cut down."

Cyril shook his head and sighed, "Thus came the end of the Ession Reformation. My focus on stopping the Sith didn't stop there, and I lost my wife because of it."

He turned his gaze on Tionne. "The Sith are not our greatest threat. We need to deal with them, yes, but there is something far more dangerous within our own ranks. I've sensed it for a long time, but I can't pin down what it is." Disappointment laced his words. That darkness had eluded him for some time. Perhaps Tionne's presence would bring it to life.

"Come inside. It's cold, and I can't teach a stranger. I need to know you."


[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Ashen irises widened at the mention of word wife. Were the Jedi truly uncapable of a life dedicated only to service, free of any form of attachments? Apparently not, as even the iconic Jedi Mastar Grayson had succumbed to the mechanics of an ordinary life. Relationships, in Tionne's mind at least, were liabilities. If someone would mourn her passing, if her death inflicted pain to those around her, her heart would wither away. Despite appearing virtually emotionless, Thanewulf was far from it. She felt deeply, perhaps much deeper than others, but never allowed for it to surface. Underneath all that apparent indifference was a heart burning with love for the world.

"I've sensed it too, for quite some time now." she replied as the two made way to the cabin, her white cloak once again draping from her shoulders to shield her from both cold and snow - "However, he or she...or them are better at cloaking their presence in the Force than I am. Mind you,I've been doing this my entire life."

The redhead sunk into the cloak and followed the Jedi Master into the chalet which they would share in the upcoming months. Warm light emanated from the windows, as if the inside was warmed by an open hearth.
"I was woken from my carbonite stasis shortly after battle of Kashyyk. But I've heard what happened and was not surprised. A well known pattern of arrogance and overconfidence I see among the Jedi." she stated, without intention of blaming Grayson for the final outcome.

"In my time, the Sith were nothing more than a sect I was keeping an eye on as Jedi Watchman. A thousand years later, they've gnawed out the heart of the galaxy, like many times before. I sometimes wonder how we never forsee such regress, despite it being more or less cyclical." commented the Jedi woman as they set foot on the porch of Grayson's home.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Someone else had picked up the presence? Good. It had first shown itself during the convocation, and was a major factory in Cyril's absence from the function itself. He'd tried to combat it; to pin down its location in the physical realm. Unfortunately things just couldn't be that simple. He'd opted to sit and wait in his little cottage on Ession; using the serenity provided by his hermitage to find his target. He'd need to take s break from such activities for now.

"It's a child, I know that much," he murmured quietly as the door shut behind them. "I don't know how I know, but I do."

The cottage wasn't particularly large. A single main room linked with the kitchen, and an adjacent bedroom. The main room was host to a sofa, a holo vision, and a cupboard. It was devoid of anything else. It seemed Cyril did not place much value in material things - that or he was just very poor.

"You have to understand, we didn't know much about the Sith after the plague. Much of our past knowledge was lost to us. What was retained in holocrons and archives was lost to the darkness." The Jedi Master pulled two glasses from the pantry, and filled them both with Alderaanian wine. He wasn't much of a drinker, but wine was alright.

"We had to rebuild from the ground up. Fragmentations happened. People died." He frowned, "I was born Sith. My father was one of the many Sith Emperors. Eventually I saw the error of his teachings and became a Jedi. We dueled, I ended his life. We thought the wars were over then."

He took a sip of the wine. It was as sweet as he remembered, and he allowed himself to savor it. The other glass was slid Tionne's way.

"As you can tell, we were wrong. Now I live in a cabin on the outer rim. Some would say I've lost my teeth," he glanced at her over the rim of the glass, "What do you think - and moreover, what is your story?"

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of burning pines and melting resin brushing against Tionne's attuned senses. A cloak was no longer needed, the flames providing more than enough heat to warm the interior of Grayson's chalet. As she listened to the Jedi Master, Thanewulf sampled the wine she was offered, letting the exquisite aroma simmer against her palate. Out of all worldly temptations, she found it the hardest to resist quality liquor. When he posed the inevitable question, Tionne gazed into the fire, her usually cold-stone orbs lit up by the titian flares swaying in the fireplace.

" I was born exactly one year after the battle of Yavin, when the Galactic Empire fell. My father was a professor of xenobiology at Coruscant University, my mother a rather famous Hapan mathematician. Apart from being a prodigy, I led a normal life until I turned 13 when I earned a double doctorate in astrophysics and xenobiology. Both my parents and me disappeared during a family trip, while I reappeared in a year's time, half way across the galaxy, with no memories of where I was or why I was there to begin with. A Jedi Watchman picked me up from moon of Va'art and took me to the Order. Eight years later, I became a Jedi Watchman too, the eyes and the ears of the Council. Later in my life I found out I was abducted by the Vong when I crossed path with the species in Wild Space. I was on my way to warn the Jedi Council of their presence when a Sith Lord had me captured by freezing me in carbonite. If I warned the Jedi on time, the map of the galaxy would look very, very different today."

A short pause ensued, purely for the sake of drawing in another mouthful of wine. Tionne's eyes were still settled on the fire, captivated by its incadescence. The monologue then continued -
"I spent almost 900 years frozen. The Jedi of Galactic Republic found me in a cave, by following a local folk-tale of a sleeping beauty turned to stone. They woke me and returned me to the Order, which I left after the Sith invaded Telti and the Rebels lost Geonosis. The Republic will never be prepared for Sith war machine and soon enough, they will have nowhere to hide. Ego and pride will be the demise of the Jedi. And their fondness for attachment too."
The redhead sniffled, then finally glanced sideways at Grayson.
"Thankfully, I am not a Jedi anymore."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril did not respond all at once. He allowed himself to savor the wine before allowing himself to get heated. Tionne was one of those types. So many Jedi left the order because they disagreed with their policies instead of sticking it out and trying to make change. That was the primary reason why the One Sith now had control of the galactic core - not power, not passion.

"Ego and pride are traits very few Jedi have," he responded calmly, "Those that do rarely finish their training. No, the primary reason for our decline is our lack of tenacity. I cannot tell you how many Jedi I have seen leave the order to build their own version of what they think Jedi to be. At first it was the Silvers, who took a great number of our knights. They were cowards. They left us because they disagreed with the manner of the Republic's victory in the great war - rather than try and help bring change, they ran." Dark blue eyes stared into grays, "Others followed their lead. Now we have three major orders with no central leadership."

Cyril shook his head, "Forgive my language, but things are karked as of late." The Jedi Master grumbled a curse under his breath. He was one of the few Jedi that saw this war's beginning; one of the few that had fought it from the start.

The amber glow of the wine suddenly felt all too alluring.

"Attachment is not a weakness. Possession is. Love is a powerful thing; one something Padawans are not ready for. Jedi who have something to fight for generally perform better in the field: that much is proven. Those who are mature enough to withstand the loss of their loved ones should not be restricted from being human. Those who are not should wait."

He refilled the glass.

"Nine hundred years old? You've aged well." Cyril snickered.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

She was warned Grayson was Jedi to the very core, his beliefs set in stone. The idea of unification of Jedi was primarily his, to restore the Order to its former might and glory. But why mend something that was not broken? In Tionne's opinion, people were free to leave the Order for whatever reasons they saw fit; she had no right to judge their choices without having walked a mile in their shoes.

Cyril, on the other hand, was far more judgemental, which irritated her a great deal. In all truth, Thanewulf never quite fit in the Jedi Order; she was trained late and then went on to become a Jedi Watchman who spent most of her time pretending she was not a Jedi. The philosophy Grayson advocated was thus unfamiliar to her, far removed from her own personal experience and the perspective she gained by traversing the world on her own accord. Sure, the Old Order tried to instill in her the tenets Cyril was not preaching, but without true success. She had remained an individual, rather than a part of a collective, sharing very little with any known group in the galaxy.

"I'm not nine hundred years old, I was born nine hundred years ago." she corrected him, completely neutralizing his semi-compliment - "I've seen my share of wars and prosperity, nonetheless."

The redhead then downed the glass completely and turned to face Grayson. Her face was still illuminated by the fire, her fair features caressed by the golden light emanating from the hearth.
"I see you are unfamiliar with Galactic history, Master Grayson. Tell me, has the Jedi Order ever triumphed against the Sith? It was only when it was reduced to bits, at the brink of extinction, that it was restored by a few extraordinary individuals. The truth is - Jedi do not fare well when in numbers. Recall the fall of the Republic and the rise of Emperor Palpatine. At that time, almost ten thousand Jedi served at Coruscant, after several thousand years of peace. Prolongued periods without war and conflict bring lull the Jedi into sleep. They do not train as hard, they become lax, they become overconfident. Then it takes but a single powerful individual to pull the strings and overthrow them. Have we not witnessed this a number of times, the same scenario?"

She paused, quirking a ginger brow. Thanewulf challenged him, paying no attention to his rank and experience. She didn't travel across half the galaxy to pay respects to a weathered Jedi Master hiding on a remote planet.
"Do I sense ambition? And who would be the supreme Leader of Jedi? You?" the ginger-maned woman inquired, taking a step towards him.
"Why should we entrust leadership of an entire movement to a single person? And trust that person to have a proper sense of direction? How is that any different than despotism we fight against?"

Grey eyes bore deeply into his blue orbs, a glint of defiance in slate-coloured irises.
"As for attachment, don't be so apolegetic. A Jedi should fight for the world, for those who are not yet born, for the future. Not for a wife waiting for him in a warm bed."
Tionne scanned his face idly, as if appreciating the imminent angular symmetry of his jawline.
"Most people are uncapable of this level of dedication. This is why your idea of what Jedi should do does not quite work in reality. We are a fickle kind."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

A few years ago he might have snapped at her. Now? He listened with a faint loo of interest. She accused him of ambition, of idealism, and an inability to look at galactic history. In reality, Cyril was the opposite of all of these things. When she finally finished speaking, he allowed himself a long sip of the wine, and smiled.

"Tionne, a few thousand years of peace is ridiculous. No other power in the galaxy has ever attained such, but the Republic did with the help of the order." He slid his empty glass to the side. For a moment, he allowed himself a glance outside. Twilight had come, and night would soon follow. They would have all night to debate.

Good. It was rare Cyril ever had the opportunity to speak with someone of equal station on the heavier topics - even if they were in disagreement. Cracking an amused little smile, the Jedi Master turned his attentions back to Tionne. He really hadn't noticed just how small she was, had he?

"The Sith are eternal, so long as the Dark Side exists. If we finally destroy them all, then a new sect will turn up. That's just how the galaxy works. Be that as it may, we've defeated the Sith in almost every major conflict since their inception more than ten thousand years ago. We take our licks, but in the end, the Jedi have always triumphed. So long as we can keep them from ruling the galaxy, and put a stop to their genocidal crusades, I'd say the order has done its job."

A huff of amusement escaped him. Tionne would not be his student - yes, he would teach her the ways of the blade, but she had adopted her own views just as he had. This would not be the typical experience, it seemed. "I have no desire to rule. I have been thrust into positions of power since my early childhood. The Sith Emperor made me the commander of his fleets when I was little more than a boy. When I came to Ession's aid, they made me their lord. My mother was the queen of Naboo until her passing, bless her soul, and I was the ambassador for that world to the Republic. Believe me Tionne, if I wanted power, I could have taken it many times."

The Jedi Master shrugged, "We need a ruling council. People like to think the order can operate without leadership - it can't. Look at any other similar organization without strong leadership. The Wardens of the Sky, Jensaarai, the Greens; all just as capable as we are, yet they have never been able to have the same level of impact. The reason? We were always united. That was our strength. Without leadership, people develop their own views of the code; ideals warp, and eventually we have dynasties of force sensitives ruling over entire systems. Look at the Heavenshield clan. They lead their Silver Sanctum, a husband and wife. They've become a dynasty. Sure, the two of them are good people, but their grandchildren? The children of their grandchildren? What happens then?"

Another pause.

"Those people who can't dedicate themselves should not become Jedi. Simple enough."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"Don't be hypocritical, Grayson. If you were so concerned about Force-sensitive dynasties ruling the galaxy, you would've never married." she retorted boldly, openly challenging his authority. Here he was complaining about the Heavenshields, yet had everything set up for Grayson dynasty. She felt a need to tell him, since noone else probably ever dared.

"The children of two Force-sensitives are always Force-sensitive. The children of a Force-sensitive and regular folk are three quarters Force sensitive, while the remaining quarter carries the recessive gene. If the Jedi married since the begging of time, everyone in this forsaken galaxy would be Force sensitive. That is simply the mechanics behind the mutation resposible for our profound connection with the Force. And the reason why attachment was banned among the Jedi until you decided to abandon it." the redhead lectured, remining Grayson about some key facts from biology.

She set the glass above the fireplace and turned on her heel to walk to the window. Sun was hanging low on the horizon, making way for tapestry of stars that dragged across the sky from the east. She leaned in onto the window sill as she watched the snow cover the forest that surrounded them.

"I can't blame people for not living up to the ideal carved inside your head, Grayson. Even you have trouble with it." she concluded quietly, letting him know she was in disagreement with him, but still wanted to stay. Perhaps with time, the deep cleft between them would close and both of them would understand each other's position.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]