Public Tensions and Trust

[Braze]

TAGS: Diogo Talon

Braze knelt on the polished floor of the newly refurbished training hall, dressed in black hakamas, a cropped top, and wraps binding his shins and forearms. As he leaned into a stretch, his muscles resisted before yielding.

He moved on to simple drills and blade work, methodically running through his basics. His expression was serious, his focus sharp, as if preparing himself for something far greater than the routine motions suggested. Each strike, block, and stance carried intent, and repetition of dedicated discipline.

 

[Diogo Talon]

With the holiday season behind him, it was time for Diogo to find solace in routine. Structure was too important for his daily life. It kept him grounded; he needed direction, a path to keep him on the straight and narrow. Just had to shake off the rust—and a few recently-gained pounds of holiday feast-induced body fat.

Diogo slipped quietly into the training hall. From the jump, he recognized Braze. The white hair, the graceful moves, the confident way he carried himself—that was his friend alright. They'd only hung out once, but the half-Echani boy had made enough of an impression. Shit, Diogo hadn't even consumed a drop of alcohol since the Niv Hani Fire Festival. He chalked that up to Braze's influence.

Like their first meeting, Diogo was interrupting. And like their first meeting, he stood there, arms crossed, watching with equal parts fascination and admiration.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Diogo Talon

Braze finished his set, pausing briefly as his somber jade-green gaze flicked toward the emerald-haired boy across the room. It was as if he had sensed Diogo's stare, his awareness cutting through the surrounding area with out having to look his way.

"Hello," he greeted lightly, his voice carrying an inviting warmth. A curious look played across his face, a subtle touch of intrigue laced with a friendliness as he settled his attention fully on Diogo.

Reaching for a small cloth, Braze dabbed at the faint sheen of sweat on his face and neck, his movements unhurried. Once satisfied, he dried his hands before folding the cloth neatly in his palm.

"I hope I'm not taking up too much space," he said, as though the thought genuinely concerned him. "You're welcome to join me," he added. Braze had sequestered himself to the front right most corner of the training room and seemed to be rather aware of how much space he was taking up.

​

 

[Diogo Talon]

Diogo grinned when Braze finally greeted him. "Sup, man."

"Sure, I'll join," Diogo replied, as he cracked his knuckles and stretched out his neck. Stepping across the polished floor, he approached Braze's little corner. He hated the newly renovated space, necessary as it was. Training halls were supposed to be scuffed and smelling of half-recycled sweat, not this sleek, sterile crap. "What are we doin'?"

Braze​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Diogo Talon

"What is it you feel needs the most work?" Braze asked.

"I'm working on my weaknesses through drills, sets, and velocities," he added after a pause, his tone gaining a reflective edge. "If you have nothing specific in mind, I would suggest focusing on your weakest traits. Push them to the forefront. On the battlefield, you don't want to be found lacking."

Though his words were spoken lightly, there was an unmistakable seriousness behind them. The faint marks that adorned his pale skin silently testified to his dedication. Scars trailed across his form, each a chapter in his story. His face bore small, aged marks, including a diminutive cross-shaped scar on his chin, its visibility heightened in the bright lighting of the training room. His abdomen and belly were etched with branching, lightning-like scars, mimicking the roots of a tree. The most striking of these was a single, jagged line stretching from his chest down to his abdomen, the remnants of a particularly grievous wound.

His hands told their own tale, countless fine lines peeking out from beneath his hand wraps. Discolored patches hinted at burns from battles past, their severity muted by time. All these imperfections became starkly evident in the room's unrelenting brightness, which seemed to lay him bare in more ways than one.

Moving slowly Braze strode to a rack and retrieved a weighted gi jacket. The sleeveless overpiece closed crosswise as he donned it, concealing his cropped top and obscuring some of the harsher scars that marred his torso. Despite the evidence of his trials, his skin—where unmarked—was meticulously cared for, almost unnaturally so. It was as if the attention to detail in his grooming sought to reclaim some sense of control over a body that had been through so much.

​

 

[Diogo Talon]

His eyes scanned Braze.

The white-haired boy's alabaster skin would've been perfect, if not for the scars that criss-crossed his face, abdomen, and arms. In the harsh training hall lights Diogo could make out their peculiar shapes—jagged lines and fractal patterns, each colored differently based on their origins or recovery stage. Previously, their encounter on Takodana left much to the imagination; less exposed skin and the dancing shadows of that night's firelight obscured what was laid bare now.

Braze seemed ethereal then. Diogo remembered their conversation about judging others and laughed.

"What is it you feel needs the most work?" Braze asked.

Diogo paused to think, but let Braze continue before he replied.

"I'm working on my weaknesses through drills, sets, and velocities," he added after a pause, his tone gaining a reflective edge. "If you have nothing specific in mind, I would suggest focusing on your weakest traits. Push them to the forefront. On the battlefield, you don't want to be found lacking."

"I see. And what are your weaknesses?" Diogo waited for the answer.

"If I have weaknesses," Diogo playfully smirked. "You think I would tell you them for free? Let's spar and you tell me what my weaknesses are. If you can keep up, that is." Diogo's lightsaber hilt was in his hand with a quick, subtle movement. "What do you say?"

Braze​