Walking on the Sun

[Joza Perl]

​

Enigma Prime​

And so the wheel turns…​

This was not Joza Perl’s first trip to Enigma Prime. She’d ventured to the planet before in seeking crystals, ultimately ending up with a gorgeous white-haired shaper on her arm. The Kro’var vixen was far more entrancing than the glittering crystals.

Disembarking from her ship, the Knight took the time to inhale deeply. Crisp air. Beautiful scenery. For a moment it reminded her of Voss, but that thought quickly turned sour. She couldn’t call herself a Jedi anymore, and she couldn’t return to the Sanctum capital. Not yet, anyhow. The young Zeltron had to learn to contain and control the darkness inside of her, as cliché as it sounded. It would have been easy to explain if it had started with her servitude to Briga Tiin, but it didn’t—the priestess had only exacerbated her drift into darker waters.

She wasn’t Sith. She would never be Sith, or at least that’s what Joza told herself in order to calm down and remain focused. And yet, she’d become more prone to violent outbursts within the past months. More volatile, more difficult to handle. Like a raging hormonal teenager with a lightsaber and Force powers. Then again, she wasn’t that far from her teen years…

She had better control then. Under the guiding hands of her Master and various teachers, she’d turned away from the hedonistic Zeltron lifestyle in favor of serving the light. That one night on Voss had ignited her downward spiral, being bedded by a Sith witch in the Tower of Prophecy of all places. She’d only told one other person of her shameful act, and now she couldn’t even find comfort in him if she wanted to.

Another deep inhale, and the Zeltron began to move. Her boots crunched against the ground softly as she made her way towards the underground caves from memory, slowing her pace every now and then when she wasn’t sure where she was going. Enigma Prime was a planet packed with valuable resources, the Stygium and Force crystals being her point of interest. Perhaps she could look into the other minerals as well if she had the energy.

A familiar tug in the Force caused her steps to slow to a stop, head tilting up towards the sky. Before she could reach into the Force to try and discern who the presence belonged to, her heart beat became noticeably faster.

Curious…​

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

For Sorel, Enigma Prime was — well to not side-step the pun…an enigma. So too was the reason she was here. Force Visions were becoming more and more common and obscure too. She hadn’t been led to a Holocron in a while, but there was invariably a reason the Force chose to share images with her — both in dreams and often when she was intently focused, such as Meditating, or even during training sessions. Many she’d yet to decipher precisely what the meaning of the ‘calling’ was — but she trusted the Force would show her sooner or later.

Hence the trip here. Over three days she’d seen various images, flashes of scenery and at first she wondered if it was Voss but when she checked landmarks and pieced together what she had seen, she knew it was somewhere else. And that somewhere was here. So as she heard the warning beep that told her she was about to exit the hypnotic blue swirl of a hyperspace tunnel, she disengaged the hyperdrive. Infinite lines turned into thousands of points of light and ahead of her was the planet she was sure she had been drawn to.

She had done her research en route, It was a temperate planet, like Voss and was known for its crystal caves and the beauty of its scenery. She wondered if she was here to find a specific crystal? She seemed to be gathering a collection of late and had more than she knew what to do with. But perhaps one here was special? Or maybe the Force had a different reason to bring her here?

She punched in the coordinates for the location she’d seen most often in her dream — or at least the one she hoped it was.

Once she’d landed, she took in what the planet had to offer. It wasps beautiful as expected and the clean air was a joy to breathe in. For where she was headed, she expected the air would decidedly less clean. Ahead of her were the caves she’d glimpsed in her visions and perhaps where she’d find a crystal. But it was a long way to come unless it was very special and Sorel wondered if indeed it was for something as mundane as a crystal that the Force had brought her here.

She shrugged her shoulders and picked up her pace. Whatever it was, the quicker she found whatever it was, the quicker she could solve the mystery.

The enigma.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Someone is here…!​

As the two inevitably moved closer towards each other, so did the pull of the Force increase. Given recent events, Joza dreaded what this would lead to—but her morbid curiosity spurned her on. Perhaps she should give up on the caves for now and investigate this presence—it was not hostile, as far as she could tell. But that didn’t mean that the situation couldn’t escalate. Deciding that the caves could wait, she let herself be led by the Force.

Her feet carried her towards a cliff, gaze sweeping down to note the familiar network of caves. Just small bumps above the surface, but they grew into massive, glittering caverns underground. But the crystal caverns weren’t what was noteworthy—no, she had expected those. It was the now identifiable presence in the Force. Honing in on the form of [member="Sorel Crieff"], Joza inhaled sharply. Her breath hitched in her throat despite herself, and she exhaled steadily to calm her rapid heartbeat. Gradually, she would begin to settle.

No. Not here. Not one of them.​

Joza hadn’t had contact with the Silver Sanctum since her rescue—and even then, it was very, very brief. She’d been spirited away by her lover, a Sith Knight to his home on Sanctuary to recover after refusing to take her to Voss. Since then, the Zeltron had only sunk further into the darker side of the Force, as much as she tried to deny it. She’d cursed @Darth Ax’no a thousand times over, but it would help nothing.

Gathering the Force to her, Joza crouched slightly before leaping away from the rocky face of the cliff, landing roughly 10 meters from the Jedi. She bent her knees upon touching ground, the heavy impact kicking up a ragged cloud of dust and debris that quickly settled. There was no added expenditure to her movements—attempting to intimidate was something she found sickening.

Almost as sickening as Sorel’s wholly light sided presence.

“Sorel Crieff.” There was a depth to Joza’s voice there hadn’t been before. It had been a while since the two last met during their Padawan days—time for them both to have grown. As Sorel likely knew her, Joza was loud and jovial, with bits of anxiety and brashness sprinkled in. But the obnoxious teenage Zeltron she had met on Voss was not the woman standing before her, cloaked in dark garb from head to toe. She exuded a much darker presence, as if she was teetering on the edge of the abyss, balancing her own sanity and values against the hell that had been done to her.

“What brought you here, all the way out to Enigma Prime?”

A little smile flickered to her face, devoid of congeniality but strangely genuine all the same.

“Certainly, it couldn’t be for me.”

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel continued towards the caves yet had a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. She recognised the sensation — the Force was trying to tell her something. She reached out with the Force but could not put her finger on what she should be looking out for. She was still a Padawan and although she was able to sense a disturbance, identifying what or who was often a stretch until she was closer to the source.

As the caves were before her, she was aware of cliffs to her side and expected whatever she should be wary of would be found under the ground. So she was taken by surprise when a figure landed a mere ten metres away from her. Her right hand went to her belt and fingers wrapped around the hilt of one of her sabers. But it remained attached to her belt.

As the dust cloud settled, Sorel realised who it was that had jumped down to meet her. She sensed and recognised Joza. Yet, as much as the person was familiar, they were different. Even her voice was different but above all, she was…darker.

“Joza,” Sorel replied and bowed politely. The last she’d heard the former Silver Jedi had been captured, her fate unknown to Sorel.

Sorel looked around the vicinity, slowly and deliberately. “Why here? I don’t know. The Force told me to come here. I didn't know why. Perhaps now I do, or maybe it’s just a coincidence? Although I don’t believe in such things. Can you think of a reason I should be here for you?” There was no humour in her voice. No mockery or sarcasm. It was a simple and honest question.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Green eyes flicked back and forth as she studied the young Epicanthix in front of her, eyes eventually tracking down to her belt where she kept her sabers. In all honesty, she hadn’t meant to startle Sorel or appear as a threat—but perhaps, a little part of her did. A part she tried to squash, to smother, to squeeze into the further corner of her mind. A part that would flare up at the most tense of moments, triggered by Force knows what.

“Oh?” A brow arched from beneath her hood, one not like the loose cowls worn by both Jedi and Sith. It was tighter, designed to cover her hair and chest, the flowing robes over her armor concealing every bit of pink with the exception of her face. Where Joza once took pride in standing out with her vibrant skin and hair, she’d withdrawn into the comfort of more conservative clothing. It was easier to travel this way. It kept harassment to a minimum, and whatever the flowing cloth could not keep away, the snap-hiss of a lightsaber or a blaster bolt would ensure her safety.

“What do you mean you don’t believe in coincidence?” There was a certain hardness to her voice, as if Sorel’s innocuous words had offended her. And they did, but not for their content. They were unobtrusive, carefully placed and honest—and Joza had no reason to be angry with them. But she was, simply for the fact that she had no proper place to latch her anger on to. If Sorel had spoken in a condescending manner, then Joza could justify the irritation bubbling up into her chest and the back of her throat like acidic bile.

“I don’t know. Perhaps the Force sent you here on a wild goose chase. You’re such a slave to the Force, Sorel. Working for it when it should be working for you.” She spat the words with more bitterness than she would have liked, approaching the Padawan with deliberate movements. When she covered about half the distance between the two, Joza would shift her movement to begin to circle Sorel, regardless of whether the Jedi moved or not.

What are you doing? This isn’t you!

“You haven’t changed.” Exhaling, she almost sounded sad. This wasn’t how she wanted to act, but it was difficult not to. In the back of her mind, Joza wondered if Sorel knew of her circumstance. If the Silver Sanctum even knew that she’d been ferried away from Balmorra by a Sith Knight. Oh, how they constantly fought for one reason or another. He’d slipped further in the Dark Side than she would have liked, and she was beginning to follow.


“Tell me, does your Master know that you’ve come out here on your own? Wild Space isn’t exactly the most welcoming place for a young Jedi.”

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel remained impassive. The Force regularly led her into dangerous situations — yet it always remained with her and delivered her from harm. So she trusted it implicitly. The change in Joza was confusing — perturbing in fact — but Sorel stayed true to who she was and stood still as the Zeltron came towards her.

And the voice was the same but subtly different. Sorel was not a natural empath — yet she sensed a tone that was in some way changed and she sensed in a negatively. Bitter perhaps? Angry? She had no real idea what the undercurrent was — except it concerned her. This was not the Joza she knew. Something must have happened to her. But what?

“Things tend to happen for a reason — especially when the Force is involved. So no, I don’t believe in coincidence.” There was warmth in her voice. They’d parted as friends and Sorel saw no reason to think differently — but she was cautious.

“And I don’t believe the Force would send me here for no reason. And respecting it and taking heed of it is not the same as being a slave. An old Sith referred to the Code as chains. He was wrong and I can’t believe you truly think that I’m any more of a slave to the Force than a Sith who craves the power they get from it. For only a Sith would believe the Force works for them. I am a tool, a servant. That is my role as a Jedi. I thought it was yours too.” She spoke slowly and carefully. Every word was honest and heart-felt.

She remained still as Joza circled her but kept her wits about her and the Force close. She nodded when Joza said she hadn’t changed. “But you have.” She refrained from casting an opinion on the change, “Why?” she whispered, before answering Joza’s final question. “I am a Jedi and go where the Force dictates. Wild Space may not be welcoming but I’m not afraid of anything. Are you?”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

In a way, Joza had always held a little jealousy—but no animosity—towards [member="Sorel Crieff"] for her sagely wisdom. Her trust in the Force allowed her to be guided with a presence of mind that Joza did not have. Always, the Zeltron would struggle. It seemed that if she had no problems at the moment, she would find a way to create one.

Still, the Knight listened patiently as Sorel spoke. In the past they’d talked openly about the Force and its darker side, but they’d been on good terms then. Now, well…they weren’t. At least, that’s what Joza assumed. Getting ahead of herself? Likely. Perhaps she was sabotaging this encounter already, unknowingly.

[SIZE=9pt]For only a Sith would believe the Force works for them.[/SIZE]​

​

The moment those words sunk in, she came to a stop and a thick wave of malevolent energy rolled off of Joza’s presence, aiming to bombard Sorel’s senses. A Sith. She had called her a Sith. Well, not directly. But still, the implications bit deeply into her. Joza was not foolish enough to believe that her actions were not Sith-like, but she had enough pride to deny it. Sith had captured her, tortured her, scarring her body and mind. But Sith had bedded her, and perhaps even shown her a gentle hand. But those thoughts washed away, swept up in the murky waters of her mind. A storm was raging inside her, one that the contemporary Joza may not survive.

[SIZE=9pt]That is my role as a Jedi. I thought it was yours too.[/SIZE]​

​

“Why?” She parroted, voice cracking as if the sharpness of her tone had pierced her own throat. “Because I no longer live my life being guided by something that should be harnessed by oneself. I aim to take control of my life and my destiny!” Inhaling sharply, the Zeltron slowly began to gather the Force to her, anger steady rising as she did so. Sith! Sith! She thinks I’m a Sith! I’ll show her Sith.

“The Force is a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. To bind yourself to a Code, Jedi or Sith restricts your own potential.” Her chest swelled with emotion, truly believing her words.

“The Force is neither dark nor light, Sorel! It’s the user who chooses to be good or bad!” A snarl erupted from her mouth, green eyes burning bright. “Don’t speak to me as if you’ve figured it all out! And don’t you dare look down upon me!” The words spewed forth, amplified by a steady current of rage pumping through her veins. Whether Sorel was truly looking down on her or not, Joza would not bother to figure out. Nor did she feel bad in unleashing her torrent of emotional rage upon the other woman—no, something in her said that it was completely justified.

“I am NOT A SITH!”​

A heavy shockwave of Force erupted from her mouth at her last words, drawing on her anguish. While Sorel hadn’t done anything to knowingly exacerbate the situation, she’d triggered Joza’s rage by implying that her beliefs were Sith-like. And Joza, with no outlet for her anger, took it out on the Jedi in front of her. The Jedi who didn’t even have the decency—from her point of view—to be mocking or otherwise cruel. Because then Joza could justify herself, if only a little bit.

Springing forth with unnatural speed, the wiry Zeltron ran on the heels of the shockwave and drew one of her lightsabers. The blue blade sprung to life with a familiar hiss as she leaped, aiming toward Sorel’s neck with a tight strike.

Why….?!?

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel had sensed darkness but now she was almost overwhelmed by it. She wasn’t sure if Joza was controlling it or if it was guiding the Zeltron. It mattered which was around it was, but Sorel had neither the time nor the expertise to work out which way round it was.

She wanted to pull the Force to her and throw up a barrier, to protect herself — but something stopped her. It wasn’t wisdom exactly, nor was it necessarily the Force guiding her. It was simply a feeling she had and she felt obliged to follow her gut on this one. To defend herself, even with a simple barrier, might provoke Joza.

So she remained impassive, calm and kept her face as blank as possible. She listened to Joza and wanted to stop her, to throw her arms around her and tell her to pause and listen. But she knew that being lectured was the last thing Joza needed, especially from a Padawan.

Sorel kept eye contact with Joza, looking to show neither fear nor animosity. And she bit her lip time and time again — each time harder than the one before. Joss was a volcano ready to erupt and the heat she was generating was having an effect on Sorel.

The denial that she was a Sith was possibly what pushed Sorel over the edge. She could contain her frustration no longer. Which was lucky for the Epicanthix as she pulled the Force to her just as Joza leaped at her. Her natural reaction was the one she went with. Although it would have been easy to have pulled her own saber from her belt, instead she leaped backwards, performing a clumsy somersault and landing heavily some three metres away from Joza. A stabbing pain in her ankle told her she’d done some damage, but she had no time to feel sorry for herself.

“Joza, no!” she said, fighting the urge to shout. “You’re my friend.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza hissed as her blade cut through the air, not bothering to break her landing with a tuck or a roll. Instead she slammed both feet into the ground, Force pumping through her legs and feet and eventually into the ground to produce another shockwave. “Don’t you lie to me, Sorel! It’s very unbecoming of a Jedi.” Her voice rumbled as the earth shuddered beneath her.

A low, almost feral growl issued from the back of her throat as the Zeltron lurched forward once more, intent on powering through any potential defense Sorel would throw at her. If she’d managed to get close enough, she would aim a series of shallow jabs at the Padawan. One at the tendon of her right wrist, aimed sideways so as to only sever what as needed, but she would pivot on her foot to try and work her way around her unwilling. Next she targeted where she assumed her pelvic tendon was, intending to shave the ligaments there in order to cripple Sorel. As angry as she was, Joza was not simply smashing her way into battle—she would remain calculating for as long as she could manage.

Even if Sorel hadn’t been looking, it would have been hard to miss the bright amber irises that stared at her with a ferocious hatred from beneath the Knight’s hood.

“They corrupted me,” A snarl, sounding somewhat pained tore from her throat. “Fight me, Sorel! Do you duty as a Jedi and cut me down, or I’ll send you back to the Force!” Caught up in feeding off of her emotional storm, Joza had yet to realize that Sorel likely didn’t know what happened to her. But it felt too satisfying, too right to be doing this. Something deep down inside of her was disgusted with her actions, but it wasn’t enough to cause her to cease them.

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel flexed her ankle as she spoke. It didn’t hurt as much as she feared but instead she felt a shooting pain n her knee. For a duellist that relied heavily on pace and flexibility this was a real handicap. Not that she wanted to fight, but deep down she felt the choice might be taken from her hands. She was a Jedi and so was a peace-keeper, not a pacifist.

As these thoughts flashed through her head, she kept a watchful eye on Joza. The blade swung at her didn’t feel like a warning, it was intended to connect. “I’m a Jedi,” she said slowly and carefully, “I don’t lie. You should know that.”

No sooner had she spoken than the Zeltron attacked again. Sorel had no option but to fight. Her ends were in front of her and the hilts snapped into her palms and instantly two golden blades were illuminated. She activated both as she’d been learning Jar’Kai and hoped the unfamiliar style would disconcert her attacker.

Unfortunately despite the advantages offered by two sabers, Jar'Kai was not without its drawbacks. It was primarily designed for attack and not defence and Sorel lacked the physical strength to block power blows, she always had to resort to parrying and rely on her pace to keep her safe. But with one weakened knee, she would find the fight a real challenge.

If there was a plus to the early exchanges, it was that Joza aimed shallow blows, that with her speed and two blades, she was able to swipe aside the precise attacks — given they lacked the one thing that she would find most difficult to deal with — power.

“Joss, listen to me, stop.” Her friend’s irises were a tell-tale sign that Sorel might be wasting her time talking, but she refused to give up hope. “It is not my duty to cut you down, you know that. To take a life is the last option. And I don’t believe you want to kill me. We’re friends. Not two fellow Jedi, but friends.”

Sorel made no offensive moves and continued to focus on parrying only. “Listen to me, you know I can only tell the truth. Corruption is not permanent, you are strong and can return to the Light — you only have to believe in yourself.”

She wanted to ask who ‘they’ were, but decided to take things slowly.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Tch.

A flare of irritation crinkled Joza’s brows as Sorel swatted away her strikes with the dual blades. Feinting a strike for Sorel’s right shoulder, the Zeltron thrust her leg out sharply with intent for her boot to connect with the other woman’s chest. Regardless, she would use any leverage afforded to push herself back, landing several meters away with a somersault. And if she missed, she’d find another way to put a bit of distance between herself and the Silver Jedi.

“Friends...” She trailed, turning the word over in her mouth as if tasting it for the first time. Her skull was pounding, likely from the rush of emotions and her own regretful actions. Grimacing, Joza rubbed at her face suddenly with her free hand, scrunching her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose as if she were in pain. A short groan resonated in her throat before her eyes opened and refocused back on Sorel. The Epicanthix would find that Joza’s eyes no longer burned brightly—they’d dulled, but still held the telling amber of corruption.

“Strong? I’m not.” Exhaling sharply through her nose, the beginnings of a sneer formed on her face before settling into mild resentment. “I’m not strong, Sorel. I never have been. I’m not strong enough to resist temptation, to resist corruption. But do you know what?” As she spoke, Joza twirled the saber in her hand, gaze focused on Sorel in the most predatory way. She was scanning the girl for perceived strengths and weaknesses—her stance, something was wrong with the way she held herself from the way she distributed her weight. An injury?

“I don’t need to resist anything. If I allow myself freedom, true freedom, then I will be sated of everything I crave. Things that were once forbidden will become boring, and will no longer have such a tight hold on me.” Her weapons. Ah, that’s right. She recalled watching Sorel practice with her saber staff on Voss. How long ago had that been? Quite a while, back when they’d both been apprentices. Which begged the question: how much stronger had she gotten?

“The Jedi are restrictive for little reason than to torture themselves.” Another idle twirl of her saber, and a few alternating sharp slashes to acclimate her wrist. Joza’s preferred form was Makashi, ironically taught to her by a Sith. Strength and speed meant little when using the dueling form, which relied heavily on skill. Perhaps I should branch out. She glanced at Sorel’s golden sabers with a curious eye.

“A touch of darkness is not so horrible. Why do you bind yourself to the light so fervently? What are you trying to protect?” Though alert, the pink Knight seemed to hold herself back from any immediate attack.

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

So far Sorel had been lucky. The attacks had been focused and lacking power. And as such she’d not had to move much to parry the strikes.

That changed as the Zeltron feinted a blow but instead kicked out at Sorel. Avoiding the well aimed boot was simple enough with her reflexes and the Force to warn her, but acting on the information was a great deal harder.

She instinctively leaped back and as she landed, the pain in her knee was excruciating. She could not hide the discomfort from her face and although the Zeltron might not know what precisely hurt her, she’d know she was injured in some way.

But perhaps her words might yet save her? “Yes friends,” Sorel echoed as Joza closed her eyes. Once she opened them, Sorel wondered if they’d dimmed in intensity. Did this mean the dark-side has less of a hold on her, or was it just wishful thinking for the Jedi?

“You are stronger than you know, but that’s not important. And resisting is not an issue either. I don’t resist because the dark-side holds no temptation for me. It allows me nothing that I can’t have as a Jedi. I am as free as anyone. I choose to be a Jedi, I’m not forced to. What could you possibly crave that the light-side cannot offer? If it’s riches or power then the life of a Jedi is not for you, but that doesn’t mean you have to use the dark-side. The two things aren’t polar opposites. Listen to me. Listen to your heart. Know it to be true. Please Joza, listen to me.”

“For I choose to protect the weak. No more and no less. To protect them from those who would take what they had for no more reason than they could. I am here to help provide balance in the galaxy. As you can too if you wish.”

Sorel was no recruitment cheerleader for the Jedi, she simply told it as she saw it and each individual had to decide what was right for them. She would simply make sure they decided based upon the facts, not urban myths.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Exhaling through clenched teeth, Joza began to circle Sorel again as she spoke. Jedi typically spoke truthfully on matters such as this, unlike Sith. Sith used whatever means they had to pull you down and under the murky tides of darkness, and for whatever reason Joza had found herself being strung along by their charming words and mannerisms.

It had all been lies, but they were more difficult to resist than she had initially anticipated. Sorel claimed that the dark side had nothing she wanted, but in the back of her mind Joza worried for the young woman. Had she actually met a Sith before? A well-trained Knight or Lord could be more dangerous and convincing than even Joza herself had anticipated. Either Sorel was naïve, or she possessed stronger will and conviction than the Zeltron had anticipated.

“Shut up.” Letting out a low hiss, Joza stopped in her tracks before flourishing her saber and point it at [member="Sorel Crieff"]. “Do you not know that you’re speaking to a Zeltron? Indulgence in life’s little vices is embedded into our ancestry. Alcohol, spice, sex, fighting--we pursue anything that releases a fething molecule of dopamine.” Now she was angry, angry at herself. Angry because she’d spent years repressing the more dominant half of her bloodline in pursuit of a more monastic lifestyle. “Maybe following the Jedi way is easy for you. But it’s torture to me. Sith can go feth themselves, but the dark side is not just a bunch of lies.”

Shooting forward, she aimed a few harsh jabs at Sorel’s torso. “It’s freedom.” A low growl escaped her throat during the attack. Freedom, indeed. Too much freedom that she was afraid of drowning.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel was in two minds. Was she facing her friend or an enemy? Joza clearly knew which aspect she posed, but Sorel did not. And the confusion in the Jedi’s mind counted heavily against her, almost as much as the pain in her knee that also limited her motion.

As Joza circled, Sorel did her best to remain calm and stood perfectly still, not turning to face the Zeltron. She was hoping for a sign that her friend was indeed just confused and ready to stand down. But she was a Jedi and therefore a realist. She had to plan for success, yes, but she also had to plan for failure. And if Joza was now a Sith? In all truth, Sorel was unsure how to plan for this eventuality, but staying alive was high on the list and turning her friend back to the light a close second.

Shutting up — as Joza suggested — was actually what Sorel had in mind. The young Zeltron was clearly unsure of her own thoughts and so the Jedi decided to allow her to work it out for herself. But the plan lasted no more than seconds as Joza aimed a few stabs at her body. Sorel was forced to parry them, making no attacking movements — merely ensuring she did not get hit herself. But every movement now made her wince as she was able to hide the pain now.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Sorel’s lack of response seemed to irritate the already exasperated Zeltron, but there was no evidence that anything the Epicanthix could have said wouldn’t have elicited the same response. Jab after angered jab flew towards Sorel, but the skillful Silver Jedi had parried them all. There was something satisfying about using Juyo—it was vicious and unforgiving, and drew upon her rage. Perhaps this was why it was such a favored saber form among Sith.

Still, Joza was largely a novice in using the Form VII. Her jabs were messy, wild and lacked the normal intense focus she had while fighting. Her normal preferred forms—Makashi and Soresu—were based heavily around defensive movements, precision and skill. But her carefully practiced manner of combat was all but forgotten in favor of something that suited her fury more.

Sorel’s winces of discomfort did not go unnoticed, and a spark of realization lit the Zeltron’s now-amber eyes as she tracked the source to her knee. Letting the last jab press against Sorel’s saber instead of pulling away quickly, Joza leaped backwards several meters and fixed her gaze on her opponent. She said nothing and made no aggressive movements, instead she would hone her attention onto Sorel’s knee with an intense, eerie stare.

Crucitorn was a technique Joza had learned under extreme circumstances. It was taught to her by Darth Ax’no, a hauntingly beautiful Sith Inquisitor who had taken a liking to the Zeltron Knight. After acquiring her though a Zygerrian slaver, the Caprine priestess had imparted several lessons unto Joza—resisting excruciating pain via the Force was one of them. Concentrating on Sorel’s knee, the pink woman intended to do what Ax’no had done to her. If she hadn’t realized what was going on and done something to circumvent it, Sorel’s knee would begin to burn with a greater intensity, shooting a blinding pain throughout her leg if left unchecked.

Even if she crumpled to the ground, Joza would not move to attack. She would remain still, standing there as if she were immobile, corrupted gaze glowing brightly.

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel rarely provoked exasperation intentionally, but she’d had plenty of feedback from teachers within the Academy that she had that effect. In part it was down to her always believing she was right. She’d curbed her arrogance back to a point where it could be called confidence, but at times she walked a fine line between the two — and for many it was an annoying habit. Secondly she was so positive in her Jedi beliefs that she cam across as pious. Holier than thou at times. For those that chose to see the Code as a guideline as opposed to a set of rules, she certainly grated on them. This, unlike the first drawback, was one she was never going to address. She held her views and was not going to bend her understanding to accommodate anyone. When it came to the Code and the duties and behaviour of a Jedi, she remained steadfast.

And then at times — like this one in fact — even her silence was exasperating. It spoke volumes and to many was condescending or even confrontational. It was, in Sorel’s mind, a useful form of inverse Dun Möch. Some Sith used the silent technique to provoke Jedi, but Sorel found that using it herself was equally useful, especially with vocal dark siders.

So she parried jab after jab and kept her own counsel. Not explaining, judging, convincing or using any vocal cues to share her thoughts with Joza. She would allow the Zeltron to work this one through by herself if she could, speaking only when asked a question directly.

But the continued assault was wearing. Usually she would have used movement to allow an easier defence, avoiding blows as often as she parried them. But with her knee causing distress now, she had to use her saber almost exclusively. It meant she remained in range and she wondered how long before Joza would beat her defences.

When the Zeltron jumped back, Sorel wondered what the cause was. Whatever it was, it needed her full attention. As she stared at Joza, she was aware her friend was staring at her injured knee. She was no doubt wondering how to attack it, having identified it as her biggest current weakness.

But instead of attacking, Joza remained still — and Sorel noted her knee was hurting more and more, even thought she remained immobile. Discomfort turned to pain and this in turn became an excruciating handicap. She had no idea what Joza was doing but she knew enough to deduce it was the Force at work. And mental manipulation of the energy required concentration, Sorel knew that much.

Sorel dropped one saber hilt to the ground and pointed the hand not at Joza, but at the ground at her feet. Her Master had taught her to manipulate elements. She was still learning to work fire and air, but tangible substances like water and sand she was competent with. She was in too much pain to try anything clever — so instead she simply lifted the loose soil and stones around Joza, holding it in place and then swirling it around and around the Zeltron, not looking to cause pain, but to at least cause enough of a distraction to break concentration and make the pain ebb.

As she did so, she dropped to one knee, the agony now etched in her face, but she gave the Force all of her focus, to maintain the soil-tornado.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

A sickening burst of satisfaction swelled in Joza’s chest as she willed the pain to flare in Sorel’s leg. Her saber deactivated, confident that even if the Padawan could overcome this, she would not attack. But she would resist clipping it back onto her belt, instead keeping the hilt at the ready should she need it. Dealing with the saberstaff was aggravating enough, and there wasn’t much fun to be had trying to penetrate her defenses. This, she found, was far more entertaining.

And yet, Joza felt nauseous all the same. A part of her cried out in guilt and shame at what she was doing, but still she would not stop. She didn’t know how to stop. That, or she was too prideful to figure out a way.

The firm look on her face faltered for a moment as Sorel manipulated the loose earth around her in a whirlwind. So she dabbled in the elements as well? Interesting, and unexpected. She had to hand it to the Epicanthix, she was resourceful. Breaking her concentration for a few moments, Joza’s manipulation of Sorel’s knee pain ebbed as she grasped at the current kicked up by the soil and rocks, sending the earthen projectiles exploding outwards from around her. Whereas Sorel had taken to earth and water, Joza gravitated towards fire and air—the latter being her forte.

As the cloud of dust and debris settled, the Zeltron went right back to Sorel knee—though not as intense as she had initially, feeling a sharp sting of regret at seeing her friend’s face twist in agony. “Resist it,” Her words were soft but held an overtone of encouraging insistence. “Gather the Force to you knee. Focus on the muscles, the nerves. You can reduce the pain, Sorel. I know you can.”

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The respite was temporary but none the less welcome. For a short time the pain ebbed. It didn’t disappear, it was hurting before Joza did whatever she did to it. But the reaction in pain was enough for Sorel to be able to catch her breath. But she was tired and didn’t know how much longer he could maintain a defence against the Zeltron.

And then it started again. She wasn’t sure if she was hardened to the pain or beyond being hurt so much, but it was less intense now.

And as she tried to block out the pain, she wasn’t sure how to fight the Zeltron — and was surprised to hear her voice. Was this some trick? Some plan to turn her?

Yet the voice and the sentiment were so enticing. Yet that’s how the Sith operated wasn’t it?

So Sorel did what she always did. She removed the words from the sentiment and the person delivering them. Taken at face value, the advice made as much sense as if her Master had given it. Which meant Sorel pulled the Force to her and allowed it to flow through her body before focusing her mind on her knee, hoping the Force would follow her lead. She had been taught Healing — but had never used it on herself, and certainly not to block out pain.

But she reasoned the technique was the same and — perhaps foolishly — she gave the pain in her knee total focus, opening herself up to an attack — and found the pain was indeed rescinding.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza observed the indecision within the Force, and her teeth ground together. She’d had her doubts during the entire encounter, struggling with what felt good and what was right. It felt admittedly nice to pass out a little bit of her own pain, but now it started to make her nauseous. There were many people the Zeltron wanted to hurt—those who’d tortured her, caused her pain, taken advantage of her. Sorel was none of those, and would likely never be.

She stared at the Silver Jedi as she gathered the Force to her injured limb, smothering the pain to a manageable degree. Good. She was doing it. She was using Crucitorn in an honorable manner. It was a strange lesson for her to try and impart, but she understood Sorel’s wariness. Sith were tricky.

Hopefully before the other Force user could react, a hand withdrew into her robes and retrieved a flashbang. Removing the pin, she aimed it to land roughly between the two women before using a gust of wind to blow herself back. The stun grenade would explode with a loud boom and a flash of blinding light, but no shrapnel or anything otherwise physically harmful would be released. By the time Sorel would regain her sight if she’d remained within range, Joza would have since retreated into the forest. She’d begun to perspire profusely, her heart jackhammering in her chest as she ran. She would leave no apology or scar in her wake, but a deep wave of regret would wash across their makeshift battlefield.

[member="Sorel Crieff"]

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel was open to another attack — but none came. Perhaps she was a little naive, or too trusting? Or maybe she was simply a good judge of character — or her friend? Whatever the reason, by luck or judgement, the pain in her knee continued to subside and Joza chose not to follow up with a killing blow.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a blinding light. Sorel’s focus switched from her knee as she threw up a Force Barrier, but she felt nothing other than air and sound waves hit her shield. It wasn’t a grenade as she first surmised, but little more than a loud and disorienting audio and visual disorientating device. The art used in crowd control.

When she had full use of her senses once more and the smoke had cleared, Joza had gone.

Sorel felt sad and, to a degree, a failure. She believed she had let a friend down. One in great need. Perhaps she’d been too much of a Jedi and not enough of a friend? But she knew she could not turn the clock back. What was done was done. All she hoped was that Joza forgave her. For not trying harder to convince her to return to the Light. A single tear rolled down Sorel’s cheek and it dried before she finally rose from the ground and returned to her ship and to medical attention.