Private Ventilation

[Cerys Dyn]

He was so annoying. So, utterly and completely annoying. Nevermind the complete contradiction in terms that was a 'married Jedi'. Brandyn Sal-Soren was just the most disorganised, unstructured instructor she had ever known. She had had some bad teachers in her 'wilderness years' since her master died, but none had been so laissez faire as Brandyn 'just learn at your own pace' Sal-Soren.

Well. She would show him what her pace looked like. And so, she had been hitting the books and the training courses almost constantly. She made sure to get six or seven hours sleep. But the rest of the time, outside of personal care, was spent doing everything she could to proceed further towards her Knighthood. If Brandyn wasn't going to take her training seriously, then she certainly would.

"Again."

The droid obeyed and reset its stance. From each of its four hands it emitted a holographic projection of a target area. The droid would rotate and thrust, or retract, giving Cerys different hit zones to target.

She spun into action. Her longer blade clipped the top edge of the second target zone. She knew immediately that would be a hard thing to come back from score wise. So, she reset.

"Again."

This time she reacted properly, not scoring a perfect strike but near enough that it kept her in the hunt for that allusive top score. She spun, back gripped shoto slicing its tip down the length of a target zone scoring a perfect hit, before her longer blade sliced through two more, giving a perfect score, and one at the lower end. She had not meant to hit that last target area, instead she had planned to get it on the next swing.

"Again!" She said, resetting the scenario.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn drifted through the temple corridors, the rhythmic hum of the Force a low thrum beneath his feet. He wasn't searching for anything in particular, simply letting the flow of the Force guide his steps. The usual cheerful energy of the training halls washed over him as he passed, the sharp clang of lightsabers and the enthusiastic shouts of Padawans a familiar soundtrack of his time here. But one room stood out. A palpable tension hung in the air, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere elsewhere.

Peeking inside, he saw Cerys, the Torgrutan whose outspoken criticism of the Order's structure had only recently faded from the temple's gossip mill. She was locked in a furious duel with a training droid, her movements precise yet frantic, each missed strike fueling her obvious frustration. The droid, with its four arms projecting holographic target zones, whirred and reset with each command of "Again!" from Cerys.

Lorn, intrigued, stepped into the room, careful to maintain a respectful distance from both Cerys and the droid. He activated his own training droid, a smaller, more agile model, and selected a bo staff from the rack, his movements slow and deliberate as he began a meditative practice form. He observed Cerys for a few moments, the intensity of her focus almost tangible. He finally couldn't resist.

"Why are you so angry?" he asked, his voice calm and even, a counterpoint to the storm raging within the training room. The question hung in the air, simple and direct, leaving the answer entirely to Cerys. His gaze remained on Cerys, a silent question hanging in the air too - If you don't approve of the Order, why are you still here?

 

[Cerys Dyn]

She ignored Lorn for a time. But as the tenth attempt at the routine her eyes started to glance at the 'intruder' in this free and open space. He was a convenient something to blame. Surely she was just getting distracted now. That is why she was not accomplishing her goal.

"I am not angry," she said, huffing and puffing.

She looked at the droid. "Again."

The droid reset and she went into the routine again. There was a degree of randomness to the settings, but only minor changes. It was enough to trip her up today though, and it was frustrating her even more.

This was her best run yet though. She felt her blades flowing through the air like they were nothing but the wind themselves. And then, she missed one, by a hair. The holoprojecter turned red and the droid buzzed.

"Damn it!" She spat.

The droid had taken up a posture of readiness, having run the whole routine. "Disable training protocol. Return to charging port," she muttered.

Her eyes flicked towards Lorn again. He was still there. "I am not angry," she said, angrily.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn's slow, deliberate training movements ceased. Cerys's frustrated outbursts, punctuated by the whirring and buzzing of the droid, had finally broken through his meditative focus.

She's not angry? he mused, watching her. If it walked like a Porg and squawked like a Porg, then it was a Porg. She was angry.

He stood as she huffed and puffed, venting her rage on the innocent droid. "Right..." Lorn mumbled under his breath, the word barely audible above the sounds of Cerys's exertion.

He leaned on his bo staff, his gaze assessing her. "What has you so... not angry?" He didn't believe her for a second. The way her jaw clenched, the sharp intake of breath between each barked command to the droid – it screamed frustration, a raw, potent anger barely held in check.

He tapped the staff near her, the light click echoing in the otherwise silent training area. "If it helps, take this 'non-rage' out on me, instead of the expensive equipment." A grin played on his lips, a calculated risk. He hoped a little playful provocation might coax the tempest out of the bottle, making for a calmer – and less droid-damaging – day for the rest of the temple.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

To say that Cerys looked unimpressed was an understatement. However, she was still frustrated. She had been through so many variations on the Jedi Order trying to find the master that would complete her training. She had even tried going it on her own, to disastrous effect. And Brandyn 'sit back and watch your Padawan fail over and over again' Sal-Soren was the best that she could find?

There was an unconfessed reality to her frustration. She knew what it was, but that meant being too vulnerable. And the last time she was as vulnerable as she needed to be she lost a sister. Master El-Vana had taught her to detach and that is what she was trying to do. But wherever Cerys went, she was there.

"Never mind," she said, looking beyond Lorn to the door. She didn't really want to get into it.

But then he offered to spar, and Cerys could not stop the smirk that formed. "Deal," she said with not a moment's hesitation. Almost anything was acceptable to distract her from her headspace.

"Do you want to use one of mine?" She said, offering him the longer of her two lightsaber hilts, "I need some training with the shoto."

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn stepped forward, the offered lightsaber hilt feeling surprisingly warm in his hand. He couldn't refuse; the irony of a Knight lacking a lightsaber wasn't lost on him. It was another reminder, he hadn't made the journey to construct a new lightsaber of his own after leaving his first behind in his escape to Naboo.

His smile, though genuine in its attempt at reassurance, held a hint of playful challenge. He hoped it wouldn't be interpreted as condescending, but the situation demanded a delicate balance.

Accepting the longer hilt, he turned, pacing back a few steps to give them both space. The hum of the ignited blade was a welcome counterpoint to the simmering tension of the room. He flipped, pointing the weapon at Cerys, the familiar weight comforting in a way his bo staff couldn't match.

"Alright, Padawan Dyn…" he called out, briefly remembering what the Grandmaster of this temple had referred to her as. "Give me your best shot."

He adopted the Makashi stance, the elegant movements a deliberate choice, a controlled counterpoint to the potential storm brewing before him. A few calculated steps closer, a feint to gauge her response, and then he added, with an almost casual tone, "After though… you will clue me in on what's bothering you so much." The words were barely out before his blade sliced upwards, a swift, precise attack across her torso. He would give her no time to say no to the last bit.

There would be no gentle sparring here. Lorn knew this Padawan needed to fight, really fight, to unleash the tempest within. This wasn't about coddling, it was about channeling the rage, transforming it into something else entirely. He was ready, he could handle her storm.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Before they began, Cerys stepped back a few spaces and crouched slight with left foot forward and her shoto blade in a back hand grip. All she offered to the idea of revealing her 'bother' was the attempt at a comment. However, he took that moment to attack.

Cerys rocked back and pivoted on her back foot. As she did she spun into a duck she brought her shoto up to guide the attack over her head. The blades didn't even make contact, but she was well out of the way of his swing.

The manoeuvre, though stylish, had not left her in a good position to counterattack. Were she to attempt and attack, the longer blade could easily descend again and nip her montrals. So, she reached forth and pushed through the Force directly into Lorn's chest.

She was using too much energy. She knew it. That had been flashy, but not practical. Master El-Vana would have paused the spar immediately and demand she take it more seriously.

Cerys simply needed to be expressive.

"We have already done more with our lightsabers than my new master and I have," she said. Her tone was passive...and aggressive.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn was pleasantly surprised. He'd given Cerys no telegraph, yet she'd reacted with surprising speed and agility, though the defensive maneuver left her vulnerable. The split-second consideration to press the attack, to push her further, was overridden by her instinctive Force push.

The heavy pressure on his chest was undeniable; she was strong, unexpectedly so. He stumbled back, a grin spreading across his face. Bold.

He gave her a moment to recover, to compose herself after that expenditure of energy, before addressing her pointed comment. A new Master? This was intriguing. A passive-aggressive jab, perhaps a clue to the source of her turmoil. Maybe this was all part of a larger training plan, a deliberate strategy by her Master. Perhaps lightsaber combat wasn't an area this Master thought needed attention with Cerys.

"Who is this New Master?" Lorn asked, his voice even, devoid of any hint of malice.

He wouldn't give her time to elaborate, already reaching out with the Force, his left hand tugging her slightly closer as his body propelled forward. A swift upward slash, aimed at her torso, met the swift parry of her shoto. He recoiled instantly, aiming a quick stab; another block.

Stepping back, he resumed his Makashi stance, his blade humming softly. Defense was impressive, but now it was time to see her aggression play out.

"Every Master has a different way of teaching." he called out, his voice calm, considering. "Maybe this is their way..." He doubted it was neglect, not in this particular temple. Perhaps Cerys's Master had a method, a calculated approach to tempering her passive-aggressive tendencies.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

She lurched forward, losing her balance. His attacks were much closer to hits on this occasion as she scrambled to regain composure. The first upward strike was met with a full, firm block. Cerys stepped back while twisting her shoto around the point of contact, but her attempt to work the angle was swatted away.

"His name..."

As Lorn backed up, he stabbed forward, Cerys was able to move out of the way of the attack, bringing her blade down just in time should he press forward. Thankfully, he did not.

"...is Brandyn Sal-Soren."

She had fallen back into her preferred Soresu stance, but adjusted to a standard Jedi Ready position. Within moments, she pushed forward. Despite adopting a more Shii-cho style, the preference for Soresu was still evident. Her strikes were more probing feints and slashes. She had moved in to close quarters, attempting to mitigate the reach of the longer blade. With the third strike she spun the saber hilt to an orthodox grip, and gave the most powerful horizontal swing across his torso.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn's eyebrows rose slightly at the name Brandyn Sal-Soren. He hadn't personally met the Jedi, but the name held a certain weight in this temple. Not a bad choice of mentor, all things considered.

He'd had his own clashes with his Master in the early days – a stubborn youngling clashing with a seasoned warrior. It had been a rough start, a difficult adjustment, but eventually, an unbreakable bond had formed. Maybe this was the same path for Cerys and Brandyn.

As expected, Cerys's attack shifted. Sharp, brief slashes and feints peppered his defenses, a skillful display of close-quarters combat with only a shoto. Impressive. He wondered how she'd fare with both blades active, a thought that fueled his curiosity more than his concern.

He parried, stepped back, keeping the pressure off, but she was relentless, closing the distance, her attacks growing more confident. The third strike was a surprise – a rapid grip change, and then a powerful, horizontal swing aimed at his chest. He barely leaped back, the hiss of the blade a hair's breadth from his skin.

Lorn glanced down at his chest, the dark slash marring his newly-acquired white linen shirt. "Chit." he muttered, staring at the damage. He'd just saved enough to finally afford something nice from the Theed tailors. A rueful grin touched his lips, though it quickly faded. He looked back at Cerys, a glint of amusement in his eyes. If her blade had been only slightly longer... well, he might have had a few less chest hairs.

"You owe me a new shirt." he called out, his voice light and teasing, before launching back into the duel.

This was no longer a test, it was a proper fight, a chance to see Cerys unleash her full potential. He kept his distance this time, letting the length of his blade dictate the engagement. If she wanted another close-range attack, she'd have to earn it. A few jabs to her torso were deflected, before Lorn unleashed a long, sweeping slash aimed at her knees. The game was afoot.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

That was close.

Probably too close. She shouldn't be going so hard. "You wouldn't last five seconds against Lily Decoria ," Cerys said with a smirk. It was true. But it was also true that Cerys had improved drastically in the months since her departure from Jakku. It was also true that she was tapping into emotions that needed not have a spigot.

"It was such a nice shirt," she said with the tip of her head. It was as close to an apology as he would get.

She brought her blade back to the reverse grip, and blocked a few jabs as he pushed forward and Cerys backed up in turn. The slash towards her knees was faster than expected, and her blade only just got down in time to block it. The force of his hit, sent her back a few paces, almost tripping on her own ankle as had been a problem in the past. The fact that she didn't do so brought a grin to her face. It might seem strange to most given he seeming failure of the moment. But for her, it was a win.

Cerys did not hesitate long, instead jumping at Lorn, her blade swatting at his, while she planted her feet on his shoulders and pushed back into a flip away from him.

Combat is not just about the blade. She could hear Master El-Vana's voice in her head.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn's eyebrows rose higher. Was she attempting… banter? A genuine, non-passive-aggressive attempt at banter? It was a welcome change, something different then what he had seen. He opened his mouth to probe this unexpected development, perhaps a lighthearted riposte about her own near-trip after his strike, but her sudden, acrobatic lunge cut him short.

The impact of her feet on his shoulders was surprisingly forceful, and he found himself momentarily off-balance as she propelled herself away, executing a clean flip that landed her several feet away.

He hadn't anticipated that level of agility and ingenuity. He stumbled back, a faint smile playing on his lips. He'd been the smaller fighter in his youth, relying on such maneuvers to overcome opponents' size and strength. The memory brought a rush of nostalgia, and he was pleased to see Cerys exhibiting the same resourcefulness.

"Very good." he called out, his voice a low hum of approval, "Your new Master would be impressed."

To test her further, Lorn didn't hesitate. He expelled a forceful wave of energy towards Cerys, aiming to disrupt her balance and create an opening. Simultaneously, he launched himself into the air, his blade arcing downward in a powerful, vertical strike aimed at her.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

She was doing well. She felt good. It was great to see how much she had improved since her last serious spar with Lily Decoria . It felt invigorating. This is what she had needed. This is what she had craved.

"Very good. Your new Master would be impressed."

For some reason, that was probably the most distracting thing he could have said. She stood briefly, out of her ready stance, her brain already preparing a salvo of reasons as to why he was wrong. But he did not give her the chance.

The impact of the Force push saw her stumbling back several paces. Her back hit the wall with a sharp jolt of pain. She winced, and opened her eyes to see Lorn already on the downward portion of his jumping arc.

She lifted her blade in an unconventional and hurried approach to block his attack. But the impact of his strike sent her bouncing off the wall and tumbling onto the ground, to his left.

"Raaar!" She hurled an actual aggressive response. Fist balling and slamming into the back of Lorn's knee while taking a careless swipe with her blade.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn's grin widened as Cerys's frantic block met his blade. The satisfying clang of lightsabers echoed in the training room as her body, despite its valiant effort, was sent tumbling. He'd almost basked in the victory, the brief moment of superiority, before a sharp pain shot up his leg.

A guttural "Ah!" escaped his lips as Cerys's fist connected with the back of his knee, a surprisingly powerful blow. He stumbled forward, barely managing to leap over her wild, desperate swipe. His face slammed into the dusty floor, the impact jarring his teeth. She was no normal Padawan, she excelled far more than any other he had seen in his time. Or at least thats what he would tell himself to guard his ego since she was putting up an actual fight.

Rolling swiftly to avoid becoming a pincushion, Lorn pushed himself up to his knees, his lightsaber reigniting with a hum. A genuine laugh escaped him, a sound he hadn't heard in years. "Come on then!" he roared, the challenge echoing his own exhilaration. This wasn't some docile training exercise, this was a real fight, a dance of skill and wit. He relished the challenge, the adrenaline surging through him.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured several bo staffs from the room's far corner, the Force obeying his will with practiced ease. The staffs, whirring through the air, arced towards Cerys, a distraction to mask his true intent. As the weapons flew, Lorn launched himself forward, a blur of motion, his lightsaber arcing downward in a vicious slash aimed at her chest.

The thrill of the fight, the raw energy of the exchange, overwhelmed him. He pushed his limits, testing both himself and this Padawan. He couldn't tell if he was pushing it too far but this was invigorating. This was fun.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys scrambled to her feet, while flicking her saber about with wrist motions. Lorn dodged all the poor attempts at attack. Her form was slipping, being replaced with the same desperate style of battle that had seen her master fall on Coruscant.

It had been her fault. She had not been good enough.

The Togurtan moved to the centre of the mat in quick strafing sidesteps. But Lorn was already prepared and launched an attack on her with spinning, floating bo-staffs. Cerys turned, grabbing the first as it arced towards her shoulder, and she tossed it aside. The next she dodged, but it brought her into the path of the third which clipped on her of her montrals sending spike of pain through her head. Cerys winced...at the wrong time.

First, Lorn's saber hit her, thankfully on training setting, and then Lorn himself impacted with her. The shock of the saber jolted her into attention before the impact sent her spinning across the floor and her shoto flying from her hand. Cerys did not make a sound. Instead, she lay there. Face down on the training mat.

I will never be good enough.

I will never be able to protect the people I love...

A deep shame rose in her very core. These were wrong things to think. It was a wrong mindset to have. She was not doing this to save people for whom she cared. Instead, she should be training for the good of all she could help. Care for...all beings, not a select few more than others.

She placed on a smile. "You would make a better master than the one I have," she said, forcing a laugh.

Pushing to her knees, her shoto flew back to her grip. It did not ignite, but rather was clipped to her belt. "Thank you. I needed this."

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Shock spread across Lorn's face. It had been too quick for her. His own body was knocked to the side with a thud, the impact jarring his senses. He lay there, sprawled on the dusty mat, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd taken it too far. He'd lost himself in the thrill of the competition, the exhilarating dance of lightsabers, and forgotten the purpose of the exercise. The adrenaline crash left him paralyzed, a cold wave of guilt washing over him. He couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the silence amplifying the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

He had to say something. This wasn't a sparring match with his Master; he was the experienced one here, the teacher. He had failed.
Gathering what little courage he could muster, Lorn turned his head, his gaze falling upon Cerys lying face down on the mat. Her stillness sent a fresh wave of panic through him. What if he'd seriously injured her? How would he explain this? The weight of his potential failure pressed down on him, crushing the last vestiges of his earlier exhilaration.

With a groan, Lorn pushed himself to his feet, retrieving his lightsaber, which had fallen from his grasp during the impact. He walked over to Cerys, kneeling beside her, his movements hesitant. He had to check on her. He had to make sure she was alright. The knot of guilt tightened in his stomach.

He reached out a hand to place gently on her back; his hand trembled slightly, his breath caught in his throat. He waited, an eternity stretching between them, until she spoke, her voice a low murmur, accompanied by a forced, brittle laugh. Relief washed over him, a tidal wave of it breaking through the dam of his anxiety. She was okay.

He didn't agree with her words, her master would never have pushed her to such a point. He should have known better. He should have held back. There was no learning in such a brutal lesson. Lorn himself had much to learn about teaching. He wished his Master were there to guide him, to impart the wisdom he clearly lacked.

As Cerys pushed herself to her knees, Lorn held out her lightsaber, returning it to its rightful owner. "I shouldn't have pushed too hard," he said, his voice low, his words carefully chosen. "I know you needed this… but that's no way to learn." He rose to his feet, his own form stiff with the weight of his apology.

He offered her a hand, his gaze searching hers for any indication of lasting resentment. "I'm sorry," he said, a sigh escaping his lips. "You should be proud, though. You are exceptionally skilled. Far ahead of where I was at your age." He meant it, the words a genuine acknowledgement of her ability, a small attempt to balance the scales of his earlier transgression.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

He was so kind to her. It was something she was unaccustomed to these days. No. It was something she did not pay heed to these days. Perhaps her own ornery nature of late had laced all interactions with an overall negative tint in her memory. "It wasn't about learning," she said, unknowingly biting the corner of her lip for just a moment.

Cerys looked away, feeling an odd sensation of butterflies. Yes, butterflies. It was a strange way to describe, though not the first time she had felt said feeling. It was just something she did not allow to be more.

The Torgutan arched her back slightly, and groaned. "That last kick might require a trip to the chiropractor I meet in Theed," she said with a laugh. There was no such person. Cerys didn't socialise. Not for fun. She felt a sudden rising despair that was quickly ignored.

She looked back at Lorn, though struggled with eye contact. "You don't need to say sorry. I got what I wanted...probably what I needed," she said, hand reaching out for him to give her saber back to her. If he did, she could leave. Leaving sounded the best thing right now. Just be alone. It was better that way.

Why was she blushing at his compliment? Her face grew a darker shade of orange purely from her own annoyance at how easily she had blushed. "I have worked on my combat training a lot...since...well...since I got soundly beat by another Padawan some time ago. Mostly...mostly self taught I guess."

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Cerys Dyn

​

Lorn watched her carefully as she spoke, her words a jumble of bravado and something else he couldn't quite name. She brushed off his apology, a casual dismissal that didn't quite ring true. He saw the slight bite of her lip, the averted gaze, and the faint flush that colored her cheeks, a stark contrast to her Torgutan orange. He knew that her casual acceptance wasn't the whole story.

He nodded slowly, a genuine response to her words, as he searched for her eyes, she still avoided him. "You are very talented," he said, his voice sincere. "And that dedication is very admirable, Cerys. Self-taught or otherwise…it speaks volumes about your character, your strength."

He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "But training shouldn't come at the cost of safety. Pushing yourself hard is one thing, but pushing yourself past your limits without any guidance or support…it's not productive in the long run. You need somebody to push you, but safely. A person to trust." He couldn't help the emphasis on those words. "I should never have put you in that position."

Lorn took a small step back, giving her the space she seemed to crave. But in the back of his mind, a seed of concern had been planted. She'd said she'd gotten what she wanted, and what she needed. This couldn't have been what she wanted? He wasn't sure, and that uncertainty worried him more than anything else so far had. He hoped, desperately, that she hadn't come to the training session to be pushed so far she got hurt.

He reached out and gently placed her lightsaber back into her waiting hand, their fingers brushing briefly. "Cerys," he began, wanting to say more, to ask her if she was really okay, to understand the undercurrents of what he had just witnessed, "I..."

But she didn't stay to hear what he was going to say. Her hand closed firmly around the hilt, and within a blink she was turning away from him, her gait now purposeful, almost hurried. Before he could even form the next word, she was walking toward the exit of the training room, her back to him. He watched as she moved, the door sliding shut behind her, the silence of his unspoken words echoing in her absence.