https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYuXG0C2tsk
I've been having these weird thoughts lately...
Like, is any of this for real... or not?
“Keep the blade steady.”
The large hands of the Mon Calamari weapon master seemed virtually massive in contrast to the youngling’s, as the venerable instructor steadied the youth’s grip on the training shoto. From out of the corner of his eye, the young Nautolan boy caught a glimpse of a girl executing a number of Soresu orbits in perfect harmony. Distracted, Zak’s jaw dropped open slightly as he watched the Pantoran youngling neatly counter shots from the two hovering training droids that were picking away at her defense.
That was before a Mon Cal elbow poked him in the side of his head. “Focus, youngling,” the weapon master chided the boy, pushing on the child’s lower back to straighten his posture slightly. “You have opponents of your own.”
As the instructor took a step back, the young amphibian looked up at the small, spherical droid which hovered just a meter away in the air. Swallowing slightly, the youngling tried to focus his thoughts there. He could feel the Force moving between him and the droid. He could feel the other younglings in the room, the instructors moving through the students...
“It is important to know your surroundings, but not at the expense of what is in front of you,” the Mon Cal weapon master said, breaking through the youngling’s concentration. “Now show me the opening stance,” the instructor directed, crossing his arms across his chest.
Drawing in a large breath, the boy straightened his body as he brought the lightsaber upright to the center of his body, then elevated it overhead as he took a step back, holding the blade parallel to the ground as he swung his body so that it was positioned on a ninety-degree axis from the droid’s line of fire. As he planted the foot behind him and settled into the stance, the youngling slowly let out the breath that he’d been holding.
“Good,” the instructor commented, reaching into a pouch on his belt and producing a second training droid, which hovered through the air about a meter behind the first droid. “Now, begin.”
Large black orbs fluttered open.
He woke on the cold durasteel floor. He was inside a tank, like a specimen captive within an aquarium. When the Anselmi had discovered this place, the tank had been flooded. The young Nautolan suspended in an infusion of kolto fluid. The boy's first memory was of when they'd drained the tank. The Anselmi had been asking him questions about what this place was, why he was here, or even who he was.
He didn't have any answers for them.
Except his name. He knew his name. Or, thought he did. It was Zak. Or, at least, that was the name embroidered inside of
the clothes that he wore. It was strange, but he was positive that the clothes were his, but he couldn't explain why. They were
familiar. In the same way that the dream had been familiar.
Had it been a dream? Just a fickle whim of imagination? It seemed so
real. Was it a memory? The half-remembered echoes of something, somewhere, that he ought to recall. Instead, it slipped through his fingers. Tenuous. Elusive. Each second awake another in which he found himself unable to recall what he'd seen or where he'd been in the dream.
Contested Territory | Glee Anselm
The Anselmi were angry.
Not, like, at any one thing. They just seemed like they were just angry. Like, angry all the time. And, at what, was something more than Zak was able to understand.
Zak wasn't certain, but he thought this place might have been a hospital of some kind. Which didn't explain why he'd be in a hospital, but Zak really didn't have the slightest idea why he was there. He felt like he should know. He just...
didn't.
At times, it was on the tip of his tongue. In those fleeting, fickle moments, the boy could see the face of a dark haired woman. She was a
princess. Or... at least, he
thought she was a princess. He really was kind of vague on those details. He just knew her face. It was very kind. He didn't know who she was, except... he thought that he did. Or he was supposed to. Like, maybe she was someone he was fated to meet.
...or, someone he'd met before?
He couldn't be certain, except for the fact that the Anselmi frightened him. They seemed eager to talk about weapons. Like they wanted to
hurt people.
Zak didn't like the thought of that.
