My Kind

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"The force does not work that way, and my wife was not sensitive to the force." Cyril stated bluntly. "Dynasties are built by ruling families with absolute power. Not what I involved myself in." He frowned. This was not going to be an enjoyable winter, was it? She assumed far too many things, and there were holes in her argument that he forced himself not to take advantage of. In short, he was starting not to care.

"Attachment was banned from the Order to find better clarity. It was proven that line of thought was faulty after the fall of the Empire." He was done. He capped the wine bottle, slid it back into its place within his fridge, and turned toward the door.

"If you're blaming me for adhering to a strict ideal, perhaps you should look in the mirror?" There was no hostility in his voice, though it could easily be taken that way. He reached over to a nearby stand and pulled his cloak from the rack. Drawing the brown cloth about himself, Cyril looked over his shoulder at the redhead. "The bedroom is yours, this room is mine. You should sleep. We start early tomorrow."

Without awaiting a reply, Cyril went on his way toward the trail he always took this late in the evening.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Evidently, her words had struck a chord with the Jedi Master. When she had him cornered, he pulled away. Tionne could feel something brewing inside him when Grayson stormed out of the chalet, slamming the door behind him. Thanewulf could've sworn she felt anger. She managed to flip out one of the most powerful Jedi in the entire galaxy, over a simple, short conversation. But instead of triumph, she felt shame. He welcomed her with open arms, ready to instruct her further in the ways of the lightsaber. Cyril opened doors to his home, the most intimate of places of all. And he gave her his bed, where she would sleep over the course of the winter, while he takes the rather uncomforable couch. A few fleeting moments had passed and she was already regretting every single word she uttered.

As Cyril suggested, the Jedi woman retreated to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. There was nothing inside but a large mirror and a double bed with sides cast out from solid iron. Bed sheets were pure linen, in earthy tones. Instead of a blanket, a quill made out of soft animal fur. The room was illuminated by two metal candlesticks positioned at each side of the bed, each holding five thick candles. Tionne approached the mirror and stood infront of it. Her hand slid the zipper of her jumpsuit down, stopping somewhere just over her belly button. The Jedi woman looked at herself, beholding the image of a ripe woman in her prime. She was no longer a girl, a few creases forming on her face to signify she was soon to transgress into her thirties. His words echoed in her ears still. Was she the one who was trying to act out an ideal built for gods, not men? Had she forgotten how to be human?

Grayson was out of the cottage, but he was still felt. He couldn't remove himself from the equation, not without a starship. Thanewulf then moved to the window of the bedroom that overlooked a path that meandered into the forest. In the emerging night she could see a cloaked figure walking among the trees, into the darkness. Her hand instinctively pressed against the glass as she leaned in towards the window sill. Ginger hair cascaded down her sides and over her torso, concealing skin revealed when she opted to unzip the jumpsuit.

"Don't go...." she whispered, her words unintentionally reverberating across the Force, as she watched him disappear from plain sight. Tionne then reallocated to bed and lay across the animal skins, curling up into a fetal position. After a while she fell asleep, much before Grayson had returned from his night stroll. She remained in the same position until morning, sleeping fully dressed through the entirety of the night.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Ession was his home. It had been since the earliest days of the Reformation, when the late Jedi Lords wiped out the Sith ruling the city-planet. Cyril was leading those men and women then, and the people of Ession had made him their leader. Over time the lords gave up their power in favor of a democratic government, but it never stopped being his world. The handful of forests it did have were almost always artificial, but he knew them well. This one in particular was his favorite. The old oak trees and the small mammals that wandered the wintry landscape brought him some semblance of peace. Tionne had managed to strike touch a nerve; she had spoken of his ex-wife. That wound had not yet healed, and she'd managed to reopen it.

He did not return to the cabin until the waking hours of the morning. Sleep would not come to this night; his mind was moving too quickly. Whatever strength he might need for the next day would come from the force. He strolled down the hall to check on the Thanewulf before settling into his meditations. The door creaked as he peeked inside. She lay there dreaming, of what he could only guess. Good, she would need the rest. Breathing a quiet sigh, Cyril closed the door and made his way back toward the main room.

There he remained for another three hours. His time was spent with meditations at first, and then an hour of holovision. Even a Jedi Master had his shows. When the sun finally began to rise over Ession's distant cityscape, he decided it was time to begin. Drawing his cloak about him, Cyril made his way back to Tionne's room, knocked, then opened the door.

"Time to get up Tionne. We've a lot to cover today. Better to start early and finish before night comes," he paused, "I made caf."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

His soft words woke her up from a dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes and erected herself in bed, still clad in clothes from yesterday. One hand rubbed her eyes, while the other pulled up the zipper of her jumpsuit all the way to the base of her neck. Tionne half-smiled and blinked, the earliest of mornings not exactly the time for being blatantly sarcastic and argumentative. The way she acted was like a child who was woken up for school by a doting parent, impatent regarding the new day that lay ahead.

"I'm awake." she replied and rose from the bed to stretch. A few displaced vertebrae fell into place after several loud cracks. The smell of caf permeated the air.

"Is...that for me?" she asked upon seeing a cup on the kitchen counter when she made her way to the living room. Her eyes searched the couch, but there was no sign of blanket or pillow. Apparently, Grayson did very little sleeping last night. And Tionne still felt awful. An apology was in order.

"Look, I am really sorry about last night." she began, as her fingers wrapped around the cup to hold it - "I really did not intend to insult you in any way. If I did, I am truly sorry. Please accept my sincere apology."

Was that so hard? No. Thanewulf swallowed her pride for the sake of peace between them. The two still disagreed, neither of them switching minds overnight. But at least she had some semblance of respect for Cyril, which would grow into admiration over time.

"Now you know why I am single." she added almost jokingly and sipped the caf, relishing its rich aroma.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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She was apologizing? Cyril had not expected such from Tionne. Not to say that he thought she could not recognize their msitakes - they'd simply been on two sides of a very important issue for the order. He did not answer at once, instead opting to let silence permeate the room for a moment. He sipped his caf disinterestedly and turned his gaze toward the woman.

"My wife is a sore issue. We met while I was stirring up rebel activity on Balmorra. She was Imperial. I swayed her to the cause, and we married a year later. The rebels gained control of Balmorra - unfortunately Darth Arcis, the reigning Sith Lord of that world, decided glassing it was the quickest way to end the uprising," he took another sip, "Over a hundred thousand people were disintegrated in half an hour. My wife pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord, gave him our location."

He set the caf on the table and shook his head, "Which explains why I'm single." A hint of amusement laced his words, though sorrow was present as well. He drained what remained of the liquid and set the mug in the sink, pushing up to his feet as he did so. "Thank you for the apology."

Cyril gave her a half smile before shrugging off his cloak and turning toward the door. He was clad in the same leather tunic as the day before. "Before you can learn how to use a lightaber correctly, you need to master hand to hand combat. We'll be studying Teras Kasi today. I'll be waiting behind the house; dress appropriately."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"Alright." Thanewulf retorted simply and drew in a mouthful of caf as she watched him leave through the door, presumably to prepare for lesson on Teras Kasi he would give today. The redhead finished her drink and planted the cup into the sink, then returned to the bedroom to change.

A million thoughts swarmed in her mind as she ruminated over what Grayson said. It still appeared to her she was right about attachments; if Grayson never succumbed to the charm of an Imperial, he would leave no space for emotional trauma. Who in their right mind would ever willingly expose themself to such vulnearbility? Was it really worth it? Tionne had not intention of finding out, if she had ways to prevent it. Put a wall between oneself and the world, she though, and no harm would come apart from an opponent's blade. Cyril was not only abandoned, but betrayed. The Hapan woman couldn't even fathom how it felt.

The redhead changed into a black tank top and a pair of black shorts that left most of her legs exposed. Boots remained on her feet to protect her from snow. Ginger hair was quickly assembled into a thick braid. The attire was fitting for training, not constraining motion in any direction. It was cold outside, but Tionne figured movement and physical strain would soon warm her up. The Jedi woman than made her way to the back of the house where she found Grayson waiting for her.

"Teach me. And don't spare me." she encouraged Cyril as she approached to stand mere two feet in front of him - "I can take it."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril hoped the snowfall would be enough to cushion a hard fall.

Teras Kasi was an art built specifically around defeating Jedi. While formidable on its own, when utilized by a Jedi, it could prove deadly. Cyril watched as Tionne strode out from the house clad in minimal clothing. He'd retained his tunic, though the cloak was left behind. His lightsaber was set on one of the tables on the back patio. The backyard was little more than a patch of grass carved into the forest. It stretched for ten feet either way and then gave way to the trees. Considering how difficult it had been just to raise the forest, Cyril had tried his best to keep as much of it up as possible.

"Teras Kasi is one of the more difficult arts to learn. It revolves on precise offensive maneuvers and creating a bulwark with your forearms," he explained, "When dealing with force sensitives, it's better to focus on staying on your feet rather than holding them back with brute force. The easiest way to teach you the defensive form is to show you."

Cyril fell to a knee, and held his arms forward, one angled straight, the other slightly above it. The posture looked odd, but in reality it gave him a number of possible maneuvers. He grinned. "Your goal here is to knock me down, Tionne. Come at me."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Half a foot of snow had settled during the night, providing more than enough cushion if Tionne was to slam against the ground. The pain in her back was still present, but was quickly alleviated through the Force. The sheer difference in size between them assured an unfair fight, even if Thanewulf correctly utilized the leveraging techniques he was about to show her. The only viable outcome was a bunch of bruises for the red-maned Jedi and a lesson well learned. Nonetheless, it didn't mean she'd go down without a fight. Grey eyes narrowed at Grayson, cat-like orbs turning into nothing more than tiny, ominous looking slits.

Thanewulf dashed towards him, directing all power she could muster to her arms and hands, in the very same manner she prepared to defend from a Djem-So slash. The redhead literally ran into him in a semi-crouch, allowing for his hands to land on her shoulders, while her own palms grabbed his forearms firmly. When she anchored herself firmly, a foot was sent flying sideways, aiming for the side of his knee. A blow was delivered to the place where his kneecap was straddled in place by his meniscus ligament, where she knew it would do most damage. While her one leg was in air, the other could've been easily kicked out of balance and make the Jedi woman lose footing.

Her attack was far from learned and trained, but was more instinctual and unpredictable. In absence of any knowledge of technique, Tionne let herself regress to a wild, almost animalistic style. If she was to be subdued, Grayson would have to use considerable force, under risk of inflicting some serious injuries.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Teras Kasi was designed to take down force sensitives via careful placement of one's hands and feet. The same could be applied to unarmed combat with little to no issue. Her foot came forward and met its mark on his knee. The blow was jarring enough to send a shock of pain up his spine, but he did not let the momentary agony make him falter. She had chosen to grapple him - a mistake.

A leg stretched out she'd left on the ground. At the same time, his hand balled up into a fist and came upward toward her midriff. Tionne wanted to be trained, and he could not pull any punches if she was to learn adequately. The watchman needed to feel all the pain of real battle if she was to learn how to counter it.

"The key to victory-" he grumbled a curse as another shudder of pain passed through him, "Is to let your opponent make the first move, and capitalize off his or her mistakes. Observation." he fell silent as the first flew forward. If he managed to make contact, Tionne would be faced with all the physical strength in Cyril's left arm crashing into her gut.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Her mid-section was now exposed, as her hands grappled Cyril by the forearms. Her arms were much shorter than Grayson's, leaving him with enough space to ram a fist right into her gut from below. If he was precise enough, he could deliver a forceful blow right into her liver, maybe even crack a rib if he tried. His fist came flying right under her diaphragm and made its way into her stomach, momentarily ejecting air from her lungs. Thanewulf gasped, her grip of Grayson's forearm falthering. She finally let him go and pulled back, bending over from immense pain. Internal bleeding was inevitable.

"You told me to attack you..." she voiced intermittently, as she felt her gut twist and churn - "You didn't tell me how."
The redhead pulled her fists close to her face, holding her forearms in a defense position. Her fists clenched instantly, ready to be used. Her gaze was focused on Cyril as she began to hop in place to keep herself warm, waiting for him to deliver the next blow.

Thanewulf then began coughing, a few loud gasps sending first blood flying into the snow. She spat out the remainder then wiped her fleshy lips with the back of her hand, visibly unphased by the internal damage Jedi Master had already caused. Her tongue then ran across her lower lip, savoring the metallic taste of her blood. Every lesson came at a cost.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"Exactly," he stated simply as he rose up to his full height, "I cannot teach you this in the ways you would learn other arts. Teras Kasi is hands on." He gave no further explanation. His knee was still stinging with pain, but he gave it little mind. The blood dribbling from her lips only worried him for a moment. If she wished to learn, then she would have to master the pain, otherwise this exercise was pointless.

Still, he was not without compassion.

"I will heal whatever wounds you receive. You'll not have to suffer long. It's a part of the process." He stepped forward. She was smart to hold her arms up - he had planned to go for her head. Blue eyes darted across her form. "There are established strikes, but the majority of your time will be spent observing your opponent. Watching for openings. Taking advantage of them." His gaze fell on her knee for but a moment.

Then he charged, fist raised as if he intended to strike. A moment later he dropped low, his hands falling to the ground to maintain his weight so that his leg might sweep out and knock her down.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Thankfully, Force sense came with some perks, one of them being lightning-fast reflexes. In the very same manner how she could detect the Force, Tionne could also discern intent when Force was used against her. She observed Grayson intently as he spoke, noticing how he scanned her entire form, presumeably in search of faults. Hapans were equally frail everywhere, their bones not as dense and brittle. But they were light, which certainly had its advantages, especially when dealing with opponents who couldn't gain enough momentum due to their mass, at least not without expending massive amounts of energy.

"Pain should become second skin, I understand." the redhead retorted, then spat out some more blood into the snow. Viscous red liquid seeped all the way to the ground, leaving a frozen, crimson speck. Pain was present, but Thanewulf ignored it. At the end of this exercise, she would be as broken on the outside as she was on the inside, a perfect balance.

When Grayson charged towards her, Tionne had to both think and act fast. In a fraction of a second his intent became evident - he was going to sweep her off her feet. As the most effective countermeasure, Thanewulf jumped in the air to avoid his strike, his leg sweeping a few centimeters below the soles of her boots. A few fleeting moments later she landed beside him, then swung her foot in a sideways kick aimed at his jawline. He was still low enough for her to deliver a blow to the head without having to worry about the difference in height between the two. If he wanted to block her advance, Cyril would have to grab her by the ankle and pull her off her balance.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril was too caught up in his prior motions to pay much mind to her attack. Even Jedi Master's had issues with overconfidence on occasion. Her foot met his jaw with a crack - his teeth cut the inside of his cheek. The shock of the blow sent him reeling, though he managed to right himself before he went tumbling over.

"Exactly," he praised, grinning as he spat out a glob of viscous blood. The cheek hurt like hell, and it wasn't going to stop bleeding anytime soon. Anything on the face tended to bleed extensively.

He span about to face her. She'd managed to land the kick, but that left her vulnerable, if only for the moment. Cyril could not work up the momentum he might need to really tackle her down, but he could go for the next best thing. The Jedi Master drew in a deep breath; opening himself to the force. Tionne was learning quickly - he would need to adapt. Perhaps he had underestimated her?

Without another word, Cyril launched himself into the air. His momentary flight was assisted via the force, and he came down hard a moment later, leg outstretched to catch Tionne on the shoulder.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Tionne's heart skipped when Grayson spat out blood. She didn't want to hurt him, inflict him pain, yet it was the process of learning. A part of her wanted to stop and wipe off the blood, then rub some snow into the wound, merely to decrease the bleeding. Tionne had no idea she could kick hard enough to deal some serious damage; momentum was not only increased by mass, but also velocity. Where she lacked in strength, the redhead would make up in agility. If Thanewulf couldn't be the mightiest, she could be the fastest.

"I'm sorry." she apologized internally, speaking out through the Force. The Hapan was more of a fast learner than actually talented in martial arts. She quickly memorized the technique, which turned out to be more mental than she had expected. Everything she needed to do was to read off the opponent and exploit his weaknesses. Grayson, on one hand, didn't have any or at least it appeared so. So, she had to create some. For instance, have the Jedi Master underestimate her.

When his leg came flying in a parabolic trajectory like a projectile, she opened up her arms and entrenched herself with feet sinking into the soil, her body now at an angle with respect to Cyril's foot. His potent blow then landed right at the end of her collar bone, cracking the socket that kept her shoulder in place. Tionne quiescently squealed in pain, the sensation of extreme ache striking the base of her skull. She instinctively grabbed his foot that was now firmly implanted into her shoulder and twisted it to the side, aiming to stretch his ligaments. Tionne stumbled back, almost losing her balance, but remained on her feet due to sheer power of her will. A large bruise appeared between her shoulder, collar bone and chest, otherwise alabaster skin quickly turning dark purple as a sure sign of fracture and imminent internal bleeding. Nonetheless, the Hapan lifted her arms in the air, setting her forearms in defensive position. Simply to hold such a position caused devastating pain, but Tionne wasn't ready to surrender.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Her words might have reached him in some form or fashion, but he gave her no reply. There was no room for apologies on the battlefield, and there would be none here. His gaze fell to the bruise just moments before she twisted the ankle. He'd caused her sufficient damage; enough to call the contest to and end. He would not do so. Tionne was a Jedi Knight, fallen from grace, but quite capable. If she felt she could continue fighting, then he would not deny her.

The twist was unexpected. She'd sacrificed her shoulder to disable his leg. While she succeeded in some way, and Cyril's cry of pain punctuated that success, he would not be beaten by such a move. He landed awkwardly on his good foot, his weight balanced on his left rather than the right. His movement was going to be severely hampered, but Tionne's loss of an arm could prove far more costly. He would capitalize on that.

"Sacrifice? Good. You need to be ready to lose something if you want to achieve victory," he slowly moved toward her, "But you have to weigh the costs. There are some things you just can't afford to lose."

He paused, eyeing her stance. Perhaps...

"That's enough. I doubt I'll be able to fix anything further."

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"Biology." Tionne retorted through her teeth, hand pressing against her shoulder. Without a doubt, some tendons were ripped as the shoulder was dislocated from its socket, causing tears in tender tissue. It took immense will to keep her arms in a defensive position, her forearms facing him. If the fight would continue, Grayson could deal irrepairable damage. On the other hand, if she gave up now, he could interpret it as lack of determination. So, Thanewulf had to make a hard choice; have Cyril think she is a quitter, or outright insane.

Before she could even begin thinking of further course of action, Tionne began coughing, her lungs eager to expunge blood that rose through her esophagus, threatening to choke her. He must have cracked one of the lower ribs when he punched her in the stomach with full force. The Hapan then fell to her knees, spitting out blood into the snow. Her body arched forwards, but her hands still remained in defensive position. Her breathing became heavy as she struggled to draw in air, but the pain in her diaphragm prevented her to suck in a lungful of oxygen.

She was broken much sooner than Cyril probably anticipated; her physique was not built to withstand blows of such magnitude. If she wanted to survive, Tionne would have to become quicker, faster than Grayson could see. Yet there she was, kneeling infront of him, defeated. The Jedi woman then looked up, two trails of blood trailing down her chin.
"No cost is too great for the destruction of the Sith." she uttered, slate eyes locked with Cyril's inquisitive gaze.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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At least she understood that much. So long as Cyril could instill the right mentality within her, she would thrive. It only requires time, and perhaps a bit of logical reasoning. She understood that the Sith needed to be eradicated from every corner of the galaxy, and that was a start. He would need to be careful not to let her zeal slip into something darker.

"I'm glad you understand. As much as I've come to enjoy serving our dark overlords, I think we can both agree that their time is coming to an end." Cyril mused as he limped toward her. Her shoulder would need some work, and the bleeding was going to be an issue all its own.

"Can you walk to the couch alright?" He asked quietly, concern wavering on the fringe of his words, "I'll need to carry you otherwise. I need to work quickly to reverse the damages."

He lofted a brow; appraising her wounds. She was in far worse shape than he, though he'd come to expect that of the first few sessions.

[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

No, Tionne would not let him carry her into the cabin. She was too prideful to allow that. Not a damsel in distress, but a fighter, on par with the infamous Grayson himself. He would not touch her, apart from contact needed to heal the damage he had inflicted. The thought of having a man so near again terrified her. Cyril could've been a thousand times a Jedi, but she could not bring herself to trust him, in a manner how a woman trusted a man. Her fear was irrational.

With a loud grunt, she pushed herself off the ground to stand at full height. Her hand instinctively pressed against her shoulder as pain branched out through the entirety of her torso. In all truth, Tionne could barely move, but made a few steps in the general direction of the house. When Thanewulf discovered she could walk, she swiftly moved across the snow towards the entrance door, not wanting to risk him changing his mind and lifting her up to carry her.

"I am fine." she said quietly upon knocking the door open with her other shoulder. What a blatant lie that was. Her muscles had begun to cool and the pain intensified.
She slumped on the couch like a rag doll, her entire body squirming from immense pain.
"I will be fine, just let me rest here a bit..."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Right then.

Tionne refused his help, as he had expected. The woman was more than a little bit stubborn. In truth, he probably couldn't have carried her anyway. His ankle was causing him too much pain; he might have fallen. Of course he wasn't going to voice such. To complain would lower his standing in their relationship - he was the teacher. He could not let himself complain about a glorified sprained ankle.

"It's not wise to lie to me, Tionne." He murmured as he settled down alongside the couch. The healing process did not take particularly long, but she would have to suffer him for a time. He could see the fear in her eyes - feel it within the force. It was not difficult to surmise why. Such was her own issue. He was not here to pry.

"It won't hurt, but it will be uncomfortable. You'll have to endure it."

A gentle hand was set against the brushing on her collarbone. He closed his eyes. Internal bleeding? Not good. Drawing in a deep breath, Cyril immersed himself within the ethereal realm of the force. Skin gave way to muscle, muscle to bone, and bone to the very marrow within. His attentions shifted to the dead tissue and the leaking of blood within. With quiet assurance, he encouraged the few cells that still lived to multiply at a rapid pace. Those that were dead were crushed.

The process was a slow one, but overtime the shattered bone within would begin to reform, as well as the dead tissue and punctured skin.

"Been awhile since I've needed to do this," he mumbled, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow, "Always tiring."



[member="Tionne Thanewulf"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

When Cyril's hand was planted against her collar bone, images flashed before her eyes. Of Mythos, the lair of the Sith, and months she spent in captivity on Atrisia. The very same spot Grayson was now healing was first touched by the Sith Lord, his fingertips trailing alongside innocent flesh he would soon claim. In a way, it was Mythos who had broken Tionne, not Cyril, spoiling her for the rest of her kind. He aimed to brand her as his, like a knight brands a mare he enjoys mounting. Yet he failed. Mythos could have her body, but her soul? No. In that regard, Thanewulf never betrayed the Jedi.

Tionne inhaled deeply when a peculiar sensation permeated her body, the process of healing through the Force something she had never experienced before. Her pupils widened as a bond formed between them, where Grayson was on the giving and Tionne on the receiving end. A strange kind of intimacy was exchanged, where he learned of her faults, albeit intuitively, if not cognitively. She placed a hand atop of his and pressed his palm firmly into her collar bone. Her fingers dug into the veins of the back of his hand, gripping like there is no tomorrow. In a way, she was experiencing a minor sensory overload.

"I'd never lie to you, Master Grayson." the redhead voiced, for the first time using his proper title, her tone laced with respect - "Never."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]