Session export: Envoy Lightsaber Training 1

Lilina had learned a lot from sparring with Zentru'la and Masakado, one a man-mountain covered in lightsaber resistant armour and the other a cyborg assassin with inhuman power. But as exceptional as they were in their own area, neither were suitable to guide Lilina on lightsaber technique. This was an excellent opportunity to further her training and learn from fellow lightsaber users.

Stars passed in a blur.

A blur, like so much else.

In the pilot’s seat, Melissa held the yoke in a death grip, and he knew her slight hands would be white-knuckled, barely noticeable on her pale skin. He couldn’t see it now.

Couldn’t see the expression on her face, but he heard the smile in Bril’s as the Zabrak leaned over the back of the seat, encouraging and giving pointers as they took turns. Not a word about how to fly left him without, “Minnie showed me,” or “Minmin does this amazing thing, like…”.

It was good to see them together again, in higher spirits, excited about something. Not sitting vigil in cold medwing rooms. Not waiting for someone they loved to wake up. Not blood-soaked from the battlefield.

They were just kids. Not really, not at all, they’d lived through so much, both of them, they’d done so much, they are so strong, but also…also just…

Blurs thickened. He lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, wishing pressing harder actually cleared them. That if he wiped hard enough, the blurriness would go away.

But it never did.

And here they were going into– what, more combat training? So they could defend themselves? Others? So they could fight better? They shouldn’t have had to fight at all. And he barely knew who the kriff this Ricmore was claiming expertise, but any Brotherhood-wide invitation was trouble. Anyone could be there. At least Erinyes he trusted. That woman had been great to work with, really seemed like she’d care about people, had been a real hope to him as a fellow Proconsul and really building ties with Taldryan…

And then, well. Now they had Anderson of all people. And Cassandra had hired him, so clearly her judgement was questionable, even if he’d seen first hand that she was willing to die for her citizens. And then Tir'vera.

The Force only knew what Taldryan would do under them. Zuza was working well with Cassandra but–

But it wasn’t his business now, was it? He had to stop thinking about these things.

Ruka sighed at himself, then got up, putting his glasses back on. He called over to his apprentices and daughter, pasting on a smile that wasn’t not real, for all their excitement and pride.

Even if this journey had been…bumpy. He’d only had to save them from like, two collisions. They were getting better.

“Alright, ay, scootch over. We’re about there so I gotta dock us.” He gripped Bril’s shoulder, then touched Mela’s. “Good job, ay.”

They were quick to disembark, both eager. Ruka followed with buzzing anxiety swallowed down, remembering at the last moment to pull his glasses off. Inhaling the Force was as easy as a breath, and then his vision sharpened again while the kids looked around.

“Over there.” The Mirialan pointed. “I actually tested this place the first time, ay, Tyris ran it, me and the Fist. It’ll feel mostly real in that sim room. The suits kinda pinch though…” He’d made sure to wear tighter underwear this time just to avoid the bunching. “You guys ready, ay?” <@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643>

Sinya’ni stood at the top of the ramp as it lowered. She hadn’t been to a training session since…well…since Aleister. That was not a pleasant memory. She steeled herself for the belittling and unsettling beratement that was surely eminent as she walked confidently to the training area. “This will be fun, they said. This will improve your skills, they said. Well, we’ll see about that,” she murmured to herself. “I can be miserable anywhere, why not learn a thing or two anyway? “

Fresh out of the shuttle, the black-clad woman did some necessary stretching. The cramped commute was one of the reasons she had hesitated, and she did not have a recollection of meeting Hector Von Ricmore in person before. Aphotis passed by the lockers without a single thought—all she needed was already attached to her slick, latex, alchemical second skin, her waist belt, and backpack, and very likely to be used.

In a way, it seemed like a challenge, to be invited to a training facility like this. Tir'eivra ran it by enough times to decide whether it would be worthy of her time. Despite the doubts, it would not be like her to refuse a chance to go through a set of challenges to further her knowledge with the lightwhip or lightsaber—especially if she could give others a lesson while doing so.

She thought it was refreshing that, for once, she did not have to go through security steps. Aphotis patted the circular hilt of her lightwhip, Besotted, very much looking forward to a core, arms, chest, and shoulder workout. To her satisfaction, her heavily weighted platforms did not seem to bend the hexagonal metal tiles. Her bladed heels clanged and clicked against the well-built flooring, making her wonder how the simulation was going to conjure up a different illusion.

That lack of certainty dissipated upon seeing General Erinyes, making it instantly feel worthwhile being here. The Zeltron had not long ago given her a tour around Kasiya, the places that mattered were now known to her, and for this, Alaisy was thankful. It had been a welcome reprieve from the Sturm und Drang that was the Brotherhood. Ever since, she had made full use of the Asog Temple, even having released several monstrosities within the animal pens. The scholars there were always eager to share notes with the Sith, without judgment about their unorthodoxy. .

A loud hiss came from her domed facemask once her electric-blue eyes noticed both of the young, male Zabrak here. Her fist closed, almost to the point of cutting herself with her long vibronails. She wanted, no needed, to sink her claws into something. Her tail rose, whipping from side to side. There was a heat that built up in her cheeks and her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum.

What an opportunity this could be.

There was no storm interrupting Aphotis now. No element of surprise was left. It was perfectly laid out for her here. The rest of the room, with everyone in it, blurred out—even that annoying, smug AI voice she kept hearing, this C3D3.

Her rational mind siphoned all of her vexation into a single sharp tip so that she could unleash it at just the right moment. It presented itself as a satisfying burning sensation in the back of her skull, but it kept her calm enough for her peripheral vision to return. This was not a trial anymore, the Force brought them all together. The perfect way to construct that knife-edge tension. .

Right, a training facility. Non-lethal, no finality. Time to unleash.

A smirk was hidden behind the blackened visor as a chiliad of horrid visions sent rivers of inspiration into her Garden of Trepidations. She wondered if the dark side spoke to her in this moment, showing her the possibility to inflict permanent trauma with mental violence now that the physical torment was dulled out. After all, she gained a headstart on Draca not long ago.

<@837236610684813342> <@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357> ^

“Why would I waste my breath with a group of sycophants that will inevitably refuse to listen to anything I say? No, I will not go. You may attend if you wish, Draca, but I refuse to waste my time.”

Just like that, Anders had refused to come. It was a shame, really. The Sith, the High Inquisitor, the Chiss, whatever you wanted to call him had taught Draca everything he knew about lightsaber forms. Everything from the basic cadences all prospective students of the weapon start with all the way down to the most intricate techniques of the most difficult of fighting styles. Their strengths and weaknesses, how to spot and adapt to them etc etc.

The young Jedi Zabrak had hoped, somehow, that this would be a way to start building bridges between the people in his life. Maybe they would never be friends, Force forbid, no, even Draca in his infinite optimism couldn’t expect that, but at the very least amicable. That wasn’t a lot to ask, right?

Alas, it was not meant to be. At least for now. Draca had been put on edge by a surge of darkness through the Force so familiar, yet so off-putting, that it sent his mind reeling back to the blizzard on Port Kasiya. Indeed, there she was in all her dark, twisted, abominable glory. Anders found her intriguing, who even knew why? With Bril here too, it was like a trifecta of the Force had converged in one location. Light, Dark, and the Balance in-between conjuring a storm between them waiting to erupt.

‘There is victory, even in defeat.’

He remembered wise words from the Chiss. What some might have considered a defeat, he saw as saving the lives of the people in that mansion.

Still, he’d dealt with one Sith that night.

Snapping himself from his overconfident thoughts, he took note of everyone in the room. There was Hector, of course, a man He’d only met once and had a certain… what was the word… competition with Anders. Then there was… Lilina? Lelina? Lenina? The Vornskr’s Jedi healer. A jedi, mich like himself. He’d have to get acquainted. Then, there was the Twi'lek whom he seldom recognised, unfortunately. Anders always said the unknown was dangerous.

Then, of course, there was Ruka, and of course, Melissa. He wanted to go over and say hello, but decided it would be rude to interrupt their family time.

So, instead, he waited, arms folded across his chest in his own little corner of the room.

<@188018248241905664> <@361376035444490240> <@339758862406254592> <@1056685516441006091> <@244244163002892288> <@432543120635461643>

“Ready as always, master,” answered Bril, who palmed the pommel of his recently earned weapon – the Glory of Galeres – as they walked. Vibrant umber robes and the black cloak he wore atop them rolled with the artificial breeze that swept through Arx Minor. “Glad to have you joining us, Mel. It’s been too long. Nice flying, too! You’ll be better than me in no time.”

Though, that wasn’t really saying much. For all his talents, the young Zabrak couldn’t count piloting among them. What few lessons had stuck left him with the ability to drive his speeder bike decently, but not much else.

Once they stepped off the ship, Bril peeled away some of the layers that entombed his Force awareness, opening himself to the feeling of all those present that shone like motes of flame within a veil of darkness. Most were unfamiliar to him, but he did recognize Draca and … that signature; the same malefic presence he’d encountered on Kasiya months prior. That she and Draca were present seemed like some kind of cruel, cosmic joke that he’d missed the punchline to. Although he didn’t want to potentially endanger his family by fighting, he figured that the Sith would eventually try something after they’d crossed paths again. After all, she’d attacked him without provocation before, and now she had a reason to pursue revenge against him.

Just great.

<@244244163002892288> <@432543120635461643> <@188018248241905664> <@837236610684813342>

Inspecting the gathered throng, Ruka frowned deeply when he saw the very shiny Sith he’d been worrying about. It was as if he’d willed her into existence, Ancestors and the Force having seen fit to repay his negative thoughts. He spotted Draca too, and no Anderson in sight. That was both good and bad. Anywhere without Anderson was better; but at least if anything happened, the franger would surely protect his son.

Reaching out, he gripped Bril’s shoulder, catching Melissa’s hand too, and spoke lowly but firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Listen, ay. You see that woman there, in the suit? Do not fight her, do not go anywhere alone with her, and if you feel anything in your mind, you shout it out right away. Okay? She dangerous.” His gaze went to Bril, then to Melissa. “I need you to listen to me here. Mela, grab Draca and have him join us. He’s part of the group, and he needs to be on guard too.”

<@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

Bril turned his head to regard his master with a solemn, knowing look.

“I’ve already fought her, master,” he informed him, “She’s the one who I told you about. Who attacked me on Kasiya, during the blizzard. I was winning before Draca intervened. If it comes down to that again, I don’t expect the results to be any different.”

Melissa had already been one step off, stumbling slightly back at Ruka’s pull and freezing in place. Silver eyes followed both Rukas and Bril’s. The woman from Kaisya. Her frown deepened. The Brotherhood was a volatile place but it had never occurred to her that it’s members would turn on itself like that.

“Draca told me about her too…” she murmured, drawing her gaze off of Alaisy.

A small part of her sighed at needing to stick in a group, disappointed that a piece of the finite time she’d get to spend with Draca was disturbed, but there was little to be done. Just because the leaflet said no finality, it didn’t mean she hadn’t become hyper aware of Veli on her hip at this development.

“I’ll go get him.”

She split from the pair, making a direct path toward Draca.

“Her?” Ruka hissed, and if possible his narrow glare grew in intensity at the alchemist. He watched Melissa go carefully, and muttered to Bril, “‘Winning’ is no way to think of a fight, Bril, ay, remember that.” It was a lesson he’d repeated often now, but the Zabrak was proud and confident, always with that view from his shock boxing days, like games and glory to be won. “And don’t assume like that. We barely know what she’s capable of. Kriff knows how good or old my intel is. She helped take down a rancor once, she was involved with the caxqettes–” his voice lowered further, “now and then. She holds grudges, she did experiments…she could’ve been letting you ‘win’ just to play with you longer, or it could’ve been the blizzard. Or yes, ay, you could really be the better fighter. But don’t assume. Except anything.”

Even with Melissa walking towards him, he could barely form the smile on his lips. The past was a thing that haunted those who let it, and clearly, the Shiny Sith’s appearance had sparked some not-so-pleasant memories.

‘Live in the moment. Not in the past.’

Alaisy had done nothing to anyone here today. Well, she hadn’t done anything yet, anyways. The day was still young. At least she seemed more fixated on himself and Bril. Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Hey, Meli,” Draca forced the smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your family time.”

Bril’s eyes lingered on Melissa for a moment as she walked away. Both of them had come so far since the day they met. Neither of them seemed like the same person they were back then and, although she wasn’t the same naive woman he remembered, he still worried for her. And if the palpable unease radiating from him in the Force was any indication, Ruka felt the same.

He looked to Ruka. “I know she’s bad news, so I’ll take your advice to heart,” Bril replied. He knew that she wasn’t toying with him during that fight, that she was really trying to defeat him. But he also knew better than to let his pride get the better of him. Ruka’s advice was sound.

Melissa offered a small smile, though it was as a strained as Draca’s own. She reached out for his hand, standing close enough that being overheard wouldn’t be easy.

“We were talking about the same thing I think you’re worried about.” She began, glancing toward the scantily-clad sith but not letting her gaze linger. “You should stick with us as a group, hopefully Mr Ricmore won’t let anything happen but… well. I remember what you told me. Come on.”

The grimace of the Mirialan’s features softened, just slightly, and he nodded to his apprentice. “Good.” Another glance around. “C'mon.”

He started walking, slowly, but angled so that they were closer to Draca and Mela, ready to meet them halfway.

“We’ll say hello to General Erinyes in a minute. What do you think about the others?”

Draca carefully took his hands in hers. There was also something rather coarse about them, probably in part due to her having to use them in the wilderness on her own, but she was always warm.

“What about those two?” Draca gestured yo tbe Miraluka and Twi'lek. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave them on their own.

<@339758862406254592> <@361376035444490240>

“It’ll be good to see her again. It’s been a while. Hopefully, the restored peace to Selen will give us more time to have friends over for something that doesn’t involve combating some ancient evil.”

He lifted a hand to gesture to the Miraluka and Twi'lek that Melissa and Draca seemed to be approaching. “No one seems immediately threatening, at least. I don’t have any opinion of them or of Hector thus far. Don’t know them.”

Lightsabers!

Lightsabers lightsabers lightsabers lightsabers lightsabers!

Before Erinyes had been a diplomat, or a leader, or even a Sith, Erinyes had studied the blade. Hell, she’d been a lightfoil fencer on Obulette and Procopia before she started drinking. Lightsabers were love, lightsabers were life, and she’d had precious little time to indulge since her arrival on Arx.

Until now.

Arriving in the the training hall, the Emissary spotted a few figures she knew, and several more she didn’t. She cheerfully waved to Hector, the organiser of this whole thing, and to Ruka, who somehow seemed even more weathered and dour than when they’d last seen each other on Kasiya.

Then, she spotted a… not quite familiar, but known face: a Miralukan woman. Someone she’d come across before in Taldryan, but never actually met. Lili-something? Erinyes remembered that she tended to keep to herself. Seeing her this far from Taldryan’s capital was a little surprising.

The Emissary approached the Miraluka, waving in greeting out of habit, then feeling dumb for waving hello to a blind woman. “Lili?” She tried to play it off as a friendly nickname. “Good to see– er, meet you. I don’t think we had the chance before I left Kasiya.”

<@339758862406254592>

Seeing the wave, Ruka lifted his hand back, trying to smile. He could just imagine how bad it looked.

Since Erinyes made her way towards a Miraluka, he glanced back to Bril. “I don’t know them either. I was just curious if anything stood out to you.”

<@1056685516441006091>

Banding together like a nest of womp-rats, how adorable.

Tir'eivra crossed her arms and almost felt compelled to move in closer just to unsettle them. It was pleasing to the Sith that her presence had such an effect, saving her the effort of calling upon the Force—acknowledgment that she was doing it right. But then she connected the dots, the dark side did her bidding, or rather, she was the chaos factor that it required. To sow fear and receive. Even in defeat, there was no loss here, so long as she grew stronger from it afterward. The sweetener would be the potential for discord between them, but not at the cost of the challenge itself.

Aphotis peered at the figures she hadn’t seen before, a sad-looking Twi'lek half her size with massive eyes, and a colorful woman who struck her as Miralukan, with the stench of corrupted light about her.

Then there was Ruka Tenbriss, who seemed much more weathered than the last time when she had laid eyes upon him. He seemed to be occupied with herding the younger ones, slipping from between his fingers like superfluids. Perhaps all he needed was a few more pushes toward raw power, a few sips of life, or a reminder that being one of the dark is the most dangerous path to protect your loved ones. The stronger the pull, the faster they dissipate.

Once Tir'eivra let that thought run wild, she realized that she needed to make the temptation greater. The new faces would be the key to that destructive curiosity they would no doubt crave. Her eyes no longer focused on the Zabrak duo, but began to analyse everyone except for them.

Lilina inclined her head respectfully towards Erinyes. “Lilina Mirin, of the Vornskr Battalion.” Her voice was soft and smooth, each syllable flowing into the next like a gentle stream. “I look forward to learning from you.”

She had been a member of Taldryan for a few years before joining Zentru'la’s employment, and knew Erinyes well by reputation for her skill with the lightsaber. It was good to have the opportunity to train with such a talented lightsaber combatant. Her lightsaber hung off her belt, a double-bladed lightsaber of black and crimson with jagged protrusions, of an unmistakably Sith design juxtaposing against her traditional Jedi robes.

“What is happening?” Sinya’ni muttered to herself. A habit she picked up from spending so much time alone. The atmosphere had shifted with the arrival of the Sith. “Great, it’s like Plagueis all over again.” She sighed. “So much for this being fun.”

She surveyed the rest of the group. It seemed like most of them knew each other. And they hated…or maybe feared…the Sith? And then there was the Sith. She seemed to be channeling her hatred towards the Iridonian. “At least I’m not the target this time.”

Then there was the Miraluka who seemed to be a loaner until the red headed Zeltron joined her. “Guess I’m the odd one out again. Well…except for the Sith.” Taking a closer interest in the black clad giant, she couldn’t tell what species she was but there was something familiar about them…ah, there was some giving off Dathomir vibes. Maybe she would be an ally in this social nightmare.

Shifting his attention to the distant Sinya again, Bril gestured to her with a slight incline of his head. “Well, that one is dressed in the garb of the Nightsisters. I can sense the ichor of Dathomir on her.”

His grip on Glory’s pommel tightened while he straightened his posture.

“Ahh, so that’s where you went. How’s life with the Vornskrs treating you? You must put your medical skills to good use there.”

She glanced down and spotted the decidedly… well, evil-looking lightsaber at Lilina’s side. Erinyes quirked an eyebrow at that. Most Jedi wouldn’t be caught dead carrying a weapon like that around. There must have been quite the story behind it.

“Easy,” Ruka assured, not missing the tightening grip. “But good detail. "And them?” He nodded to Erinyes and the Miraluka.

“The Collective are an existential threat to The Force itself. General Zentru'la is doing fine work against them. And standing beside him in battle has improved my blaster deflection skills.”

Erinyes snorted with laughter. “Yeah, I bet it would.” After all, there were few better motivators for deflecting blaster bolts than the desire to not get shot. “I’m glad you’re on the field with the Vornskrs. I like Zen, but even beskar armour and that chin of his can’t protect him from everything, and he’s not getting any younger.”

Then, Erinyes gestured to Lilina’s lightsaber. “Did you get your saber from the Collective? They probably took it off a Sith they killed as a trophy or something.”

He gritted his teeth upon hearing his master’s assurance, but eventually acquiesced and peeled his eyes away from the Twi'lek woman. Focusing on Erinyes and the Miraluka now, he began to observe them as they spoke.

“Well, not much to say about the General that I didn’t know before, but the Miraluka is seemingly a Jedi. But that saber is decidedly Sith in design. Odd.”

“I don’t know them.” Melissa responded honestly, remaining beside him.

Upon hearing a distorted voice cut through the relative quiet of the facility, Bril shifted his attention to Hector. His own work with the Envoy Society made him familiar with the man’s name, but he’d never had the chance to meet him until now. Never one to pass up an opportunity to learn and improve, he was curious to see what the Kiffar had to offer. As for his question, though, Bril remained silent. With at least one enemy present, he understood that explaining what he wished to know so publicly ran the risk of exposing weaknesses in his own style. And that wouldn’t do. So, he remained silent for now.

“From a crystal ascendant controlled by The Seer in the Darkness. My Lightsaber had been taken from me, so I kept this as a replacement after Masakado killed it.”

“Makashi, Soresu, Shien, Ataru,” Aphotis answered without delay, her aristocratic voice amplified by the vocal modulator in her mask.

She did not think it was too much to ask.

“Emphasis on breaking Soresu.”

Violet eyes narrowed like coals on Alaisy.

The diminutive Twi’lek noticed the sudden scrutiny of the Zabrak. She did not like being noticed. To made her uncomfortable. ’What? is my small clothes showing?’ She asked directly into his mind. <@1056685516441006091>

Alaisy raised her claw up to her mask, and pondered about the answer. She was very familiar with Djem So and Juyo. Power, unpredictability, speed. She had fought against several who were proficient in Shien, but often they were not Soresu adherents.

“I embody Djem So, perhaps my intelligence can carry Soresu as well. The missing piece of the puzzle would be Shien, make that my secondary objective. Thank you for your answer Von Ricmore.” Aphotis made a gesture with her tail that look like a salute, or thank you.

Oh, right…the master had asked a question that she had not yet answered. “I don’t know. I just want to improve. I find that I am outmatched sometimes and I don’t like that.”

“I prefer not to be seen and to strike from the shadows. But when that doesn’t work, I fight from instinct and reflex guided by the Force.”

“Perhaps we can spar, and train Soresu together,” Aphotis focused her gaze on the small Twi'lek, her voice carrying confidence, but dialing down the volume not to sound too intimidating.

<@361376035444490240>

Alaisy attempted to shrug off the definite leering from behind her, like a spike in the back of her mind.

“Interesting.” Erinyes paused when Hector called for the attendees’ attention. Once the questions began flowing, she resumed talking, at a lower volume so as not to interrupt. “You’ll have to tell me more about that battle sometime. Have you given any thought to what you’d like to learn?”

While the instructor and the Twi'lek in Nightsister garb talked, Ruka touched Bril’s arm again and gestured them on. They pulled up next to Draca and Melissa, who looked quietly concerned by all the chatter of breaking a Soresu-user, and the Mirialan resisted the urge to either hug her or shove them all back on the ship and leave. Also the urge to interrogate Tir'ievra.

Which went out the window a little bit when the Sith focused on the Twi'lek like one of the caxqettes she’d befriended, ready to pounce.

“Doubt fighting somebody tryin’ to break the form is good for a beginner learning the basics, ay,” he was calling with poorly restrained judgement or coldness. “I’m sure Ricmore and Erinyes can teach you both what you wanna learn.”

“I did say, train Soresu. Ricmore mentioned I would have to understand Soresu first, let her decide for herself,” her voice was calm, but her tail twitched.

“The General always emphasises accurate execution of the fundamentals over learning fancy new tricks. There is wisdom in his approach. I’m not here to learn new techniques, but to practice with masters of different forms and learn from testing my skills under pressure. Besides,” Lilina turned the double bladed lightsaber over in her hands. “There aren’t many masters of double-bladed Soresu around.”

As Bril listened to the opening comments on the philosophy of saber combat, he heard an unfamiliar chime within the confines of his own mind. His mind. Memories of the last person to intrude within his most sacred domain spawned from the depths of his subconscious.

Ahh, Minnow is her name, is it?

Like a flash of lightning, the face of the ancient Anzat Sith appeared in his mind’s eye. His fists tightened, and a palpable heat drifted across the bond in the Force that he and his master shared.

His eyes narrowed on Sinya'ni again, and he sent a message back in kind.

Using telepathy without the other party’s permission is frowned upon in many circles, you know. Your attire caught my attention. Are you a Nightsister?

<@244244163002892288>

Ruka’s head turned sharply right, looking to Bril, whole body tensed, expecting– something. Some threat his senses hadn’t warned of. To see the kid stabbed, or some other horror. But he couldn’t find anything visibly threatening…

Except Bril had that look on his face most ‘users got when communicating mentally. He followed Bril’s gaze towards the Twi'lek, then back.

“Ay, Bril. Hey. What’s wrong? Need ya to breathe for me, okay? Are you okay?”

What if it wasn’t messages, but a mental attack?

“I would love to train with a fellow nightsister, but I’m not sure if Soresu is the style for me as I don’t really have a ‘root’. Mobility seems to be my only talent. But I’m willing to try it.” She glanced back at the Zabrak. ’and staring is frowned upon in many cultures yet here we are. And yes. I have trained with the nightsisters. Is that a problem?’

Everyone needed to calm down. Calm down, right now. There hadn’t been a lightsaber activated yet and already there was a war of wills, a battle waging between the resolves of several individuals involved.

Draca, for his part, knew, from what Melissa herself had told him, that she was a decent fighter. No doubt her Echani heritage had some part in it. Yet, as tensions rose, he couldn’t help taking an instinctive step forward, in front of her, to shield her both metaphorically and physically. He was fairly tall, after all.

“Perhaps Ataru?” Draca suggested. Mobility was literally the first quality of Form IV anyone ever thought of. “I’ve been told I’m fairly proficient with it. Though, I imagine it might be best if you spar first. Maybe we can all see how you prefer to move and your mindset in a fight. Then, maybe we can go from there?”

He looked to <@476595775187451913> for confirmation of his idea.

<@432543120635461643>

Seeing people wearing the traditional attire of my ancestors tends to invite stares.

He crossed his arms against his chest while watching her from afar. His tone critical, incredulous.

I asked if you were one of them, not if you trained with them. If you are, then we have no problem at all.

In the midst of the conversation, Bril missed Ruka’s comments.

<@244244163002892288>

’Depends on your definition of were…I am part of their culture, but if you think a blue tailhead was born a Dathomiri, Then no.’

Violet eyes flickered to Draca stepping up and speaking, wishing to reel the boy back. As it was, his one hand stayed idled in that direction, ready, while the other lifted to Bril. A grip on his arm was the next the Arconan Zabrak felt, firm and grounding, shaking him lightly as more concern bled into Ruka’s tone.

“Bril, I need you to answer me, can you do that, ay? Do you hear me?” With furrowing brows, the Mirialan decided it was best to act, and reached out to his apprentice not through a physical touch this time but a spiritual one, wrapping the younger man’s aura up in his own and melding them together, a steadying drumbeat of thunderstorms in the distance. Breathe, Bril, and focus. They weren’t words in his mind, but a sensation.

Sinya’ni thought for a moment, “Probably Shein then. Or both if there is time for that? I find ending a fight quickly is my best option but I have been shot at a lot.”

Words, some very, very wise words that were ingrained into his head escaped the Jedi Zabrak’s lips.

“It is the user that makes the form, not the other way around,” he said. “I use Ataru pretty much exclusively, but I adapted it and can block blaster fire pretty well. It took a lot of hard work and practice, but it can be done.”

Memories flooded Draca’s mind of his training with Anders. The Chiss was, as always, a taskmaster, especially when it came to lightsaber combat, but the young Jedi couldn’t deny the results of the training.

“Thanks for the advice. Maybe I should start there. Are you offering to be my partner? 😉” she teased. <@837236610684813342>

“Well, if putting your Form to the test is the goal, I’d be happy to help.” The Emissary flicked her wrist, and one of her lightsabers dropped into her hand. Double-bladed Soresu was rare enough, and Erinyes was intrigued to see how Lilina had adapted the form to suit her own tastes.

Erinyes proceeded into the “simulation field” part of the chamber, glancing warily around. She hadn’t used this kind of technology before, and while she’d learned from experience to place great faith in the Seneschal, she’d also learned—from James himself—that every new technology had bugs. Thus, she thumbed her lightsaber over to its low-powered “training” phase, just in case.

Bril felt his connection with Ruka strengthen and inhaled deeply at his behest. Steady breaths accompanied by his master’s guidance helped him regain proper grounding after a moment or two, causing the heat radiating across their bond to subside.

“My apologies,” he muttered, “I hadn’t … I hadn’t realized what was happening.”

A final message propagated through the Force and into the mind of the Twi'lek who was now conversing with Draca. If you have become one of the Nightsisters, then we have no problem.

<@244244163002892288> <@361376035444490240>

“You’re alright,” Ruka assured more softly, taking another step closer and using his hold on Bril to draw the Zabrak with him. The effect was a bolstered huddle with Melissa as Draca stuck out in front of her and challenged the Twi'lek, and Ruka’s hand sliding from arm to brace between shoulder blades. “Just breathe with me, ay? Don’t gotta say sorry. Breathe a minute. You not alone. We’ll figure it out.”

Sinya’ni saw that she had gotten under the Zabrak’s skin. She looked right at him and smiled for the first time since she arrived. She gave him a little wink and twirled her tchin with her index finger. Before returning her attention to the other more confident Zabrak.

Draca glanced between Sinua'ni and Melissa, who’s hand he still maintained a grip around. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he had to have trust. He had to have faith. In both her, and the Force. Ruka and Bril would never in a thousand years let anything hurt her, and even if Alaisy did do something against Draca in particular, she’d have Anders to contend with afterwards. They should be relatively safe. For now.

“Very well,” he gave a gentle bow of his head out of respect. “We can be each others first sparring partner.”

It gave him a good opportunity to learn more about the Twi'lek. Some say that in combat, one could learn much from tbeir opponent.

The Twi’lek nodded. “Good, this should be interesting. I hope you are up for the challenge. I’m a slow learner.” This was, of course, not true. However, she liked to set the bar low so she wouldn’t disappoint her teachers. She glanced at the tall willowy Sith. This was the Iridonian she had stared down when she arrived, maybe she could figure out the scuttlebutt behind that interaction. She allowed a tiny smirk to escape her lips as she watched the others get paired up. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be a boring class afterall.

Alaisy’s mask hissed from a sigh of exasperation. With two pairs already set to engage, the options narrowed down. Her tail flowed playfully behind her back as her sight fell upon the porcelain-skinned woman with flowing white hair, darting between her and the Mirialan.

“What form does the pale girl practice?” Her modulated voice had a mischievous tone to it.

<@244244163002892288>

“Absolutely not,” interjected Bril, shooting Alaisy a look. “We’re not giving you the opportunity to worm your way into her head like you tried to do with mine.”

<@244244163002892288>

“Those were your very own fears,” Aphotis flicked her ponytail nonchalantly. “Delicious though, but this class is about lightsabers, is it not?”

“And how did that end up for you last time?

"It is. So, let’s talk lightsabers, shall we?”

He held her gaze but gestured toward the lightsaber on her hip. “I see you’ve got a new toy after Draca destroyed your last one.”

There was a barely audible laughter coming from the black-clad Sith. His attempts at redirecting her worked, to a degree, and she was satisfied with either outcome.

“We barely had the chance to warm up, I really would appreciate a continuation of that. Perhaps you would like to prove your absolute superiority over me here and now?” Aphotis raised her arms up towards him in a challenging gesture, fanning out her claws.

“But not before she answers my question,” she pointed towards the Echani.

By the God damned Force, what the hell was happening!? So much for this being a pleasant training session. Apparently, bruised egos were the type to refuse to heal. What was it Erinyes had said about dick swinging contests? That seemed valid here.

Then Bril had to go and mention him too. The destruction of Alaisy’s saberstaff during the blizzard had been a particular sore spot for the Sith, at least at the time.

Draca ran a hand down his face. Part of him just wanted to vanish out of sught and out of mind, but the Shiny Sith appeared to be targeting Melissa and that? That would not do. He would defend her if needed, but it was not his decision to make, nor his right to answer for her. Instead, he gave her a gentle squeeze on her hand. Letting her know he was there. His guardian in the Force if needed.

<@432543120635461643>

Melissa returned the squeeze to Draca’s hand. She did not like this woman. Everything about her reminded Mela of the predatory animals back on her home planet. Each swish of her tail, the tensing of fingers, how her eyes flickered across the room. She’d spent more than one night caught up, hiding. It was a rare one when she’d had to do anything about it but she hadn’t ran.

You’re rarely faster than the thing chasing you.

Melissa offered a strained smile, focussing within on the Force to steady her mind, “Soresu. I only recently completed my own training, though, if you’re looking for a teacher.”

She maintained eye contact once it was made, her tone even.

Aphotis squinted, her dagger-shaped eyeliner and her on-fleek brows focused on the slight optimism in the movement of the Echani’s lips. She mimicked the smile, but it was hidden behind her mask and not at all strained.

“Perfect,” she rolled the ‘r’ in such a way that it sounded more like a purr. “What if I promised you that no harm would come to you and that you would have a chance to teach a Sith, myself, the basics of Soresu and some humility. In fact, the guarantee here is that I need a certain mindset for the learning of a defensive form to be successful, no?”

Her tail flicked excitedly back and forth, smoothly without twitching. She placed her hands on her back and leaned on her right leg.

“I can only teach someone what they want to learn.” Melissa answered.

Her fears spoke of a trap, glancing back toward Ruka, Draca, Bril. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, allowing the future to overtake for a moment. She’d been improving her grasp on her farsight but it still encroached on her mind like a tide.

The fuzz of lightsabers. Red on blue. Exhilaration. Burning muscles.

It wasn’t clear if this was even today. And yet…

She blinked a few times, unsettled but following her instincts had led her true.

“I won’t teach anything you don’t care for, nor can I promise I’ll be a good teacher of Soresu but if I’m your choice for that then I will spar you.”

She resisted the urge to look at the trio of men who were all on edge. Draca was accepting at least, she couldn’t tell for the other two, not without reaching with the Force which would be about as obvious as just turning around.

“No,” Ruka finally spoke up, his tone heavy with finality, all the weight of a former Proconsul, a teacher, and a father. “Neither of you are permitted to spar with her, as we discussed. Tir'ievra, I’m not entertaining your games. My apprentices will not duel you. Ricmore summoned us all here; whatever he can teach you is what you’ll learn, and if it’s lacking in Soresu, then that’s just too bad.”

<@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091> <@188018248241905664> <@837236610684813342>

Alaisy inclined her head at the white-haired woman. “I brought a regular lightsaber with me for the occasion. It is less about the technique and more about figuring out a way to make it work.”

She peered at the Mirialan.

“Not unexpected,” Aphotis muttered as she heard Ruka’s singular response. “Do you always keep your pets on a short leash, does it not exhaust you?” She shifted her weight to her other leg, aware of the buttons she was pushing. “There will be times when they will find greater challenges, greater dangers, and much more unexpected surprises to deal with.”

She found a wall to lean against, waiting for the first duo to find a holo field she could spectate.

<@432543120635461643> <@244244163002892288> <@837236610684813342> <@1056685516441006091>

Although he hadn’t expected him to react any other way, Bril was nonetheless relieved when Ruka denounced Alaisy’s attempt to goad them into a spar in stronger terms even than he had. When the Sith replied, though, Bril felt his face twitch – an instinctual yet subdued reaction to the blatant disrespect of his master. His friend. He could have attacked her; a part of him begged him to, to grab an arm and see how far it could bend before it popped or if that weird suit of hers would make her bounce higher when a Force push sent her skipping across the ground like a misshapen, foul-mouthed stone.

But he knew better. He’d spent a lot of time mulling over the details of their last encounter and, although he knew he’d been the victor of their brief skirmish, he knew that on some level she’d won just by getting a reaction out of him. Was that what she wanted? To provoke?

“You know, as much as you deserve it, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of kicking your ass again,” retorted Bril, words delivered with the weight of shockboxing punches. “Is that why you like to push people’s buttons? You’re so devoid of depth that you have to provoke people to watch them experience feelings that you aren’t capable of? It must be so tough, being you.”

His voice softened at the end, as if he felt genuine pity for her. Then, he turned to Ruka and Mel, deliberately turning his back to the towering woman in the process.

<@244244163002892288> <@432543120635461643>

Aphotis had expected the young Zabrak to bark like a rabid akk-dog. His commentary was no different than the other times they had met. A pitiful display of overcompensation for what he lacked in training and purpose. She could only imagine that if he was already this stubborn to learn a lesson, it would get no better with age, just scar after scar that would burn his soul away and fester. Her claw closed as she reached into the Force, stirring the pool with a single digit.

The prickles she received from him confirmed her suspicions. A swelling of supremacy coupled with spite. Nothing new there, her plain sight could’ve told her that. Yet there was an uncertainty tinged in between the snide he spouted.

The Sith inhaled with a hiss as she ran his words through a mental filter. The first was mere fighting talk, while he was bound from engaging and safe from repercussions. She would give him the chance to try and back up his words later. With careful consideration, she took it as an invitation and accepted.

“I accept your invitation towards violence, name your place and time, but do not dare to do so without taking off your collar first, and leave the little pups at home, will you?” She closed her eyes and listened to the next flow of verbal vindication as he showed his back to her.

The words themselves made her smile behind the mask. .

Devoid of depth? Ah, feelings.

It must have seemed so impossible to imagine for him, that the scary Sith had emotions just like them. That not only physical attacks but also words could affect someone like her. Perhaps he did know but he did not want to show pity. His emotions seemed to prove that theory. Tir'eivra, however, thought it would be better to let the water boil for a little longer, and not let him in on her observation. Better to go with the usual.

“It seems you know me well, I would love to find out what you feel, how much more pleasant and full your life is. One day, I might find out. Try and hold onto that for now.” Alaisy’s voice was almost jovial, undeterred by the mask’s modulation.

Her recent encounter on Selen with a Jedi, Kelar Azmurn, willing and ready to give his life was exactly what proved the Iridonian wrong. She had drained him of his life as his spirit was passing into the Force. He was rewarded with eternal damnation, and she was paid in kind with the sensation of that peaceful bliss. No matter how rotten it felt to her, she could really say that she felt what all Jedi ultimately strive for.

“Hey! You don’t know what she’s felt or experienced. Maybe watching your drama is how she distracts herself from the genuine horrors she experienced. And as far as refusing to duel someone because they might play mind games? They have to grow up eventually. And they will encounter far worse than anything they will experience here.” The Twi’lek spoke with passion, but it was not anger radiating from her words, but sorrow. Sorrow enough to swallow one’s soul. “Might as well let them experience it here and now instead of on a battlefield where they will either kill everyone or retreat into themselves to be lost forever.”

“Diosez ay sanos Ashla ey Bogan…” Ruka muttered to himself, passing a hand over his eyes where an intense migraine was already forming. “Bril! Not another word. Come on. Both of you.” He gestured over to an opposing wall, well away from Alaisy, and giving plenty of view of the matches. He looked to Sinya. “And you, ma'am? They experienced plenty. ‘You don’t know,’” he quoted back to her. “We’re sorry to interrupt your match.”

<@361376035444490240> <@837236610684813342> <@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

Melissa glanced between the variant voices, the tension in Ruka and Bril’s frustration itching through the Force. She knew it’d be okay.

Or at least a fight with this woman someday would go okay.

Maybe it was for the best if it wasn’t today it happened, or maybe it’d be a missed chance to do it. The future was fickle but she wasn’t about to be part of the present problem on the whim of something that may not occur today.

Even if it was mildly disappointing to walk away from the spars.

Spying the fallen look on her pale face as they collectively turned and moved away, Ruka took a deep, bracing breath – one, two, three, four – and spoke softly over his shoulder to both of them.

“Not fighting her doesn’t mean not getting to spar at all or not learning nothing, ay? I got stuff to say. Please just trust me on this. And you,” his gaze darted up to Bril, and it was much harder than to Melissa, “we’re gonna talk about what just happened. Later. For right now, huddle up, c'mon.”

<@1056685516441006091>

If there was ever a moment that felt like being caught between a rock and a hard place, it was right here, right now, in amidst all the angry Sith, dark sides, balance and the light. Instead of fighting with lightsabers, the first weapon of choice was words.

“Dun Möch is a valuable weapon. In the right hands, it can unsettle and unbalance even the mightiest of duelist before blades are ever crossed. Be mindful of that, Draca.”

Anders was right. Words really could make an impact. Though, he had to wonder if this was Dun Möch on the Sith’s part or a very clever use of her words. It certainly seemed to rile up Bril to the point where he received a scolding (or promise of one) from Ruka.

Sinya had been equally passionate. It almost reminded him of his own thoughts, in a way. They needed to be prepared for anything. War, as Draca learned the hard way whilst he was with the Children of Mortis, could be brutal.

“Perhaps…” he placed a hand under his chin, looking contemplative. “We should get started? I believe there is a spar about to be underway? We could learn by observing?”

And hopefully it would keep everyone quiet for a few minutes.

<@188018248241905664> <@244244163002892288> <@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091> <@361376035444490240> <@476595775187451913> <@645466919415054357> <@339758862406254592>

Lilina activated her lightsaber, and both blades from the Sith hilt shone a pure white, also thumbing the power down to a training level. “It would be a great learning experience to spar with you.” She adopted a stance that looked almost nothing like the typical flamboyant Soresu stance, her strong foot back, one blade pointing upwards, covering one side of her face and the other blade pointing down, covering the opposite side of the legs.

Aphotis found a spot within Lilina’s and Erinyes’ simulation square that allowed her to watch the duel, a nice corner where she would not show her back to anyone.

Her eyes opened wide as she saw the Miraluka’s silver plasma blades.

Purified? How despicable.

Tir'eivra thought it was similar to what some Jedi stood for. Complete lifelessness. And Lilina’s stance was unfamiliar to her as well, a bit less showy than she was used to seeing. The Sith had utilized a saberstaff for a good while until Draca turned it to scrap, but it was a good time to take a step back and focus on her strengths.

<@645466919415054357>

Sinya looked at the bystanders. On one hand, the group of Jedi. Self righteous pricks that were quick to judge, and she hadn’t exactly made a good impression on them. On the other, the Sith was interesting and a nightsister, but she’d had her fill of Sith. And sitting with her would further ostracize her from the rest of the group. She sighed, “I hate politics.” She settled for sitting alone to watch the match.

“Smart,” Erinyes murmured to herself. She could tell from Lilina’s stance that the now-armed blind woman had learned the battlefield’s lessons well. A flamboyant guard with the saber held above one’s head was likely to get you shot. The Emissary also noted the new presences at the side of the sparring area, watching.

Erinyes’ violet blade shrieked to life, and with the barest of salutes, she shot towards Lilina. For now, the goal was just to test the Mirakuka, so Erinyes obliged Lilina’s wish to practice the full range of “basic techniques”. If there was any Form that could push Soresu to its limit, it was Juyo.

Step in. Head cut. It was all automatic. Step around. Knee cut. Erinyes barely heard her lightsaber impact the lower blade of Lilina’s saberstaff, or the brief footfalls as the Christophsis crystal’s amplified impact knocked Lilina off-balance. She was too focused on finding the next opening. Step through. Spine. The two women moved past each other. Lilina’s lightsaber spun into a efficient parry behind her back, not the gratuitous spin most saberstaff users employed, and brushed Erinyes’ strike away—an adaptation to reduce the impact of the, well, impact of Erinyes’ Christophsis-enhanced strikes. The Miraluka took another step to give herself breathing room, and Erinyes pursued her– but oop, there was the “back” end of Lilina’s saberstaff, braced beneath the Miraluka’s forearm and ready to skewer the Emissary should she decide to advance.

“Not bad,” Erinyes said, more approvingly than most Sith would speak of such decidedly Jedi tactics. Then she shoved the glowing white obstacle to one side. Unfortunately, physics was as much her adversary as the Miraluka. The shove inevitably brought the other end of Lilina’s saberstaff around, forcing Erinyes to duck beneath it. In the same moment, Lilina sensed Erinyes’ intent and took another gliding step out of range, then levelled her staff in the same defensive posture to ward off Erinyes’ approach.

The Emissary hrm-ed to herself as she watched Lilina shift back into her cautious, unorthodox guard stance. Step in, torso. The saberstaff’s biggest vulnerability, in her opinion, was the giant middle section that wasn’t usually resistant to lightsabers. How had the Miraluka adapted her style to cover that weakness?

The answer turned out to be “admirably”. Lilina simply shifted her weapon so Erinyes’ strike impacted the rear blade, an option she wouldn’t have had with a standard lightsaber, with the elongated hilt braced against her forearm to absorb the force of the blow. Erinyes bolted forward as she sensed the Miraluka’s designs on her weapon—Lilina’s saberstaff was now in a perfect position for a disarming strike, after all—and the attack passed through empty air. Turn, rising cut.

And so it continued. Erinyes stayed constantly on the move, testing Lilina’s defences from every angle. From the outside, Erinyes seemed to literally fight circles around Lilina, nibbling around the edges of her defences but never piercing them to the core. Lilina, meanwhile, was the rock in the storm—calmly and stoically enduring the onslaught, but never moving to stop it at its source.

<@188018248241905664> <@361376035444490240>

Once Bril, Melissa, and Ruka settled in their own spot to observe the match, Alaisy in sight as well as Sinya and Draca close enough to get to if needed, the Mirialan gestured both his apprentices close, signalling them to listen while they observed.

“Look, ay. That wasn’t about you guys, okay? It’s not I don’t think you skilled enough,” a warning, lightened violet gaze shot to Bril, “even if you might not be emotionally ready yet. It’s all about her. Alaisy Tir'ievra ain’t no joke. If we’d realized that’s who you and Draca fought, Bril, we’d all have had this talk a lot sooner. I don’t frangin’ know what Draca’s thinking or been told, ‘cause Anderson damn well must know about her to have hired her, but she’s bad news. She used to be in Arcona, Qel-Droma. I was still full time with the Lotus then, but I did go on a mission with her, and met her plenty. She’s as Sith stereotype as your holobooks all say. An alchemist. Experiments. Used the old Voidbreaker as a lab. You remember Karran? He was a foot shorter and thinner, and then he went to her to use one of them Nightsister rituals to enhance himself. She had this droid that was sentient, that she’d made alive or something. She toyed with things. Like, holocrons, objects, people. She didn’t have a tail when I knew her, and that suit is different than it was. More alive. Ashla and Bogan know what she’s done to herself or anyone else.”

He sighed.

<@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

“I’ll have the DIA pull– er,” a slight stumble, and a wince, “I’ll ask Zuza to pull the old VB footage. There’s plenty of her, but it’s years old, so we can’t trust it much. The most important thing we can do is watch her today, and not let her play with us. She likes to mess with people. Ain’t nobody right in the head ever said someone’s fears was ‘delicious.’ She knows she’s provoking you and me, Bril, and she knows she’s prodding you, Mela, too. It’s all games. Ain’t just her claws and whip and terror powers that’s dangerous, it’s whatever she’s plotting and thinking, ay? However she gonna manipulate us. Disengaging is our best bet. If she gets bored, the better. She holds grudges. Did against my first apprentice, Eilen.”

His tone softened.

“It’s not you guys, okay? Ay?”

Sinya’ni watched with interest as the pair sparred. Analyzing their movements, noting the openings and how they defended them. It was always enlightening the first time you watch someone fight. Everyone had a different style, even when practicing the same form.

Lilina’s defence was small and tight, stepping off the centreline regularly as she defended Erinyes’ onslaught, never being a stationary target, making no unnecessary, extraneous movements. It was easier to keep your body covered when you abandoned all the spinning that some Jedi seemed to be so fond of.

Erinyes was putting through her paces, giving her different angles to work, always presenting new options, new challenges. This was the kind of test she had come to the event for. But in this fight, she couldn’t defend forever, she was not protecting anyone, or stalling for time while others arrived. This was a one-on-one duel. As Erinyes cut low, Lilina stepped back, avoiding the attack and attempted a rare cut to Erinyes’ hands. The attack missed, the Emissary too quick for her, but she managed to get the other blade up high to block Erinyes’ follow-up strike

Draca maintained his position within earshot of Bril, Ruka, and especially Melissa. He’d heard what Ruka had to say, especially about Alaisy, though he didn’t need to.

He’d experienced a glimpse of her power firsthand. Just like she had seen a glimpse of his.

He became attentive to the duel at hand before he got carried away in his own thoughts. He was taught from a very young age that one must be respectful when others are training in front of you. You must be mindful of your surroundings, analyse their strengths, weaknesses. There is much to be learnt from observation that could be put into practice.

The young Zabrak had scarcely seen a Saberstaff variant of Soresu, and truth be told, he was impressed. It was nothing flashy, but Lilina defended herself expertly against Erinyes’ aggressive assault.

Speaking of the emissary, Draca was keen to watch her. Sith were often very different from each other. He was curious to see how her combat style differed from Anders.

Ruka’s emphasis on the word “emotionally” made him suck his teeth in response. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious that it was directed at him. One hundred potential responses to his master’s warnings and explanations went through his head, but he found none of them neither appropriate nor particularly satisying, so he didn’t say anything at all. He merely nodded while keeping his eyes trained on the sparring session that was playing out before them.

Erinyes continued her circuit around Lilina, snapping off quick, probing cuts to keep pressure on the Miraluka’s defences—but oop, there was the back end of Lilina’s saberstaff, spinning to attack her wrist, forearm, and her saber itself with surprising quickness. Thanks to Erinyes’ superior speed, the blows never landed, but they didn’t need to. Every time the Emissary withdrew her hand to make sure it stayed attached, her lightsaber withdrew with it, warding off an attack just as effectively as if Lilina had blocked it directly.

Undeterred, Erinyes launched another series of fast, light strikes. Against most Soresu practitoners, any one of the attacks would’ve blossomed into a chain meant to overwhelm the defender’s efficiency with brute force. Lilina, however, neatly interrupted each flurry with her repeated counterattacks to Erinyes’s hands like a religious-school teacher trying to rap an unruly student’s knuckles.

Great, she made Soresu even more annoying to fight, Erinyes thought—not that she minded the challenge. Before her next flurry of attacks, she opened herself to the Force and used her Marauder training to quicken herself. It was time to push Lilina to the edge of her limits.

General Erinyes’ fighting style kept this spar from getting stale, seeing her turn into a blur of speed was exhilarating. Aphotis kept her hand on her mask as she pondered how long Lilina would be able to withstand the onslaught.

Between the session, her electric-blue eyes darted over the others to keep them in check. With Hector here, there was no chance or reason to cause some chaos anyway, but she studied him as he seemed to absorb the duel.

Erinyes was naturally faster than Lilina, she had barely been hanging on through efficiency of her Soresu movement. As Erinyes stepped up a gear, the speed difference grew even wider. Lilina began to take steps backwards, giving her more time to react between each strike. But there was only one way this was going to end. Erinyes was going to keep getting faster and faster until she broke through.

An attack came from an unexpected angle. Her weapon was not in place. She threw out her off hand, building a shield of the Force itself to block Erinyes’ attack and open up an opportunity for a counter

Bril watched quietly with his arms folded as Erinyes and Lilina sparred, carefully observing the way they moved and embodied their respective forms. He’d never seen Soresu used with a double-bladed lightsaber before. It wasn’t a weapon that seemed like the ideal choice for a defensively minded duelist, better suited for a more aggressive style such as Juyo or Djem So. But she made it work. Clearly, Bril had a lot more to learn about the flexibility of the various forms of lightsaber combat and how one could truly make them one’s own.

General Erinyes moved even faster than he’d expected. Ruka had told him about her following their initial introduction on Kasiya, of her character and prowess with the blade, but getting to see it firsthand was something else entirely. His own abilities felt painfully maladroit in comparison, just as they often did when sparring his own masters back home.

Erinyes heaved a sigh when her violet blade bounced off Lilina’s barrier. There was no way for her to outmaneuver that kind of defence, only smash through it, and she was running out of time; her legs were starting to burn, and her lightsaber had gotten noticeably heavier as the bout went on. Meanwhile, Lilina’s hyper-efficient Form meant she hadn’t had to expend as much energy to maintain her defence, and her unavoidable barriers made up for any differences in raw speed and skill with a lightsaber. In other words, Lilina might not be able to match Erinyes, but she could certainly outlast her—and on a battlefield, that was just as good.

Ugh, these kriffing Soresu users! Irritation flashed through Erinyes’ mind. Carving through layer upon layer of “impenetrable” defences was tedious at the best of times. Add Lilina’s unusual saberstaff variant and her skill with barriers, and breaking her guard was taking far more of Erinyes’ capabilities than she’d willingly admit. It wasn’t often that Erinyes found a lightsaber duel both difficult and tedious, but Lilina had pulled it off, and the urge to shrug and walk away from the whole thing was strong.

She’s not going to learn anything from that, though, Erinyes reminded herself—and she had a point. She was here to help others refine their skills, not just for her own enjoyment. She had to be responsible, and all that kark.

Bleh.

Reaching into the Force, Erinyes drew one hand back, then channelled all the focus and frustration she could muster and shoved her palm towards Lilina. The telekinetic blast rolled across the arena like a tidal wave, shattering the Miraluka’s barrier and knocking her back several steps, while the portions that hadn’t struck the barrier rattled the transparisteel windows behind Lilina in their frames.

With that obstacle out of the way, Erinyes charged forward before Lilina could backpedal further, unleashing another series of strikes. This time, her movements were noticeably slower, something that Lilina could keep up with relatively easily. The difficulty came when Erinyes drew on her skill advantage and started countering Lilina’s ripostes by attacking into them, in much the same way Lilina had been trying to disarm her.

The new approach forced the Miraluka to divert her attention to protecting her hands and her lightsaber, and in doing so, left gaps in Lilina’s coverage of her body. Erinyes pointed these gaps out through feints rather than pressing the attacks home, showing Lilina it was safe to focus on learning how to counter the tactic instead of scrambling to defend herself with techniques she already knew.

As they watched, Ruka’s paled gaze kept darting to Tir'ievra across the way, a squinting glare every time, assessing and watchful. <@188018248241905664> The longer the bout went on, the more Bril seemed to be drawn in – good – but he could sense a frission of doubt in his apprentice through their bond. Melissa was less responsive, and he murmured softly to check in with her.

“That is a staff-using Soresu master. Are you interested? You could ask her for some lessons.” Then, to Bril, “What do you think?”

<@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643>

Lilina was well aware of every time Erinyes could have bypassed her guard, and appreciated her slowing down so that she could effectively practice a guard. But both fighters began to tire as the duel went on, before it came to its inevitable conclusion. A mistake from Lilina and Erinyes’ powered-down training blade clipped through her fingers, sending a small jolt through her hands.

It was enough that if it were a real blade, she’d have dropped her lightsaber, and the fight would be over. “I’ve learned a lot from this,” said Lilina, her voice notably less soft and smooth with her breath drawn out in rags. “Thank you for sparring with me.”

Sinya’ni watched the combatants work around each other, wearing each other down. It seemed like a total waste of energy…”they are both so tired, what if another enemy joined in?” she mumbled to herself. She also doubted she could maintain focus that long. The bout finally ended and the diminutive Twi’lek waited for the next match to be set up. She pulled some jerky out of a pocket and nibbled at it.

“Anytime.” Erinyes deactivated her lightsaber and wiped the sweat from her brow, then joined Lilina as the Miraluka stepped out of the simulation field. “One more piece of advice: take the initiative more often. I know Soresu practitioners don’t believe the best defence is a good offence, but it was your counterattacks that tripped me up, not your blocks.”

“It never occurred to me that you could a saber staff with Soresu,” he replied to Ruka. “I’ve always been interested in them, but I wasn’t quite sure if it would work with my preferred styles. But now, I think I may try it.”

“There’s a woman in Arcona who fights the same way,” Ruka murmured back. “You might’ve heard of her or sensed her around. Her name is Atyiru.”

If it was possible, his eyelashes might have gone grayer just saying her name, a twitch to one eye in annoyance that made his whole jaw tick.

“She’s …ay, a lot. But she’s an insane healer and insanely strong in the Force, connected like,” he lifted his hands and interlocked his fingers, then made as if to pull them apart, but unable. “Also I think she’s just frangin’ insane, ay, go anywhere near her and you end up married, I no kidding, ay, I done so, SO many divorces.”

Melissa frowned lightly, “Married?” That… seemed a strange thing to have occur simply being in proximity to someone.

Concerning.

The Echani wasn’t really confident with learning to use a staff, hesistating at the idea and had shook her head at Ruka’s suggestion.

The Mirialan noted the rejection, tucking it away for future use. There had to be more Soresu practitioners around she could learn from. And he was fairly certain the form could be master with one saber or a staff, so maybe Liliana or Atyriu knew anyway.

“She’s…really into marrying people. To anyone. Or anything. Without askin’. Wrote some nuts laws into stuff when she was Consul about the Arconae and her specifically having these total marriage powers and managed to make it so they couldn’t be repealed, so…me and Qy spent a lot of time undoing stuff. She married me and another woman when we were both asleep. And I was still married to Cora!”

Bril leaned over to give her a playful nudge. “Oh, come on,” he said, “I’m sure you’d be great at it, Mela. We could learn together.”

Settling back into his original position, Bril considered Ruka’s suggestion. As tempting as it was, he wasn’t sure he was ready to be married just yet. But this woman seemed like a force of nature in her own right.

“On second thought, maybe we should look for other teachers,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

Then, his eyes suddenly widened, and his posture went rigid. An echo of a previous vision overtakes him and, as the images played out in his mind’s eye again, those closest to him could hear him muttering a tune in a sing-songy voice that sounded eerily similar in cadence to the woman his master had mentioned:

“Jack-a-dale, jack-a-dale, take to the sky, for only feathers and ashes can fly, and now as ashes, so too can I.”

Then, as quickly as the echo had come, it faded, snapping him back to the present. Bril’s hand shot up to grip his head, and he groaned.

<@244244163002892288>

“Bril?” Ruka asked, bracing his apprentice with a hand on his shoulder and leaning over. He shot a glance to Melissa, who also knew well about visions and them taking over in the middle of a waking moment. For her that was near daily; for Ruka, it had begun to happen with more frequency over the last few years, no longer caged to just his sleeping dreams; but for Bril, while his senses were hypersensitive, his visions were usually limited to triggers, links to strong objects or areas in the Force, and more of the past than the future. “Bril, you with us?” <@432543120635461643>

Melissa frowned, placing a hand on Bril’s shoulder but waiting for him to reply. He was likely back, but there was need to rush.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” replied Bril with a reassuring nod to them both. “Just had a partial vision. More like a memory of one I had before, when I touched Draca’s saber.”

Bril took the next few moments to describe Aytiru in vivid detail — the way she looked, the way she spoke, how she moved … her connection to the caxqettes they’d only recently defended their home against in what DDF personnel were calling Operation Brimstone.

“Does that sound like the woman you’re describing, master?” he asked again. It was likely a conversation they’d have to have in more detail later. For now, a confirmation of his suspicions would do.

<@244244163002892288> <@432543120635461643>

Ruka had paled slightly, swallowing in the convulsive way that he did when the caxqettes, and especially their initial encounter, came up. His hand was unconsciously on his side, where both apprentices now knew what was under the armor there.

“Y–” he coughed to clear his throat. “Yeah, ay, yeah, that’s her. I. Ay, I didn’t …know about. That she was there too. Just,” he gestured towards Tir'ievra, “her and the others. I was…I just have missed her. Been…out by then.”

He grew quiet a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Maybe we definitely find you a different Soresu teacher then,” the Mirialan concluded. “She’s– she’s not horrible. If any of us were ever really hurt, I’d be praying she was there, ay. But. I dunno. Just…I don’t know. Let’s focus. Got the next matches.”

He’d listened. By the Force, how he’d listened. He knew Atyiru. In fact, she was the one who gave Draca the rocks that would eventually be used in his lightsaber.

He’d observed. By the Force, how he’d observed the fight between Erinyes and Lilina. It was an impressive display, a lesson that not everything has to be so black and white. There was more than one way to achieve a desired effect. In Lilina’s case, that was utilising a saverstaff to create a near-impenetrable defence.

The memory of his promise to Sinya flashed through him when Hector made his announcement. Sraca looked to the Twi'Lek and smiled.

“Do you still wish to spar? We can go next if you want?”

He gestured towards the simulator, allowing her to take the lead like the gentleman he was.

<@361376035444490240>

The Twi’lek looked up at the nightbrother…or Zabrak. Most iridonians she’d met were nightbrothers, but this one did not seem to be. She smiled sweetly. A cute, disarming smile, honed by years of practice,that made most sentients see her as an innocent little girl. “Yes. That sounds good. We can get to know each other a bit.” *she winked at him as she sashayed down from the observation deck to the ring. Sinya’ni wondered if the elder didn’t trust her enough to turn his back or was beholden to some outdated code of chivalry…or maybe he just want to watch her walk away. She made the best of the opportunity and swayed her hips seductively as she led him to the simulator.

“I’m at an disadvantage here. Most of the time, my opponent doesn’t even know I’m after them until they feel my lightsaber between their ribs. I’m sorry if I’m not much of a challenge for you.” When she reached the center of the arena, she turned to face him once more. The smile still on her lips and large sad eyes staring intently into his, she moved her lightsaber in front of her.

“Are you ready to dance?”

Bril frowned upon seeing Ruka’s reaction, and instinctively reached out to place a hand on the arm that shifted toward where he knew the Mirialan’s lightsaber to be.

“Just breathe, master,” he began, adopting a more measured tone in the hopes of returning the favor for all the times Ruka had helped him calm himself. “you’re not there, you’re here with Mela and I.”

He turned to look at Melissa, gesturing for her to offer her input. “Right?”

<@432543120635461643>

Melissa nodded, a slight smile crossing her features.

“Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

Ruka let out another slowly counted four breath and nodded, his hand jerking into his own lap and away from his weapon at Bril’s minding touch.

“‘Meant to be…’” he muttered lowly, echoing Melissa. So rarely did the Mirialan know how to feel about that. That so much of what they suffered was purposeful. “I’m alright, ay. You’re the one that just had a vision, Bril. How’s your head?”

He smirked and gave Ruka a thumbs up. “Just fine, master,” he replied, “We Zabraks are built different.”

Some cultures believed fighting could teach you more about another individual than anything else. Who knew? Maybe Sinya had a point. Maybe they’d learn something about each other.

“None of that self deprecation,” Draca held a hand out in front of himself as if to stop her. “I’m sure you aren’t as bad as you say you are. We are all here to learn. Right now, focus more on what you can do instead of what you can’t.”

It was funny hearing the words coming out of his own mouth, given the amount of times they had been directed at him by Anders. It was a nice change of pace.

“We Zabraks are built differently.”

Yep. Draca heard the end of that. He gave Bril a smirk and shook his head, letting out a deep breath. Really, Bril? Well, if they were built different, then he’d better not dissapoint.

He summoned his lightsaber to his hand via the Force, twisting it at the centre to seperate the magnetic locks that held the saberstaff together, splitting it into two single bladed lightsaber. He placed one back on his belt and activated the one is one hand.

A multi-hued aura erupted from the hilt, flashing a myriad of colours that interchanged down the blade, starting with green, then yellow, red, purple, and finally, blue.

The Jedi held a wide stance, both hands on his lightsaber hilt as he held it vertically to the right side of his body.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Draca announced.

Ruka didn’t quite resist rolling his eyes at the bravado. Bril was so proud it swerved into arrogant too often. And the Mirialan still didn’t get the ‘Zabbro’ thing his apprentice had mentioned what felt like ages ago after Kasiya. Cora would kindly remind him that he’d never exactly been tuned in to the whole…culture thing of people his age or younger, but still, he usually thought he had an okay grasp.

Not that Noga or Leda agreed on that part, so.

Sinya’ni smirked at his attempt to encourage her. How very Jedi of him. She focused for a moment and disappeared from sight. Draca didn’t seem phased and seemed to be waiting for her to reappear. The invisible Twi’lek moved slightly to the Zabrak’s off hand and then lunged, igniting her blade a second before striking. Draca anticipated the move and had switched hands, easily parrying the green blade and spinning past the now visible opponent. Sinya ducked the raindowvescent counter attack. Her own blade flashed out finding nothing but air as the acrobatic Iridonian somersaulted over her. She spun to face him with a high guard and waited to see what he would do next.

The Mirialan watched Sinya disappear and reappear, eyes tracking her shimmer of a shadow, noting how she ignited her blade at the last second. In an effort to actually teach something more here than how much a threat Tir'ievra was, he poked both his apprentices.

“What do you think of their styles? Who do you think would win? And what would you do if an opponent disappeared on you?”

<@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

“I’d maintain a guard. Keep my back to a wall.” She’d been cornered before, in a dark spot, where there wasn’t really options of where to go.

Melissa wasn’t too sure on the other questions. She wasn’t skilled enough ot determine an outcome, nor to judge their styles.

“Good thought,” Ruka encouraged, not minding that she didn’t answer further. “Being on guard is important, ay, and anything you can do to cover you back is good too, especially if you alone or don’t know where someone is. Or, like, getting someone you’re guarding close against a wall.”

We are ready too, indeed.

Aphotis noticed nothing different about Draca that she had not witnessed before. An optimism just a step away from naivety and bordering on arrogance. It would be all too easy to see him slip up at a pivotal moment.

The short Twi'lek would have to take more of the Zabrak’s concentration for any move to be made. It was time to be patient and strategize and weave spells.

Let them warm up.

The black-clad Sith peered at the Mirialan, squinting her eyes behind the black, shimmering visor. The little melody she created with her nails turned into a dance of digits as she dipped into the dark side. She focused her receptors on what he might fear most, the aroma of it, his breathing, his temperature, the beating of his heart. Chills ran over her second skin, even a pinch could feel like a dagger piercing it right now. Her long tail swung left and right, almost playfully so, like a Tooka on the prowl.

<@244244163002892288>

Still hanging out with Lilina, Erinyes turned to watch the next bout, just in time to see Sinya disappear from view.

Ah, it was going to be one of those fights. At least Sinya’s mixture of Vaapad and sneaking around was a novel approach.

Since Sinya had left her with barely anything to see, Erinyes focused her attention on Draca instead. She’d never actually seen him fight before—at least, not against anything more threatening than an ice cream cone. The youngster was clearly technically skilled, even with his chosen Form putting him at a disadvantage on the defensive.

“Cloaking via the Force is a valuable skill, but more suited for ambushes,” replied Bril, “I would do what I expect Draca to, which is to rely on my senses in the Force to track where she is whenever she vanishes. Another option woild be to use Suppression to prevent her from using the Force altogether.”

Lilina inclined her head respectfully. “Thank you for your advice, General Erinyes.”

That wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t the Jedi way, it wasn’t her way. And besides, she trusted her allies to get to the fight before the enemy’s. The best defence was Soresu, the best offence was teamwork and friendship. But she wasn’t going to say anything to Erinyes, she did genuinely appreciate her advice

Clever. Very clever. Though, that tactic was far more effective against an opponent that was unaware of her presence. Unlike Draca, who had literally watched her vanish with his own eyes.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he waited for Sinya to turn to face him.

The Twi'Lek had said she didn’t value her own skills with her lightsaber. Time to see if that were true, or if she were underselling herself.

With athleticism guided by the Force, Draca leapt into the air, descending upon Sinya like a hawk-bat swooping on its prey. To her credit, the Nightsister formed a horizontal guard, blocking the attack. Green clashed with the rainbow hue of his own weapon with vicious, ferocious lashes more akin to a vornskr.

Vaapad. Draca recognised it. He’d fought it before on Baatu. <@1056685516441006091>

As the two traded attacks with one another, the tainted crystal in Sinya’s weapon releasing a noxious fume with every parry. Draca was certainly faster, perhaps more skilled with the blade if one were to be over critical, though Sinya was no slouch and defended herself expertly, launching counterattacks in moments that the young Jedi appeared to leave an opening.

<@361376035444490240>

Ruka shuddered ever so slightly at the mention of suppressing one’s connection to the Force, but nodded along and gave Bril a grim little attempt at a smile. “Good tactic, ay, but trade-offs. You be needing to focus on that, so it’s better used in a team. S'why me and Cor do it. He can stay back and support while I’m the vanguard. Also, ay, plenty folks learn to move around while they cloaked, so don’t expect it just in ambushes…”

As he was speaking, he felt something. Something he’d felt before. On that island, in those trees, in the blood and dirt. Over and over over the years. It sat on his tongue like bile, smelled like his own guts spilled out, sour and hot. He swallowed reflexively, but that didn’t make it go away.

tp-tp-tpt-tp-tp-tp

scrrriii

It was scratching in his brain. Something slithering just under his skull. Not a song in his ears, but just as poison, playing the same notes, tp-tp-tp-tp-tp–

-ack-clakc-clack

Milky violet eyes snapped over to the drumming daggers of Tir'viera’s nails on the durasteel. This far from her, the sound was so faint, he didn’t really hear it over the sound of clashing sabers and footsteps, over Melissa and Bril’s breathing, over the roaring in his ears. But he could watch it. Their rhythmic beat echoed in his head, in his chest, that song, that horrible song.

Darkness in the forest. Humidity, sweating, whispers in the leaves. Begging. Betrayal. Caught going over the cliff and pulled back. The drag of a blade in his abdomen, how hard his hand had been shaking doing it. The violation, the violence.

Karran showing up one day, taller, broader, sharper, twisted. He says he’s stronger now. He means he can kill and torture the ones who hurt him, his family. He means vengeance, violence.

- Eilen gnaws her knuckles, flecks of blood in the fur, and he pulls her hand away from her mouth, holding it tight while she slouches on his shoulders, hidden from view. The Sith sits at the bar and bids her to show herself, exposing, violating, calls her a thief. There’s promise in her tone, vengeance too.

Bril sits by his bedside and talks about sacrifice. He’s a good kid. A good man. But he’s got that same streak, the arrogance, the fall. It would be so easy for him to tip over the line and plummet. To tie himself to some enemy and call it rivalry or justice and mean revenge, mean punishment, mean when he gets there he will see this town burn for hurting his beloved Minnow. What if Draca hadn’t been there? What if–

And that kriffing Sith again, trying to put her claws in him, going for Mela like a tooka pouncing on prey. Hell no. No, he won’t let it happen. They could hate him for it, he could do that, he’d done it so many times already, fine, fine, but she wasn’t going to touch them he wouldn’t let her–

Ruka’s gaze lifted from claws to the mask, where he could feel her eyes would be. He stared back, breathing in steadily, bile and deep dark, and slowly shook his head, eyes narrowed, then just as slowly touched his saber hilt in warning.

The Twi’lek was certainly outmatched by the large, horny dude’s technical skill. However, disappearing was only a taste of her tricks. She made a point to never stand toe to toe with an opponent. Mostly because it hurt her neck looking up to watch their eyes. In this case, it was hard to even keep track of the eyes of someone more akin to a shockball than a person. He bounced around so much he was hard to follow. “You are really very good. Have you ever even lost a match?” She looked at him exuding reverence and a tinge of fear from her eyes.

The orphan went through her quick mental checklist… ’Appeal to his base instincts…check. Down play my abilities…check. Demonstrate his superiority…check. Inflate his ego…check. Ok, time to make a move.’

She parried and reposted as normal for one–two–three more times. Then she ducked under an aggressive slash, moving in close to the towering Iridonian. Her bright green blade angling high towards his shoulder. Her off hand was down at her waist as was usual for this pirouette maneuver, but this time, it grabbed the armory saber still hanging from her belt. With a sudden snap-hiss, the crimson blade plunged towards his unprotected transverse abdominals…. <@837236610684813342>

Defeat was often the greatest teacher. Draca had lost his fair share of battles, of course he had, and he was about to tell Sinya as such when…

‘OH, SNAP!’

He saw the two blades, red and green, a deadly combo of flashing light and sound. The Force, his everlasting ally, urged him to move before he was struck. The young Jedi did what he did best and jumped, cartwheeling in the air between both of the Twi'Leks lightsaber blades. They grazed his jedi cloak, slightly tearing it, but otherwise leaving him unharmed.

Sinta lunged at him like a woman possessed. She, smartly, did not want for Draca to get his bearings. She swiped, stabbed and pressed her assault as best she could with a weapon in each hand.

The Zabrak felt the adrenaline in his soul, his hearts pounding in tandem with the rhythm of their fight. As Sinya approached, he backflipped once, twice, then thrice, landing on the edge of edge of their designated combat area after finally getting some distance.

“You use Jar'Kai?” Draca had a wide smile on his face as he asked with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than anyone was expecting. “I do too! I don’t get the chance to face anyone who knows it very often!”

Eagerly, the young Jedi retrieved his second lightsaber from his belt, activating the second rainbow-hued weapon with a distinct snap-hiss.

He held one blade out horizontally in front of him, the other above his head, again, horizontal. His smile faded, a serious expression overtaking him as he narrowed his eyes on his target.

Without strife, nothing to gain. No lessons without pain. Where there is peace and order, one must unravel the strands and pull at weakness. Mar it, frighten it, bring it to moribund. From the shadows, blossom into strength. Reforged and tempered, stagnation choked out, the hierarchy set in decay, one left with comprehension of unbridled power, eternal lust, and a passion hotter than the heart of a star.

Tir'eivra had been weak from birth, frail, and shunned. Her other half, Osasdii’s Bleeding Willow—Ovegnii’s spirit—was dying. The dark side tore into the fabric of the universe itself, playing it like an instrument. It clawed and clawed, pulling aside the top and middle layer, destroying the pacified weak that were not desperate enough. It found two souls tenebrous enough and fused them into one, just before they were both gone.

Aphotis’s mind dwelled into dreams and visions as her cold eyes set into Ruka’s spirit like frostbite. A cleansing, soothing sadness washed over her, making her tail curl and unfold as if in slow motion. A flux of emotions raced through her heart and mind, cascading into a rhythm that accompanied the song she played with her vibronails. It made her cheeks flush against her mask. .

She had set into motion a similar experience for the Mirialan, one that she could call melancholic nostalgia, but he would likely see it as unpleasant memories. She could judge by the sour, bitter taste and his constant attempts at swallowing it away. Her eyebrows pulled together as vexation riled up.

Does he not appreciate the suffering?

The dark side called to her, setting the nerves in her fingers afire. There was to be more friction. There were individuals present, the top layers of a band of strings—such as Ruka and the young Draca—who were likely born more gifted, better trained, and more experienced than her. A lust for challenges surged through her and replaced any thoughts with pre-calculations for the eventual conflict.

She could barely stifle a snicker as she saw him reach for his weapon. The Sith’s tail rose aggressively, the tip flicking in front of her in a gesture towards him that mimicked an index finger, wagging and telling him, “Not yet.”

Alaisy grit her teeth behind the mask, her eyes darting back to the duel. It looked like the Zabrak was getting warmed up.

Soon.

<@837236610684813342> <@361376035444490240> <@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643>

Absolutely not happening.

Ruka’s expression was somewhere between cool and thunderous, every bit the father nexu poked too much with cubs close. He straightened up while Draca and Sinya continued to spar, his cowl shifting on his shoulders and over his hair.

“Stay here, and give me more thoughts when I’m back,” he instructed Mela and Bril, then began crossing the space around the ring to reach the taunting Sith at a purposeful stride. The Mirialan passed by the watching instructors and former combatants on his way, stopping only once he was pointedly in front of Alaisy, bodily blocking her view of Draca.

“No to him too,” his accented voice was quiet but cutting. “You’re not toying with any of them on my watch, Tir'ievra.” <@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643>

’Kark! How the kanway did he avoid that.’ The Twi’lek’s thoughts began to swirl as she started to believe she was outmatched not only in technique, but in the overall encounter. She returned the second blade to her belt. She didn’t really fight with both lightsabers. It was more of a backup blade that she sometimes used in an improvised attack.

“Do fic a si'mori karsan yelniyo cea y,” Sinya’ni muttered in her native tongue and took a deep, centering breath. The Rylothian could feel the young Jedi’s intensity growing. He seemed to enjoy battle, relish in it even…is that something Jedi approved of? From what she heard, they actively denied any feelings or desires. A weakness that could be exploited? A chink in his hypocritical moral armor?

“Careful now, Jeedai…you would not want to give in to that blood lust too much. Isn’t it against your vows or something?” She focused her mind on his, projecting a vision into his head.

sadness…loneliness…a desolate world torn asunder by war…Draca stands over a pile of dead. He looks down at his rainbow sabers tinged in red and the destruction they wrought. A face…familiar yet vague protrudes from the wreckage. It was the lifeless visage of another young Zabrak….It was Brill’s face–

The Twi-lek waited, lightsaber at the ready, for the next wave of attacks. She hoped to catch him off balance with the mock Force vision but it was hard to tell how well it worked, if at all. <@837236610684813342>

Draca surged forward like a slug from a rifle. Yet, he had barely made it three, large, leaping steps towards his target when he felt…

Something.

Familiar, yet invasive. It all started as a blur. A flash of his life blurring past reimagined in present horrors. His hearts damn near leapt out of his chest when the image of Bril’s face, lifeless, pale and with pupilless eyes stared into the eternal abyss of the Force as everything burned around them. A temple ablaze, a grassland scorching, burning, dying.

It was all too familiar. Iridonia. The bodies, the death of those he loved scattered around him.

This kind of mental intrusion. He’d felt it before and just like then, he was determined to put an end to it.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” The Jedi roared, flushing Sinya’s influence out of his mind completely.

That had caught Sinya by surprise. She was hoping to take advantage and strike whilst the coals were still burning in the recesses of his mind.

Thankfully, her actions had provided just enough time to sidestep him. The Twi'Lek hooked her arm under one of Draca’s shoulders and, using his own momentum against him, hurled the much bigger being over her whilst releasing one lightsaber from his grip.

The lightsaber rolled out of his hand, deactivating.

The Rylothian raised her green blade above her head. This was it! Victory was well within her grasp! She brought her blade down upon the Jedi…

And swiped across the floor, orange sparks hissing from the contact with her lightsaber. Draca had pushed himself off of the ground, spinning mid-air whilst landing on his feet with the grace of a dragonfly.

The Jedi scowled at her, a look of indignant fury plastered on his face. How dare she. How DARE she!

Those memories were wounds she had no right to view!

He held out his hand as Sinya braced herself for what she expected to be a telekinetic blast. Instead, she went wide-eyed when she heard a distinct snap from beside her foot.

Draca’s second lightsaber!

Sinya reacted just in time, leaping like a fish out of water to avoid being cut. The lightsaber flew through the air, eventually landing in the Jedi’s hand.

“I’m dissapointed, Sinya,” his voice was laced with that very discontent. “How do you expect to improve if you do not prioritise using your lightsaber?”

Melissa’s attention was snapped away from Ruka and Bril. Shed never heard Draca speak like that before. Her eyes shifted to Sinya, narrowing slightly. It was just a spar but if she’d truly used messing with his head to gain an advantage that was… cheap. Especially when they were supposed to be learning lightsaber tricks.

Her foot tapped against the floor, not wanting to distract Draca but internally hoping he’d succeed with skill over Sinya.

Aphotis crossed her arms, her tail flicking. “From the sound of it, your little pups are perfectly capable of running into trouble themselves.”

There was a quiet laughter behind her mask, coupled with hisses of air expelling from it as she scanned Ruka from top to bottom.

“Why are you trying to rob them of a chance to evolve? An opportunity to make the most of an otherwise tedious display? To me, it seems you are controlling them, or making an attempt at it,” the Sith scoffed.

Perhaps the Mirialan standing before her was a blessing in disguise, Tir'eivra would have supplanted the Twi'lek’s pride if she had done anything. A lightsaber duel was more of a battle of wits and an exercise in taming the Force to one’s will anyway, the weapon itself a mere tool, not even a particularly practical one anyway.

“What did you really think would happen, Tenbriss?”

<@837236610684813342> <@361376035444490240> <@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643>

Sinya’ni could feel the anger seething from him. Not the reaction she expected. And not a welcome one. Though introspection would have been a better distraction, anger could be useful…just trickier.

“Lightsaber combat is not just about hitting each other with your laser sword. It’s also using your surroundings and creating openings.” She smiled, “Maybe you will learn something as well. Something you won’t learn from a Jeedai.” She slowed her racing heart a bit as she maintained her guard. “I’m not sure why you hate me, but that anger…let it fuel you. Let it amplify your abilities. Sure you’ll feel more tired afterwards, but it’s a worthy trade off.”

She tested his defense with a couple easy strikes. The green ichor of her lightsaber calmed her. She could feel his anger rising at her, but he wasn’t giving in to it. “Just let the anger flow. Why are you holding back? Are you scared of your own emotions?”

The diminutive Rutian decided to demonstrate what she meant by letting her fear and anger flow through her limbs, letting the Force take over her movements. In a blur of red green and blue, she leapt into battle. Rainbow blades arced again green as the Jedi defended the wild attacks. Falling back to his training rather than giving over to the Force, he struggled to keep up, but not for long. His superior conditioning and skill eventually gained the upper hand once more. Forcing the smaller combatant to retreat.

Sinya deflected, bobbed, weaved, sidestepped, twisted, anything to avoid the multi-chromatic blades. As she tired, she started to lose the beat. The ebb and flow of battle was a half step ahead of her movements. She spun by close to Draca as she ducked one of his blades to get behind him; however, her weary feet stumbled over each other, and she tumbled to the ground.

As she rolled over, she saw the Zabrak bearing down on her. Her already oversized eyes seemed to get even bigger. She knew it was over…

The stormtrooper loomed over her. She could taste the dirt of the Rylothian street in her mouth as the shock baton descended. She rolled out of the way but found the other trooper’s boot in her gut.

The fear was palpable as Sinya scrambled out of the way of her opponent and ran out of the arena. She didn’t stop til she was out of the building where she collapsed against the wall and tried in vain to stop hyperventilating.

Amidst the Twi'lek’s attempts to goad Draca into giving into his baser instincts, he heard a message in his mind spolen in Bril’s voice:

This is a load of barnacles.

<@837236610684813342>

Draca hadn’t expected the message. He looked over and, sure enough, Bril was standing there looking at him with the ‘Yeah, I sent it’ face.

It would be rude not to respond.

Agreed. Still, I’m going to go check on her. Keep an eye on things in here. Especially on you know who. I’ll be back shortly.

Sinya was a bit of a mystery. On the one hand, she had goaded him and used the Force to attempt to manipulate him. The young Jedi had practically, in a matter of a few moments, relived the burning of the Jedi Enclave on Iridonia at Anders’ hands. Even if he understood the reasoning, the emotional wound of that day still hurt more than Draca was willing to admit publicly.

She had no right.

And yet…

He couldn’t stop himself. He had to make sure she was OK, no matter how in the wrong she was.

That was the right thing to do.

Sinya left a trail of energy so profound that practically anyone with the Force could follow it. The cool air wafted in his face once he reached the outside of the building. Almost immediately, he heard the harsh, ragged breaths of the Twi'Lek.

“Sinya,” Draca approached cautiously. “Sinya, listen to me. You’re OK. Take slow, deep breaths.”

<@361376035444490240> <@188018248241905664>

Melissa watched, deciding against following to make sure they were both okay and deciding to wait until Draca returned. The fight had been upsetting for both. There was more to this story yet.

She settled in place, closing her eyes for a moment as flickers of colours passed over her vision. It meant little, somethign from the future pursuing her, but intrepting it would be a task for a less chaotic mind.

Ruka’s gaze flicked briefly to the side with the motion of the Twi'lek exciting the arena, tracking Draca’s whereabouts and then darting over to his apprentices in a check before they settled back on Tir'ievra. He had the real threat in getting of him. He trusted that if Draca needed anything more, both his ‘Zabbro’ and girlfriend would have him.

“Tenbriss Ya-ir,” he corrected the sick woman. “I don’t care what you think I’m doing or ‘robbing’ them of. What I know is going to happen is you aren’t going to duel any of them here today.”

Sinya straightened, “I’m fine. Sorry for storming out. I’m just a sore loser. Good job. I’ll come back in soon. I just needed a minute to get over my ego.” The Twi’lek bluffed convincingly but she looked more like a scared little girl than a petulant loser.

She took some deep breaths and composed herself, which was easier now that she had an audience. She causally wiped the moisture from her cheeks…. “Kark, that was a workout. I seem to be sweating.” Her easy smile had returned and so did the mock optimism in her eyes. “Ready to watch another match?” <@837236610684813342>

“Let me observe. Now, why do you not go be a good daddy and sit with your pups?” Aphotis lifted the aristocratic tone in her voice, it carried spite, but there was no hint of deception in her words. This ‘Tenbriss Ya-Ir’ had a penchant for threatening. Something told her that he was not going to let her move or even leave her to observe a duel. In which case, there was only one way this was going to go.

Demanding attention like a martyr. Distraction. Inevitable.

“You will not trust them to take care of themselves, will you? Or do you consider them unable to do so?” The Sith saw no reason to be accommodating, this was her curiosity spilling out and the tone was neither friendly nor hateful, just inquisitive.

Her tail swirled from side to side almost playfully as she shifted her weight to her other leg, but the tip chafed along her high-waisted belt, lined with clipped-on weaponry. Her arms remained crossed over her chest as she watched for a twitch of a single muscle.

“I trust them more than you could know,” Ruka intoned, words thick on his tongue with his accent and the lingering bile of memory. “And their ability has nothing to do with it or you. You are the problem. You’re dangerous. If I could make Anderson or Tyris see sense, I would. Taldryan and the citizens of Kasiya deserve better than you and whatever you’ll do to them.”

Upon seeing the twi'lek Nightsister rush away and Draca hurry after her, Bril briefly shared a look with Mela before stepping forward. Once he was standing within the same platform within which the previous combatants had dueled, he pointed to the man who had gathered them all here.

“Hector Von Ricmore of Clan Vizsla, let us have a keyva of our own,” he announced, gesturing with an upturned palm to the empty space before him. He lightly held the Glory of Galeres’ pommel with his other hand while he waited, his lax demeanor belying his genuine interest in what his fellow Envoy could do. What made him qualified to educate any of them in the art of the blade?

<@476595775187451913>

It means duel, Ruka thought, looking over his shoulder, pointedly not giving his back to Alaisy, but only turning sideways, so he could react to her. He looked over to Bril, meeting the young man’s blue eyes, and attempted a smile that was objectively terrible and squished with stress. “You have this, Bril,” he called in stilted, Mirialan-accented Zabraki.

“The Zabraki word for ‘duel,” he explained, taking the time to unclip Concord from his belt. The saber was a meticulous blend of motifs harkening back to the sabers used by Jedi of the High Republic period, and more modern designs influenced by the metalworkers of Iridonia. “We have a saying back home … don’t drink the whole of the shaman’s elixir until you’ve heard their song. It means that one should harbor some skepticism of another’s wisdom until they’ve given you reason to trust it.”

The Zabrak slid his right foot forward and angled Concord’s emitter to his right. A snapping hiss cut through the silence that briefly took hold following his explanation as his lightsaber’s blade flared to life and casted his robes in a yellow-orange glow, two diagonal quillons rising in complement to the central blade to complete its cross-guard design.

Although he didn’t answer Ruka in response, he did cast him one final glance before looking back to Hector with a mien of icy determination. “Allow me to test if your medicine is worth taking.:

<@476595775187451913>

She was awfully quick to rebound. Draca weighed his options carefully. He could press the issue further, or he could just… let it go. She seemed truthful enough, though, and maybe it was the will of the Living Force talking to him here, but he had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t being completely honest.

Still, no point in pressing an issue that she didn’t want to talk about. He had to respect Sinya’s boundaries.

“Yes. I’m heading back in. Take your time. No rush.”

He smiled at her before disappearing back inside just in time to hear the Zabraki language and Hector’s humorous response to it. He walked over to where most of the others were gathered, taking a position beside Melissa, considering Rula was… preoccupied with Alaisy.

And Bril was now fighting Hector.

He’d only been gone a couple of minutes at most!? Seriously! Why d8d everything happen when he wasn’t around?

“What did I miss?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

<@432543120635461643>

Sinya smiled. “I’ll be right in.” She watched him round the corner before the facade dropped. “Qa ji ercae, Sinya’ni…why now?” Her hand reflexively held her belly where the troopers boot had left its permanent mark on her six year old psyche. The flashbacks were fewer now but they still came.

The orphan’s body trembled as she took a deep breath, as if to shake off the old trama. But it refused to leave. So she plastered her practiced smile on her face and went back into the arena. Hector and the young brash Zabrak were already clashing sabers and Draca was getting reabsorbed into his little group of friends. Alaisy and the mother hen…father hen? Is that a thing? Were seemingly in the middle of a cold war. “Nope…I don’t want any part of that,” she mumbled and found a seat away from the others and settled in to watch the bout.

The Sith did not hide her movements, rather she made them as obvious as she could. Her heels click, clacked as she walked up to him so she could look right over him. “I appreciate the compliments, now let me watch.”

Melissa held her hand out for his, letting out a soft sigh as she glanced over toward Ruka.

“Alaisy is doing something, I don’t know what exactly but Ruka went over to her while you and Sinya were fighting. Aaand Bril challenged Hector, to see if Hector is good with sabers with him teaching us today.” She hesitated, before pressing on, “What happened in there? She did something to you, are you okay..?”

Her eyebrows drew together, concern blatant in her eyes.

Ruka didn’t move when she walked up to him, though he did tense further, his jaw locking as though he was once against staring down a predator in the night. He took one deliberate step back when she stopped, just enough to look up at her when his head craned back, but he made no further move to leave her be to her own devices without a monitor.

“You’re watching.”

Niman, huh? He had only a cursory familiarity with the style, but that was enough to know that it’s reliance on Force techniques to supplement it was something that appealed to him. He had grown by leaps and bounds in his use of Force telekinesis in recent months, after all. And when Hector reached out to pull him closer using the Force, Bril responded in kind with a push of his own with the hopes of disrupting his concentration; the wave of telekinetic energy made Hector falter, but not enough to deter him from attacking.

Silver clashed with molten gold when Bril moved Concord’s blade into a hanging guard to block Hector’s strike which, carrying more force than he’d anticipated, score a shallow cut across his chest. A grunt of pained determination followed, rallying the Zabrak to shunt Hector’s blade aside so he could step into him with a lowered stance and, with his free arm gliding across Hector’s waist, send the Kiffar careening over his lead leg that was now planted behind him. A single half-turn ensured that Bril was once again facing his grounded opponent with Concord’s blade held in a neutral position, hiilt close to his own navel.

“My apologies. I got a little excited,” replied Bril with a sheepish smile, reaching with his offhand to rub the back of his neck. But when Hector reignited his saber, he returned to his stance. “Let’s.”

Hector was showing himself to be a formidable opponent, indeed. His sudden dip into the well of the Dark Side to overtake Bril’s Force push wasn’t missed by the Zabrak’s sharpened senses. After the Force push knocked him airborne, Bril twisted in midair so he could land on his feet a ways away before breaking into a sprint.

Long strides allowed him to cross the distance between them quickly; once there, he sprang into the air like a pouncing vornskr, raising his lightsaber’s blade for an overhead strike that aimed all of his momentum at Hector’s centerline.

His eyes were distant, haunted, like he’d had his worst memories forced upon him once again. That was what it felt like.

Still, he couldn’t let Melissa know. She deserved better. Plus, he couldn’t let Tir'eivra know. Anders had made it very clear to have as minimum contact with her as he could possibly muster.

“I’m fine,” he squeezed her hand in response. “Saw some things I didn’t want to, but its fine. I’m fine. I’m thinking of introducing myself to the other Jedi. Wanna come?”

“Sure.” Melissa agreed, still concerned, seeing the pain in his eyes but… not here.

She could ask again later, when there was less pressure, less unknowns. Less threats. Even if her fight with Alaisy, whenever the day came would go peacefully she’d be stupid to not see the danger the woman could be.

The Rutian watched as the powerful combatants by wailed on each other like barbarians. Dominating each others bodies with the force…’that is a useful idea…wonder if that would work.’ As she ruminated on the aggressive forms being demonstrated, she noticed Draca rejoining the white haired girl…’Echani? Weren’t they extinct?’ Aaaaand now they seemed to be joining the other Jedi. Le sigh…

“I don’t,” answered Bril while performing a quick flourish with his saber, “But part of being a good duelist is knowing how to incorporate other techniques to improve your own style. I must say, I’m impressed. I think Niman will be a powerful addition to my repertoire.”

The pair carefully traversed the outskirts of the simulation field until, keeping an eye on the impressive display by both Hector and Bril whilst avoiding the ever rising conflict between Ruka and Alaisy. Did anyone think that of him when he and Sinya fought?

Guess it was time to find out.

“Hello, again. Miss. Emissary, ma'am. And to you, Miss. Lelina,” the Zabrak bowed slightly out of respect and then gestured to the Echani beside him. “May I introduce Melissa?”

<@645466919415054357> <@339758862406254592>

“Hi, Draca. Good to see you again.” She smiled and nodded to Mela. “Nice to meet you, Melissa. How are you two enjoying the session so far?”

<@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643>

Erinyes’ ears perked briefly at Hector’s mention of Niman, and in particular of Appius. She’d been wondering why someone would’ve dumped so much effort into making that style work, and that explained it.

She couldn’t deny the results, though. Both Hector and his Zabrak opponent—she hadn’t met that one before, but judging by how he’d been tagging along with Ruka, he must’ve been an Arconan—were undeniably skilled. Seeing the Arconan work grappling into his swordplay was a pleasant surprise, and one she’d have to remember for later, in case they sparred.

Although he didn’t recognize the name Appius, Hector’s mention of Anders made his face twitch with restrained emotion. He nodded. “Yes, let’s begin the lesson.”

“Its good to meet you both and its- it has been interesting.” Melissa answered after giving both Lelina and Erinyes a nod of greeting.

Between Draca’s upset and Alaisy looming over the proceedings she’d admittedly been distracted for at least some of all three displays thus far. A small part of her was impatient, ready to fight. Melissa wasn’t quite sure what to do with that part, the seemingly new desire to do so.

“You two sparred well earlier, though I’ll admit Lelina’s use of Soresu took my interest a bit more Miss-” Emissary was a title, what was her name, oh dear- “Uh, Emissary ma'am.”

She echoed Draca’s list, her pale cheeks flushing slightly.

“It should. Lilina’s very good at what she does, and so is Draca. It takes a lot of skill and dedication to make Ataru into a Form that works well on the defence.”

Erinyes could, to use the Jedi cliché, sense the conflict in the young woman. Hrm. Between her affiliation with Draca and having come in at Ruka’s side, Erinyes suspected Melissa was trying to be one of those “good people”. Being around so many people who casually used the Dark Side must’ve been quite the experience.

“You’d do well to learn from both of them.”

<@837236610684813342> <@339758862406254592>

“You ought to take a look at the two yourself, it is quite a show,” the tall Sith said with a mocking tone. “Alas, the sparring itself seems over for now. There is very little that can happen to your pups right now, why do you not settle down?”

Bril listened carefully, cataloguing the information away for later use. His explanation was especially appealing insofar as it gave him another means to end a potential conflict quickly and without relying on his saber as much. He nodded in response to Hector’s request and deactivated his saber while entering a bladed stance.

“Yeah, ay, why don’t I?”

And he did indeed turn to watch, directly next to her and a half step back, where he could see her hands and tail as well as her masked face.

Lilina inclined her head respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you, Melissa. This style was developed by my master during the Jedi Purge. It was inspired by historical martial artists that could turn a simple stick into a defensive wall.” <@432543120635461643> <@645466919415054357> <@837236610684813342>

There was a loud hiss that came from her mask as her tail pulled away from Ruka as far as it could, giving him a bit of a snubbing gesture.

“Do you know of one called Appius Wight, Tenbriss Ya-ir?” Aphotis’s voice had a hint of pride in it.

“He was one that utilized a form just like Niman, a similar application, just flavored differently,” she did not care if he was listening. Her analytic mind was picking up every move with care, while her voice kept her memory receptive as she wagged her tongue and spilled out words. “His fear still lingers on my pallet, like it happened yesterday. I should remember to thank him if we meet again.”

Her lightwhip would be effective at giving this style of fighting a good attempt. In a way it was similar to Juyo and her habit of drenching her opponent in trepidation.

The urge to do battle felt tangible, making her jaws hurt as if she had been chewing on something for hours. She kept count of the group, still hoping that she could find one isolated from influence at some point.

<@837236610684813342>

Ruka didn’t answer her question. Instead he just stood rigidly cool next to her, watching his apprentices – Bril’s tutelage, and Mela and Draca by extent speaking to Liliana and Erinyes, good – while Sinya kept to herself on the other side. He’d have to make sure Bril kept an eye on her when he was finished; he trusted the Zabrak would spot any outside clues of cruel mental torture Tir'ievra might inflict on the Twi'lek.

“You should rinse out you damn mouth, then.” His tone was icy. “You going to starve today. I’m not leaving your side. I see a hint of any tricks on anyone outside that arena, I will stop you.”

Draca didn’t immediately know who this Appius was, but he sounded dissapointing.

Wait, wasn’t he the Supreme Chancellor of the Taldryan Republic before Cassandra? The guy that went missing? What did they call him again?

Mandaboo?

He shook the thought from his thoughts, instead deciding to address Lilina’s comment.

“Your master taught you well,” the young Jedi’s spare hand grazed his own saberstaff. “It took me a while to adjust a sabetstaff to Ataru, but A-”

He stopped himself from saying Anders’ name out loud, lest ill feelings towards his surrogate father come back to bite him.

“My… Mentor is a really good teacher. He hated the idea of a saberstaff, or anything outside of a single blade, but I have my ways of convincing him.”

It was then he realised he… actually didn’t know how Melissa fought. They hadn’t discussed it. It hadn’t been necessary.

Until now, he supposed.

<@432543120635461643> <@645466919415054357> <@339758862406254592>

“My first lightsaber was a staff, so I didn’t need to adapt, this is the way I learned to fight. The extra blade makes it easier to parry attacks from a range of angles with minimal motion. It’s a useful defensive tool so Soresu fits well.”

Bril nodded. Although Force Choke was an ability he’d yet to use himself, he agreed with Hector’s assessment of its value in ending conflicts without further violence. “A powerful tool, indeed,” he concurred, “I’m always looking for more ways to supplement my saber techniques with the Force, so Niman will mesh well with that.

Melissa considered that for a moment, her hand going tk the shadow sheathed lightsaber on her hip. It was short. Had she picked the wrong weapon?

“Would you say you need that length for Soresu? Or at least the length of a typical saber. I use a shoto lightsaber.”

<@645466919415054357> <@837236610684813342>

Lilina activated one blade of her lightsaber, creating a full length blade, holding the hilt with two hands. “I’d like to show you something. Using the middle of your blade, push against the end of mine.”

Melissa did so, and easily displaced Lilina’s blade.

“Now, try the same, but use the tip of your blade against the middle of mine.”

In this configuration, Lilina’s lightsaber was like a wall, strong and immovable.

“Defence is all about leverage. Your blade is weakest far from the hand. The further the contact is from your hand, the easier the opponent can manipulate your blade. For the fundamentals of Soresu, a short blade is all you need. But,” she glanced over at Erinyes, remembering her advice. “A longer blade is useful for counter attacks.”

<@432543120635461643> <@645466919415054357>

Melissa glanced between them, nodding slowly. That made sense. She shut the saber off, the blue beam leaving a slight impression of light in her vision even moments after it faded.

“That makes sense. I try to be more on the defence anyway so that wroks well.”

Though… well. The Echani quietened, considering. The future wasn’t exactly peaceful. Maybe she’d do well to find a style that’d allow her to counter?

Draca observed, blinking, locking away the mental notes for the future. It would certainly be useful if he ever came across it.

Knowledge is power, as they always say. Melissa knew Soresu. He had no idea as to her skill level, but hey! At least he knew now. Learning something about his girlfriend, regardless of how trivial, was worth something.

Go, Draca!

“I do have a question,” Draca pondered. “What drew you all to your combat styles?”

<@645466919415054357> <@432543120635461643> <@339758862406254592>

“My master taught me how to fight. I’ve added bits on as I’ve learned more, but the foundation is from her.”

The solitary azure Twi’lek was surprised that Hector suggested force choke, but she agreed with its utility. The small grouping of Jedi and their whelps seemed to be doing a separate lesson. She couldn’t make out what that was all about, but it was distracting from the main lesson.

She rubbed her knuckles absently as a phantom pain from years of pain compliance reminded her to pay attention to the teacher.

Erinyes was thoughtful for a moment, even pausing for a sip from her flask. “It was a rejection of my past. I started learning Makashi in a different life—a much more restrained life. Juyo and the Sith Code are my ways of fighting against that.” <@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643>

“I.. have only in the last year had access to any knowledge about the Force, never mind lightsabers. Soresu seemed a good place to start, especially as I’m not really a fighter.” Melissa answered, quiet but confident. “With the fight against the children of mortis coming so soon after getting here, it just worked out as the safest option.”

<@645466919415054357> <@339758862406254592>

“What about you, Draca?”

Draca pondered this for a moment. “Anders wanted to get a decent night’s sleep and needed to tire me out.”

Melissa snorted, raising her hand to cover her mouth and giggling into it.

He loved hearing her laugh. At least he could do something right that didn’t require the Force to use. “In seriousness, he had me practicing the basic cadences for years. He wanted me to be able to perform them in my sleep before I moved on to more advanced techniques.”

Erinyes also laughed at Draca’s admission. She hadn’t spent much time around the young man, but she had no problem believing Anders would teach a hyperactive kid an acrobatic lightsaber form to put his energy to good use… or that he’d force Draca to endure hours upon hours of training.

“Honestly, I’m amazed he didn’t just decide you were going to learn Makashi.” Draca’s hesitation to criticise his mentor had piqued her interest.

<@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643>

With Ricmore seeming mostly done instructing Bril to choke people out – the Mirialan hadn’t unclenched his jaw in the entire hour and boy was it starting to hurt in his eyeballs and neck – Ruka decided to at least redirect attention away from his apprentices and maybe get something out of this.

“So, Ricmore,” the Master called down to the simulation field, raising his voice just enough to be heard but not shout at them. He was still rigid next to Tir'ievra, and fully intent on sticking to her like a ✨glop grenade.💇‍♀️ “Would you recommend tricks like that and Niman to combat someone using a lightwhip? With Djem So, Juyo…or mental powers like Terror? You said those break Soresu. How would you break that kind of style?”

<@476595775187451913> <@188018248241905664>

“So don’t get close,” the Mirialan surmized, not sounding particularly glad that Ricmore didn’t have an experienced answer. It wasn’t his fault, of course; just disappointing. “And overwhelming force. Preferably at range. And with Jar'Kai…” He lifted one hand, and and amethyst blade floated from his belt and hovered above it. Then the other an emerald dagger.

And another such dagger, off to the right.

The sapphire gladius suspended overhead.

And finally his lightsaber, inactive, but the sword-styled hilt hovering and ready to fall, weapons all arranged in a patiently spinning arc.

His hands dropped and folded behind his back, but the weapons didn’t.

“Perhaps Tir'ievra could give you the chance to try fighting it, if she’s feeling charitable.”

“How’s…” Ruka began, flailing in the tide of acceptable social behavior, the moors of protocols in which he no longer had any place lost to him. What was he supposed to ask about, when he wasn’t managing trade deals between her personal businesses and Arcona, or discussing mutual aid between them and Taldryan, when she wasn’t Proconsul anymore and neither was he but where he’d been fired with threat she was now a Councillor, the Emissary for all the Brotherhood? Hi, how’s your day? How’s it going? They were in a kriffing training simulator where he’d been squaring off with the most dangerous snake here for the past hour like the eternal “buzzkill” he was…

Oh frang how long had it been since he actually said ‘how?’

“…is…your…saber. Day. DAY. Your time. Here?” Ruka sighed, rubbing his face at the end.

Bril coughed and spoke up with the hopes of translating a bit for his noticeably frazzled master. Leaning closer to Erinyes, he said, “I think he means to ask how you’ve been enjoying your time here so far.”

<@645466919415054357>

“Very nice to meet you all. Thank you for letting me join in your little side class.” Sinya’ni offered a shallow curtsy before stepping to the side furthest away from Draca and Ruka. She already managed to muck up things with them, maybe it will go better with the rest of them…’it was easier in plagueis where everyone was out to get you. How do people navigate these things?’ she mused silently as she watched Ruka also flounder in the weird social quagmire. She smiled realizing she wasn’t alone.

“Everyone’s welcome here. The variety keeps things interesting.” Honestly, Sinya didn’t seem like the type who would have trouble fitting in with a group. She was clearly handling the situation with all due grace.

Unlike Ruka.

Did you ask Cora how his saber is when you met? Erinyes left the quip unspoken and turned a smile at Ruka and Bril that was (hopefully) more reassuring than mischievous. “It’s been good. Busy. Lots of travelling. I might stop by Selen again soon, actually. How about you and Cora? I heard you were a big help looking after people during the blizzard on Kasiya. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

<@244244163002892288> <@1056685516441006091>

The Mirialan’s gaze dropped at the mention of Kasiya, a slight cringe and heaviness to him, eternally horrible at accepting thanks. “I did what I could, ay. Everyone did. Especially these two.” He gestured at Bril and Draca. “And Ashen basically saved the planet, so…” Ruka shrugged stiffly, pressing on. “Cor’s better now I’m up around again. He’d love to see you, you’re welcome for dinner anytime.”

“He was only able to due to you holding the blizzard back for so long in the first place.” Melissa commented. Between Draca and Bril and just reading the news reports, she’d gotten reasonably informed about what had happened that day.

Draca had remained silent up to that point, absorbing both the people, their comments, and the tension. It was a skill that, admittedly, he wasn’t the best at. Anders often made it look like child’s play, but then that was what was required.

Then the talk of the blizzard. The start of a whole series of stupid decisions that spiralled out of control. Arguing with Bril, failing to help in any meaningful way, fighting Nora, and don’t even get him started on everything with Alaisy herself.

Anders had told him to stay away from her, and if there was any confrontation, to inform him at once.

Made sense.

“I should have done better.”

The words left his lips as little more than a mumble, barely audible. His grip on Melissa’s hand had loosened ever so slightly, but enough to be noticed.

“If Minnie were here, she’d tell me that I need to follow my own advice but you need to know that we did what we could and we made a difference. Remember that little girl we saved? Helped her get back to her parents? She doesn’t think you could have done better.”

“Ashen saving a planet? That’s new.” She snorted. “Sounds like you’re a good influence on these kids, though. And I’d love to come for dinner sometime. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to bring.”

Ruka was saved from mumbling his way into the floorboards at Melissa’s comment by Draca’s own self-deprecating. And Bril gave an excellent point to jump on, too.

“Bril is right, Draca. Believe me, and this is something I’ve had to deal with over and over again…you can’t save everyone,” he told the other young Zabrak prodigy, no relation. “I know that’s gonna feel like a failure each time and nothin anybody say gonna really, deep down, change that…but remember the ones you did save. That’s a good place to hold on to.”

Then he shot a glance at Bril and Erinyes. “Sounds good,” he settled on about dinner, mindful of the conversation mostly looping around their group. He looked to Sinya. “Maybe if you’re ever on Selen, we can show you some hospitality too.”

<@361376035444490240> <@837236610684813342> <@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357>

His lips creased into a flat line on his face. The words were pleasant, reassuring, though there was always that flicker of doubt that existed in the back of his mind. The scene from the mansion in Eastbrook replayed in his mind over and over, Alaisy dodging his lightsaber with an ease he had only ever experienced from Anders. Yes, Draca had defeated one Sith that day, perhaps saving many, but she had still killed, and he couldn’t prevent it. Who was to say Alaisy wouldn’t take advantage like Nora did? What if he wasn’t strong enough to stop her next time? What if…

Breathe, Draca.

Live in the moment, not in the past as dwelling on what has been could force mistakes in the future. He kept his mouth shut, breathing slowly and steadily through his nostrils.

When was this next fight meant to start anyways?

The conversation turned dark as always. Those who she failed to save outnumbered those she had by the dozens. The face of a man begging for help, chained heading for a trial by combat. She had no time for him, if she helped him, the others would only see weakness. So instead, she was mean to him…the next time she saw him, he was hiding in the arena while his friends and comrades ripped each other apart. He was the last man standing, but that wasn’t enough. The guards ended his life anyway… could I have stopped it? No…of course not…nothing could have changed that outcome–Oh! Someone is addressing me. Kark, what are they asking… “That sounds lovely, Ruka. I am a fan of food. Though, you’ll have to forgive my manners. I eat like a starving orphan in a sausage factory.”

Ruka offered her a friendly smile. His awkwardness was rapidly evaporating in the face of his caretaking demeanor kicking back into gear, between the general air Sinya had of troubled feelings and admissions of betrayal to the way Draca was currently, obviously struggling with something, his encouragements not quite reaching.

“Believe me,” he began, kindly but with an undercurrent of something tired, “I get starving. You can eat much as you want in our house messy as you gonna. Bite your ice cream, use your hands, spicy or nah spicy, we don’t care. Just gonna feed ya, ay?”

Then his gaze switched to Draca’s white knuckles, and he tried to think of some way to cleverly address him, like Cora would, but nothing came to mind, except…

But Tir'ievra was right there…

Then again, she was about to be busy tangling with Ricmore. There probably wasn’t a better time.

“Draca,” he began, “you seem like you’re still raring to go. I dunno what I can teach you, but if you want to…”

The Mirialan waved at one of the other modular arenas, opposite where they stood from Hector and Alaisy’s.

<@837236610684813342>

’bite ice cream…? How else would you eat it?’ Sinya’ni kept her musings to herself and merely smiled and nodded to Ruka.

As the conversations continued, Bril had – notably – stopped talking. Content to leave room for others to speak for the time being, and nowhere near close to being comfortable with the presence of the Nightsister who had so brazenly entered his mind not that long ago, he took a step backward and followed his arms. Seeing Ruka and Draca spar would be interesting.

Draca perked up, not only because he really needed to let go, but because it was Ruka of all people. The man figuratively, and perhaps literally, told a natural disaster to go frack itself. Truth be told, Draca admired him and not because he was maybe kinda sorta wanting to be in his good books for Meli, but because he was genuinely powerful and a good man.

However…

The young Zabrak was also acutely aware that Melissa had not had a turn yet.

“Who says we need to learn anything?” Draca said with a poignant smile. “We could always just have a friendly spar? But Meli hasn’t had a go yet, I don’t want to steal a turn from her.”

<@432543120635461643>

Aphotis raised her shoulders in a shrug. She would be willing, it sure would beat standing here.

“Why not? My claws itch for a spar.”

She could learn new things by observing and then horrendously failing at it in practice, or she could hone her skills viscerally. Besides these pups needed to know she wasn’t all bark and no bite.

Regardless of what Hector would answer, she was already warming up to the fight, her tail almost showing excitement in its movement. <@476595775187451913> <@244244163002892288>

With his point hopefully made, Ruka’s weapons all returned swiftly to their places in a symphony of crystalline clinks, him not even twitching a muscle or needing to look. Only once they were away did he gesture at Bril, nodding towards the gathering Mela had made with Draca, Erinyes and Liliana. Join them…

Though that left out one.

“I’ll be watching,” he informed Tir'ievra again, glance sharp at her tail, before he turned and strode towards the lone Twi'lek that had snapped at them – and made her own assumptions – earlier.

The Mirialan stopped a good couple feet away, slouching some, and his tone was parsecs friendlier to her than it had been to the shiny Sith. “Hey. Know Draca checked on you, but just wanted to be sure. You okay? You can come hang with us if you want. I know I’m, ay,” he gestured to all of him, cringing, “not…great, and kriff, and you think we judgin’ with aint no reason, even though we got reason– anyway, Melissa and Bril are really, really great, and General Erinyes is pretty cool, so if you wanna, you can like, talk to them. I won’t even bother you no more.”

<@361376035444490240> <@1056685516441006091> <@188018248241905664>

Metallic click, clacking rang through the halls like spurs as Aphotis strutted away from the observatory. Her tail made a nasty pointing gesture with its tip at Ruka, rising back to Tir'eivra and then defiantly back at the Mirialan in slow-motion.

“Glance all you want, there is plenty to see.”

A loud exasperated sigh escaped her mask as she walked by the others.

Another time then, there will be ample opportunity.

“Appreciated. On my way Hector.”

<@244244163002892288> <@476595775187451913>

Sinya’ni smiled as she looked up at the green skined, hulking male. He looked exactly like the type of male she tried to avoid. All muscly with intense purple eyes. The tattoos did a poor job of hiding all his scars.

Despite his friendly demeanor, this was a hardened warrior with a darkened aura. He seemed a bit too dark to be a Jedi…but he had the air of self-righteousness and hero complex down pat. He was acting friendly, however; and was unlikely to try anything inappropriate in front of all these witnesses.

The blue Rylothian did her best to show subdued deference to the the geriatric Mirialan. The last thing she needed was another fight. “Thank you, sir. It was very kind of you to check on me. I’m fine, though. Just a sore loser. Sorry for my outburst. I get a little emotional sometimes,” she lied, playing into the assumed chauvinism she had come to expect from his kind. “I would love to join your group, but I’m a bit shy. So…don’t expect a lot of conversation from me.”

Even when the war orphan stood, the elder dwarfed her by a foot. Her hard life visible only behind her eyes and in her stunted growth. She gently set her hand on his forearm to let him lead the way.

If he hadn’t spent the last almost four years as a Proconsul, getting called sir would’ve made him cringe into the decking. As it was, Ruka managed not to flinch, his small smile just looking a little sicker.

The rest of what she was saying, though, and how she was saying it, mostly, batting eyes and saying she was shy and all, were a quick pile of red flags dumped over his head.

Yeah, nah. He knew shy, he was shy, this wasn’t that. He’d seen this kind of trick before, and from better actors too. And shittier ones. As if his mama hadn’t liked to play helpless and confused when he caught her with bottles in the house – right equal to the times she was so drunk she was helpless, out of her mind, confused, and mean. And then the Brotherhood, where every franging body played games with people.

But where once he might have told her off, he’d learned over that same time that some people just didn’t know how else to act. And it wasn’t right to treat them different because of it. I’ll never turn my back on people who need me, his husband has once said, and it was still true, over and over again.

So when she put her hand on his arm, he stiffened, as much from expecting some trick as from not being comfortable with the touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, the Mirialan’s expression turned more from smile to grimace, and he clicked his tongue.

“Ya don’t gotta be all like that, ay. I’m not gonna hurt you or anything. Okay? You don’t actually wanna join us, you really don’t gotta, I’ll kriff off. And please don’t call me sir. My name’s Ruka. You’re Sinya, ay?”

After Ruka gestured for him to join Melissa and the others, he didn’t immediately step to where they were gathered. Instead, he watched his master first converse with Hector, keenly watching the ease with which he levitated his weapons around him with the Force. It was a level of fine control and mastery that he envied but knew that he would one day acquire through diligent training. It wasn’t difficult to recognize what he was doing — not-so-subtly baring his teeth in warning to the Sith who derived some twisted satisfaction from toying with them both. She’d be wise to take that warning to heart.

Ruka moved to the twi'lek Nightsister, next. Why he had taken an interest in her after her misjudgments and butting in was beyond him, but he observed, nonetheless. Although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, he did pick up on Sinya’s subtle intent to deceive and, as usual, Ruka’s desire to help everyone he came across.

He clicked his teeth before turning to where Melissa and the others stood. Once there, he nodded to the ones he knew, and gave a more formal bow of his head to both Erinyes and Liliana.

“General,” he began, addressing Erinyes first, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Then to Liliana. “Your skills with a saberstaff are impressive. You both are. Gave me plenty to think about later.”

<@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643> <@837236610684813342> <@645466919415054357>

“Likewise.” Erinyes offered a friendly nod to the Zabrak. Spending time at diplomatic functions had gotten her used to acting chummy with people despite having no idea who they were. “I take it you’re one of Ruka’s gang?”

<@837236610684813342> <@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643>

Bril nodded. “One of his students, yes. I’m Bril Teg Arga.”

“Oh! No, I do want to join in.” The tiny Twi’lek was slightly taken aback that the green elder picked up on her hesitation. “I’m just not comfortable around others. It’s hard to trust when you’ve been left or betrayed by everyone you’ve known.” Realizing that flirting and deception wasn’t going to work on Ruka, she switched tactics to tactical honesty. Hoping she hadn’t just ruined any chance of getting along with the powerful warrior. Lucky this was only a training camp and not an operation, she’d have already blown it. Aleister’s cruel laughter intruded into her mind at the thought of her failure. She could still turn this around…he will not win again. Her face hardened slightly as she fought off the demon of masters past.

“You seem very protective of your friends. I hope someday I can find such loyalty in a friend. I’m sorry if I offended you.” She made brief eye contact to judge his reaction but quickly turned her face down towards the path in front of them. She breathed deep but quietly to slow her heartbeat without drawing attention to her anxiety.
“Yes, my name is Sinya’ni, but most non-Rylothians call me Sinya.”

<@244244163002892288>

“Nice to meet you, Bril. You seem pretty handy with a lightsaber yourself. Ruka must be a good teacher.”

The zabrak’s lips pulled into a smile, and he glanced back in Ruka’s direction. “Yes, he is,” he said proudly before turning back to Erinyes. “My ancestors have blessed me with the opportunity to study a handful of teachers who were all great in their own way. More than I deserve, really.”

Whether intentionally manipulative or not, the Twi'lek’s explanation, if she was hoping for sympathy, worked. Ruka’s expression immediately crumpled into one of concern and – to anyone who knew him – fatherly tendencies. His broken brows divoted deeply, his tone turning softer but engaging. “Hey, ay, it’s okay…I get that. I really do, ay, and i ain’t even had it half as bad as so many folks I’ve met.” A little anger slipped into his tone, thinking of Siva, and others, and he quelled it quickly. “You don’t gotta trust us, ay? And you ain’t gotta say sorry to me.” He matched his stride to her shorter ones, so he stayed beside her. “Do you like prefer Sinya? I can call ya Sinya'ni,” he tried to be careful saying it, though his own Mirialan accent tripped it up where hers didn’t, “if that’s better.”

Oh, great. The Zabrak was one of those humble ones.

“Where did you learn your grappling skills? I don’t see many people apply those in lightsaber duels.”

“Shockboxing,” he answered, “I fought in a few professional circuits prior to joining the Brotherhood. I technically learned all of my hand-to-hand combat back home on Iridonia, but everything was honed once I started fighting pro.

Using it in lightsaber combat has been a relatively new venture, but it’s been working very well. Most don’t expect you to grab them in the midst of a duel.”

“Ahh. I can see how that would catch people off-guard.” She paused for a sip from her flask. “Have you ever had someone anticipate it before?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, no,” he replied, “But if they did, I trust my training enough to know that even if they know what I intend to do, they won’t be able to stop it.”

“I hope you’re right, for your own sake. Mistakes in lightsaber duels can get messy quickly.”

Although he didn’t say anything, Bril stared back at Erinyes with an expression that conveyed his appreciation for the severity of her words.

“And yourself? You must have trained extensively to be capable of what you displayed here today.”

“I started using a lightsaber in my early teens, and continued it when I came to the Brotherhood. It’s been… longer than I care to think about.” Erinyes chuckled. “I’ve made lightsaber combat my job for most of my life.”

The Twi’lek flinched slightly at the attempt to say here Rylothian name. “Sinya is fine. Or Sinya Ani if you need to differentiate it from others. Believe it or not, Sinya is a fairly common name where I was born.” She looked up at the grizzled fighter and saw the expression soften. She relaxed a bit and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t completely turned him off.

She studied his face a bit closer. Maybe he’s not as old as she first thought. Stress could age a person more than time sometimes. It was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure he was closer to her own age than she had thought.

She laid her head gently against his bicep as they finished walking. She straightened and let go of his arm when they came to a stop by the others. She smiled a little and lifted her hand in a gentle wave to the group.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” he replied, “I would love to train with you some time. I’m sure there’s a lot I could learn from you.”

Sensing that Ruka was approaching again, he turned his head to see … him walking next to Sinya, who had her head on his bicep.

What.

She waved and Bril stared. Then, he gave Ruka a skeptical look.

<@244244163002892288> <@361376035444490240>

The Mirialan noted the flinch and mumbled an apology for his pronunciation, adding, “Sinya, then, ay.”

And it was fine, except then she like, put her head on his arm, like Cora would, and uh.

The sound that left Ruka was best described as a strangled cat, or a squawk, or a squeak. Anything in that general reee range.

His cheeks muddied even as his spine snapped straight. The look he gave back to Bril screamed it’s not what you think help while also trying to convey be cool, be nice.

The second she leaned away, the Mirialan gently extracted his arm in a courtly move and took a step sideways, also lifting his hand at the others.

“Hey, Erinyes,” he greeted, coughing to clear his throat of the awkward, “Good to see you. Ma'am,” that was to Liliana. “Melissa, Bril, this is Sinya. You already met Draca…ay, this is Sinya. Asked her to join us. nobody should be alone.”

sigh she’d done something wrong again but wasn’t sure what. Ruka had pulled away politely but suddenly after making some unintelligible noise. And the look the zabrak gave her confirmed it was something she did that caused the reaction. This is a karkin minefield. She smiled at the others while Ruka made introductions, hoping whatever it was would be forgotten and they could just move on.

“Good to see you too, Ruka.” She nodded to her chromatic opposite, and really looked at him for the first time since she’d arrived. The Mirialan seemed more… worn? Weathered? He had the complexion of a lifelong farmers, one he definitely hadn’t had when they’d last seen each other. Erinyes knew Ruka had flexed his powers to protect people during the freak blizzard on Kasiya. Was this backlash from that?

Back in the present, the Emissary offered a smile to the new arrival. “Hi, Sinya. I’m Erinyes.” <@837236610684813342> <@244244163002892288> <@339758862406254592> <@432543120635461643>

The Mirialan noted the redirection, getting a little smile for Draca’s care for Mela and how he perked up, and looked to the Echani.

“Are you bored of our katas yet, Melissa?”

Though he and Cora had been training her in the Force and in saber basics over the last year plus since their visions had called them to each other, Melissa wasn’t particularly interested in any three of the styles they specialized in. She wanted to learn from other people. See other people. Get away from her nagging parents, as it were.

They’d also never done more than teaching, with rigorous katas and very basic sparring, practicing powers, mediation. A lot of focus on their visions. Melissa wasn’t a combatant and wasn’t interested in it either so much as defense, like Cora did – the Pantoran was not so secretly eager to maybe have a student more his own. But that was another matter. Even in the war she had been in the support ranks while Ruka had been in the vanguard and command. To date, she’d never seen him fight.

Not that he intended to show that here, by any means.

The tall Sith aligned herself to face the white-skinned Kiffar, letting a hiss of air expel from her mask as she rolled her shoulders. With snaps and clicks a latex glove slid over the grip and settled between the metal disc hilt of Besotted. Aphotis gently push-pulled at the belt clip for it to unfasten from her high-waisted belt.

“How courteous of you to ask, Hector. There is no reason to dally, you likely know how a Sith fights!”

She bent her knees slightly and shoved a boot forward, leaning on the front tip of the platform. With a loud clack she brought down her bladed heel and with a warped growl, a crimson lash burst out of the helix-shaped light-whip emitter. Her tail rose as she flicked the weapon down, causing superheated plasma to sizzle against the flooring.

Pent-up frustration was being siphoned into each digit within her claws before she pushed off of the simulation tiles and got into a sprint.

While they waited for Melissa’s answer, Ruka’s gaze flicked to the fight. He and Bril met eyes, nodding, and there was silent agreement to watch how this played out. A thought occurring, he summoned the holocam out of his pack and stared at it a moment. Recording this would probably be smart. But it wasn’t right without having asked beforehand, even if he had no doubt everything in here was watched and recorded by the Brotherhood, with or without the participants" knowledge.

Cerulean light lit up her reflective suit as sparks ran over her arm. Each nail on her left hand folded into a triangle and turned white-hot as Tir'eivra channeled her hatred towards a single point. <@476595775187451913>

“I think I’d like a chance to spar properly, it’d help me see if what I’ve learned of Soresu is sticking.” Melissa answered, not entirely sure if someone was offering or if they were just commenting in general. Plus there was an active spar ongoing.#

Ruka’s brows furrowed. “If you want to spar, we can spar. Better while she’s distracted and can’t observe us.”

“If you’re worried she’ll pick up your tricks, I’ll spar with Mela instead. It’ll be a good opportunity for her to fight different styles instead of getting too comfortable.”

<@432543120635461643>

The Mirialan nodded to that, giving a grateful look, though the troubled sting between his shoulder blades lingered. He tried to ignore the sudden, crushing doubt rearing its head.

‘Properly?’ Did that mean she thought he wouldn’t spar her “right?” She didn’t trust him? Didn’t consider their other lessons proper? A waste of her time? What was he doing so wrong, that she was more eager to fight someone like Tir'ievra who would actually hurt her, or Erinyes? Why was he wrong wrong wrong not good enough–

Stop it, idiot! he told himself. This was not the time or place for one of his damn anxious thought spirals. He’d brought them to learn. From other people, specifically, because he and Cora couldn’t teach them everything and this was a good thing.

Minus the snake in the room, anyway.

“Whatever works,” he encouraged, aiming for light, knowing it would be strangled. “Appreciate it, Erinyes.”

“I wasn’t sure who was offering either way so that works.” Melissa laughed lightly, sheepishly. Pink flushed her cheeks.

<@645466919415054357> <@244244163002892288>

Just like that, her sheepish laugh had the mean voices quieting more. The buzzing under his skin stayed, and wouldn’t go away for like at least half an hour unless he used the Force to soothe his body, but the relief was fast and hard.

Ruka shrugged, then quarter bowed. “After you, my ladies.”

“You’re quite the gentleman. Cora’s been a good influence.” Erinyes grinned and led Mela to the other half of the simulation area from where Alaisy and Hector were duelling. Even as she stepped into the ring, she stretched her Marauder’s senses out across the simulated battlefield to allow her to track the other pair’s movements without directly watching them. It wouldn’t do to have them run Mela over while the young lady was trying to practice.

“It’s been a long time since I actually taught Soresu. You might need to refresh my memory.”

<@432543120635461643>

Bril watched with an unflinching expression as the sparks of lightning exploded from Alaisy’s hand, too focused on the duel to notice the conversations happening around him.

He watched. The lightning flashed in his peripheral vision and his head snapped towards the action, eyes widening when he saw Hector be struck by a violent surge of Force Lightning.

The amount of time he’d had similar blasts directed at him. Oh,how he’d had to learn to defend against it.

Draca had to trust that Hector at least understood what he was getting into.

There was no use in interrupting. Both combatants had agreed to it, but that didn’t mean he had to watch. Melissa had a sparring partner in Erinyes. It would be interesting watching her. He’d never seen her fight before.

Maybe Ruka’s offer was still on the table? Might as well get some practice in.

Only one way to find out.

He wordlessly followed after the Miralian.

<@244244163002892288>

Seeing as Draca was trailing him instead of watching Mela fight, as he’d expected him to, Ruka took down into another area opposite the two pairs sparring. It was a good thing this place was big. Almost like Tyris and co had designed it for people to fight with superpowers or something.

“So… You looked a little shook up there. When we was talking. Wanna talk about it? Or wanna just,” he gestured at the young man’s staff hilt.

Melissa glanced toward the ongoing fight, wincing as lightning crackled across the space but it was far enough away. For now at least, hopefully it’d stay that way.

“I’ve been practising a lot at home, the holovids are quite useful.” the Echani shifted, centering herself and alighting the Shoto Saber in front of her, her chest angled away and her other arm resting behind her back. “How long have you used Soresu for? It was Makashi you mentioned earlier.”

“Oh, I learned Soresu ages ago, but I don’t use it very often. Staying on the defence isn’t really my style.” She slipped one lightsaber into her hand and ignited it, shifting on the balls of her feet to loosen up. “But, you’ll learn better if you do it in your own terms, right?”

Maybe to Ruka’s surprise, Draca actually frowned, the corners of the Zabrak’s lips curving downwards.

“It’s…” Draca stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. “Complicated, but I’m not going to wail on you, sir. That’s not fair, but I am up for a friendly spar, if that’s OK with you? I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I’m offerin’, Draca. Your dad and Meshita isn’t the only one looking out for you anymore, you know. You’ve drooled on our couch and emptied out our cryo. So complicated? That’s okay, ay. Anytime.”

So said, he lifted his saber, igniting the blade. A cerulean beam bright and shining as the sky erupted from the knightly sword hilt.

“Spar or wail,” he said, trying a different tact, “you’ll have to hit me first. Come on.”

A wince, completely visible. Damn it all, why could he not hide his emotions? Anders practically made it look easy in comparison to him. Meshita’s death still bothered him. He had grown fond of the Mandalorian, and the feeling if her fading into the Force like a flame had been snuffed from a candle was something he would never get used to, no matter how often he had felt it in his short life.

Ruka didn’t know. It wasn’t his fault.

Draca took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, centering himself. Breathe. In, and out. in, and out.

The young Jedi held a hand out in front of him, gesturing for the hilt to detach from his belt and hover in front of him. He clasped one hand around it, then another, adjusting the weapon to its stun setting as the rainbow blades shot out of both ends of the hilt.

His eyes snapped open, hardening.

“Challenge accepted.”

He leapt forwards towards Ruka like a blaster bolt fired from a rifle.

The smell of ozone and scorched flesh. The raw Force arcing like electricity from her fingertips… The small Rutian flexed her fingers to dissipate the phantom pain from her hands and banished the memory from her mind, but the ache in her heart remained. Draca’s wince caught her eye. It was a welcome distraction from her own demons.

Draca was on him like greased thunder. Ruka was, admitted, considerably smaller in stature, forcing the Jedi to swing low towards the Miralian’s knees.

<@244244163002892288>

“I.. maybe?” Melissa wasn’t sure. She hadn’t had true combat with a lightsaber. During the war she’d relied on the Force alone, not wanting to kill. The cold shadow of death over the Etheral realm had been enough for her.

“Its why I want to try.”

Melissa watched Erinyes carefully. What she had seen earlier rang a distant familiar bell in lieu with flickers of the future. Moments she’d gleaned at some point or another.

Erinyes would be fast. Faster than she was, really. She wouldn’t get many chances to attack in return, not at first… her defense would have to be strong. To use as little energy as possible, to force Erinyes to make a mistake by being immovable. This wouldn’t be the first bat, and if she was to try out the full length saber later, she needed to conserve her strength.

Nervous as she was, there was something exciting about this. More so than the careful measured spars she’d had before. She pressed her toes against the metal floor.

The sudden grief that wracked Draca’s face and his flinch told Ruka he’d just majorly kriffed up somewhere, but he didn’t know where. Was Anderson, godsdamn him, okay? Meshita? Had he reminded him of being an orphan, for Ashla’s sake? It definitely wasn’t just the reaction of a teenage boy that was convinced he had to be tough and strong and unreadable having his feelings brought up.

But then he watched the kid stuff it all back down, grabbing his saber, and–

Off like a shot.

Welp.

Ruka kicked off, bounding backwards away from Draca’s initial leaping strike coming down two-handed where he’d been. His saber stayed loose in his hand, unused, as his senses spilled with whispers that muscle and bone knew before they came, sinew spooled with the Force, quicksilver steps. Draca spun the staff again, not like Liliana had, not Soresu, but thrusts and chops, aiming to take his knees, for the most part. Ruka didn’t blink, barely breathing more than lightly, twisting and hopping around and over each strike that came. Effectively, Draca was chasing him across the space without making any contact for several seconds, stretched out to moments in the event horizon of blades sweeping towards the body.

The Mirialan’s grip tightened suddenly on his saber, and he slashed at his opponent one-handed, no real power behind the swing.

<@837236610684813342>

Aphotis’s cheeks pressed against her mask’s nosecup as she made a wide Cheshire smile. The sweet release of all that palpable tension and vexation with the crackle of electricity was intoxicating.

Her hand raised to her sight as her fingertips tingled pleasantly. That dark side build-up of energy felt better with every millisecond spent channeling.

She had not thought for a second that her target was Hector von Ricmore, instead envisioning one of the Zabraks or that sanctimonious Mirialan.

Snap back into it.

Tir'eivra shook her head within her sprint, becoming aware of the louder hisses coming from her respirator.

His lightsaber!

The realization brought her to a screeching stop as durasteel heels dug into the simulation floor-plating. The momentum was paired with a swing of her arm as she created a wave in Besotted’s lash.

A Krayt dragon’s roar erupted from the crimson plasma as her mind calculated the trajectory of Ricmore’s saber staff. It rose. The surge clashed and batted the whirring argent energy away as if it was hit with the back of a hand.

A yearning for a taste of Hector’s fear sprouted and grew in tandem with the intensifying beating of her heart. Her free claw was already clenching.

“You are far more powerful in the Force than most your age, young man. It speaks to you, warns you. Listen to it. Let it guide your actions without interference.”

Wise words from his youth, words that Draca took to heart as he centred himself in the infinite well that was the Living Force. It guided him, warned him of what was coming. Perhaps it was the lack of power behind the swing, but Draca was about to avoid the Miralian’s counterstrike with a twist in his body that to observers might have seen supernatural, spinning, flipping out of the way, landing over to Ruka’s flank.

As Draca landed well clear of the admittedly half-hearted slash in an acrobatic whirl, Ruka spun after him, about to continue when his vision blurred for a second. It was a sudden shock, enough for him to instinctively channel all his power into his legs and vault away, enough force that normal ground would’ve cracked beneath his feet, kicking up a rush of displaced air in his wake and making his cloak pull choking taut and snap.

At the pinnacle of his jump, nearly to the high, vaulted ceilings of this massive arena, gravity lost hold for a moment. Just a moment. And everything below was a blur.

A blur.

Here, and there.

He started to fall.

The realization of what had actually happened came with terminal velocity: for just a second, when he’d swung, he’d stopped amplifying his vision, bolstering his eyes. And without his glasses, everything had gone back to being practically a kriffing smudge. Like he was practically blind.

Because he was. That was the new normal, now.

He didn’t know how to fight like this yet.

The floor was only a couple feet away. He spared a thought for landing without splatting and pushed downwards, arresting his momentum in the direct defiance of gravity he’d lived in ever since the Sentinels knocked on his door. He flipped off from the small push and landed back on his feet, upright and still, robes settling.

Maybe. Maybe he shouldn’t be teaching anybody today. Maybe he needed to see how bad this would be.

“Hold up, Draca,” commented the Mirialan, oblivious to any reaction to his comet-like leap. “I know I said we could spar, ay, but– and just if you two okay with it, right? But how you feel if it was you and Bril?” This he proposed loudly enough to catch his Zabraki apprentice’s ear.

It should be fine. Bril had already watched Alaisy’s fight which was before this while still ongoing in realtime thank to Plot Convenience. <@1056685516441006091>

“That’s already a good start. Getting stuck in old patterns is a good way to get dead.”

Erinyes held back a sigh and ignited her lightsaber. The girl had learned from “the holovids”? Either she was some kind of lightsaber savant, or this match was going to go very, very badly. The fact that she used a shoto instead of a full-sized lightsaber was interesting, at least.

The Emissary moved. Electricity and ozone crackled through the air as she set out a quick series of basic strikes. If Mela was competent, deflecting them would just be a warmup.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. That leap Ruka had performed was nothing about of spectacular and yet…

Draca almost thought he wasn’t going to break his fall.

Ruka wasn’t looking at him, but Draca had noticed the dullness that overtook them, at least compared to their prior meeting before the blizzard.

He wasn’t… was he?

Oh, Force damn it, he’d attacked a blind man!

“Ruka, sir, I’m so sorry. I should have realised.”

Draca deactivated his lightsaber and approached the Miralian to offer whatever support he needed.

Melissa almost stepped backwards at the sudden surge forward but the Katas had been useful in building in some habits. She tensed her legs, deflecting the strikes with short but swift shifts of her arms positioning. Going through the different angles and doing her best to not simply tank the blows but using Erinyes’ own momentum to slide the blows away.

She smiled at her success but as quickly as she settled into what was usually a warm up, there was a thud and Draca started apologising. What had happened? The Echani frowned, looking to the noise and seeing Ruka on the floor. What happened? Her form laxed, attention diverted entirely.

Bril’s attention had remained squarely on Alaisy and Hector during their bout, but that changed when he sensed his master falter. His head snapped in the Mirialan’s direction quick enough to catch a glimpse of him falling to the ground, and Draca approaching him. Bril was at his side in an instant.

He’s heard his suggestion, but elected to ignore it in favor of making sure he was okay.

“Are you alright, master?”

Ruka’s brows crumpled in confusion as Draca hurried over, all apologies, and Bril came close too to check in.

“What? Ay, I’m fine, I…sorry for what…?” And then he realized just how Draca was looking at him, just what Draca must have ‘realized,’ and suddenly had to lock his jaw to keep from turning away from the regret and pity on the young man’s face. “I’m fine,” he repeated, a little more tightly, throat working. “I can enhance my eyesight. I just thought it might be good practice for all of us.”

He swallowed hard.

Ashla and Bogan and all his ancestors.

How kriffing funny was this, to realize he was actually fighting back his pride? Since when had he had pride in anything he could do?

Well. Could do. Not anymore.

“It’s a good environment. To test myself. Too. If you’re both okay with going a little more all out.”

<@1056685516441006091>

Finding out the flavor of anyone’s trepidations was akin to rummaging through a grab bag and snatching whatever latched onto you. Aphotis’s claw moved like the legs of a crab walking sideways, avoiding the chance for a digit to touch another. Her thumb and index finger snapped like a pincer, then pulled at silky strands.

These cords were woven from her Garden of Trepidations, inspiration seized from an inky black pool of fear. The motion itself was much more feline and controlled than that of a crustacean. A dark mist flowed from the nail tips, obscuring the air around it.

Tir'eivra closed her eyes, her tongue picking up the texture of a pit full of wriggling snakes as mental tendrils stretched toward Hector’s mind. The next step was much like blowing a kiss, except the Sith felt the slithering serpents flow out over her lips, over-eagerly pressing out of her mask. Once they bit into his gray matter, she would taste, he would sink into despair, she would feed lavishly and place a new statue in her garden. Her palm closed with a snap and the famished ophidians swarmed ahead.

Drops of saliva slid down her fangs in anticipation.

<@476595775187451913>

Erinyes withdrew from her first flurry of attacks, taking measure of her opponebt. The young woman was keeping up like someone who’d actually received training, thank goodness, instead of relying on holovids and manuals.

As she prepared to turn up the pressure, Erinyes vaguely heard a commotion in a different part of the training hall, then saw Melissa turn to see what was going on. With a smirk, Erinyes snapped her lightsaber into the side of Melissa’s upper arm.“

”Ow!“ Melissa yelped, more out of surprise than injury; Erinyes’ training-mode blade hadn’t done much more than sting. She rubbed her arm sheepishly with her free hand.

"You can only protect others if you keep yourself alive first,” Erinyes scolded. After a beat for Melissa to refocus, she came in with another series of attacks, this time faster and from more varied angles to test Melissa’s limits.

Melissa didn’t have time to protest the fact it was unfair. She didnt even know if Ruka was okay, not from over here! But Erinyes was already shifting, only providing a moment to sort herself out before she had to be on the defense again. The shock had been enough to set the young woman to not desire to feel the sabers touch again.

The first deflection was messy at best, but Melissa’s focus returned and though certainly tested, sbe knew how to twist to parry the blow even at more extreme angles.

Use as little energy as possible.

It was repeated often in any training material to do with Soresu. She did her best to keep true to it, watching Erinyes carefully to try and predict where she’d strike next to streamline her defense.

Draca heard that tightness in Ruka’s voice. In times like this, the Force was like his sixth sense. He didn’t mean to, though as he picked up on the offence Ruka felt.

Draca’s fault. Damn it, damn it, damn it…

Then the tension, the regret that practically poured through him in bouts of shame. Why, though? Ruka had to be one of the toughest men Draca had ever seen. The blizzard alone was proof of that.

“Don’t run before you can walk,” Draca said as if repeating the phrase from an old holovid. “Start slow and then we can work our way up. I’m not saying you can’t do it, I know you can. Many Force-sensitives do. We just need to take it a step at a time until you are completely comfortable not relying on your eyesight.”

He flashed Ruka a warm smile, for whatever good that would do.

Aphotis raked through the air with her claw. The faint taste of bone marrow crawled up on her tongue, sweetness first, then a full-bodied, rich savoriness followed. Slain enemies, eons ago. It was not done giving yet, already more complex than most of her victims.

Pure chocolate, devoid of fruitiness, grainy, and intensely bitter. Her mind deducted a raven beauty, desperate to keep her youth intact, but ultimately neglected for a greater purpose. It was a story all by itself, but there was yet greater depth to this fear’s flavor.

Tir'eivra had tasted this one so very often, but this was old and whithered, metallic. Iron, dried up yet still delicious. Wounds kept in place.

That must be it…no.

A rich wave of savoriness assaulted her tastebuds like a cloud. Then an ever so subtle sweetness followed, tar-like, as if a fossilized creature crawled over her tongue. It could only be described as smoke, rising from the dark side. Corruption.

The full image was chiseled into her Garden of Trepidations, to be worshipped and dreaded.

Her eyes smiled behind the mask as her hand tightened around Besotted. Both her tail and lightwhip were in constant motion, beastly aggression shifting into elegance like a flag fluttering in the wind. Her long legs carried her towards Hector, riding an amplifying storm.

Ruka sighed and rubbed at his face, lightsaber long since deactivated. “Yeah…yeah. Why don’t I just let you two at it, ay?”

He gestured between Bril and Draca, then turned to start the walk/climb back to where Sinya and Lilian idled to watch the matches.

<@1056685516441006091>

Draca looked between Bril and Ruka, snapping his head back and forth between the two of them.

He whispered to Bril. “Did I say something wrong?”

<@1056685516441006091>

Bril’s eyes lingered on Ruka for a moment as he walked away. A disappointed look appeared on the zabrak’s face, but it didn’t last. After all, he sparred Ruka often, though never to the level of intensify he truly preferred. This could have been his opportunity to really test himself against his master’s skill and power, but he supposed Draca would do. He was the stronger of the two, after all … even if Bril would never admit it aloud.

Turning to his zabrak counterpart, he replied, “His vision is a sore spot. Has been at least since we helped out during the Blizzard on Kasiya. Even if you meant well, you probably made him feel inadequate.”

<@244244163002892288> <@837236610684813342>

“Good.” Melissa’s technique was solid, Erinyes finally decided. It just had a few pinch points, like a pair of shoes that hadn’t quite been broken in yet.

“Don’t just rely on your eyes, they’ll be too slow.” To emphasise the point, Erinyes dipped into the Force. Her lightsaber transformed from a beam into an indistinct nimbus. Violet afterimages filled the air around Melissa, obscuring the attacks’ true path just enough that the pauses Melissa took to distinguish them left gaps in her defences. The attacks only resolved into images when Erinyes pulled her blows and allowed Melissa to see where she would’ve been hit, as though Erinyes were queueing the strikes for Melissa to intercept.

Melissa was grateful for the fact that Erinyes didn’t actually strike her all of those times. She registered the difference, noting the pattern the Zeltron had taken up and letting her focus sink into the Force. The lightsaber seemed louder within it, the blur becoming a series of movements rather than a mass of blinding light.

She took a moment, more than she’d have in a real fight, but started deflecting the blows. Her own saber became a blur to do so, to catch each one in turn. While they hadn’t done so extensively, this wasn’t out of familiarity from the training she’d done with Ruka. Though it was definitely more intense. Erinyes being an unknown, Melissa was less sure in what mistakes would be allowed to fly by and what would get her a whack on the arm.

The torrent raged on, evolving into a hurricane. Aphotis set her electric-blue eyes on <@476595775187451913> ‘s joint and raised her arm. Besotted’s cord curled up and knotted as she swung her arm down. The Krayt Dragon Pearl roared as plasma whirred toward Ricmore.

Tir'eivra pulled the hilt back sharply as her mind calculated the whip’s trajectory. An ear-shattering sonic blast boomed through the space as her lightwhip snapped at the High Inquisitor’s knee.

Bril looked to Draca. “Well, he did ask me to continue in his stead, and it’s been a while since we traded blows … so, how about it?”

Anticipating his fellow zabrak’s agreement, Bril took a step backward while unhooking his cross-guard saber from his belt. Concord was a blend of both modern and classical design motifs, sporting a hilt of polished silver with gold accents, a black twisted fibercord wrap, and a pommel sporting a curved silver horn. The inspiration from High Republic designs was obvious, and to Draca in particular, the subtle homages to their own ancestral heritage was clear, as well. Most notably, however, was the cross-guard itself, which was currently enclosed the emitter in a configuration that made it resemble a spearhead.

<@837236610684813342>

Guilt wracked for a few moments, preventing him from answering Bril immediately. Eventually, his brain caught up with his heart and registered what Bril had both said and was doing.

The best thing he could do now was respect Rula’s wishes. Besides, Bril was right! It had been a while since those two had traded blows, and it would be great to do so without the influence of a dark night’s interview artifact twisting one of their minds against the other. He’d get to see the real Bril, the one that was beginning to make his emergence on Kasiya before Draca had interrupted.

With a smile and a nod, the Jedi took his stance opposite Bril. He knew Bril and Bril knew him. There was no point in starting slow.

A twist of his saberstaff split the weapon into two seperate pieces. He held the two hilts in his hands down by his sides and was about to move into his ready stance when he laid eyes on his fellow Zabrak’s hilt.

“A new weapon?” Draca asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, you’re definitely a Soresu specialist.” Erinyes’ lightaaber sped up again. Melissa could still sense the attacks before they came, but the strikes were so quick that her limbs seemed to crawl through space by comparison. Even the forewarning wasn’t enough for her to keep up. “Are you going to stop me from attacking, or just wait until I die of old age?”

He shook his head. “The same one, just rebuilt it. Sounds funny to say because I haven’t been here long, but I’ve grown a lot, and I felt my main weapon should reflect that.”

As if on cue, the two cross-guard attachments separated and locked in place, revealing Concord’s emitter that featured a main aperture and two smaller ones on each side. He ignited the saber, producing a marigold blade with two smaller quillons emitted at forty-five-degree angles to the central one.

Stepping his right foot forward to enter a bladed stance, he held Concord’s hilt with both hands, its blade kept mostly parallel with the ground, crossing his centerline.

“Shall we?”

You and me both, Bril.

Draca didn’t speak his thoughts out loud. Yet, the Arconan Zabrak before him was eager to go and so was he.

A snap of the hilts in his hands produced the array of colours in his lightsaber blades.

Bril wasn’t the only one who had grown. Draca had grown too since they had last fought. He’d changed, learnt things and could do things most his age count dream of.

He’d done a poor job demonstrating that in recent times, and with it came the nagging voice of self-doubt. Nonetheless he pushed that down into the back of his mind and brought his blades horizontally in front of him.

“Let’s.”

Once his counterpart gave him the okay, Bril sprang into action like his godmother’s vornskr pouncing on its unsuspecting prey. Stepping just within the effective range of Concord’s blade, he swung it upward on a diagonal path meant to carve a shallow cleft in the Zabrak’s chest; at least, that’s what it would have done had he not switched it into its low power mode prior to attacking. In its current form, it’d feel like little more than a slight burn, though the Christophsis Crystal housed within its hilt ensured that it would land with more “weight” than Draca would remember from their last encounter.

Oh snap!

Ink, and you’d miss it. Bril wasn’t kidding when he said he had improved. Almost immediately, Draca could tell the night and day difference between the Bril in the here and now compared to the Bril back on Batuu.

He was proud of him.

The Force leapt to Draca’s side, warning him of the impending harm that came his way in the form of a Zabbro’s crossguard blade. He had to time this right. There wasn’t just one blade to keep an eye on, but to others inches apart from the main, and inches could be all the difference in a life or death duel.

Draca turned his body to the side, brought his right hand lightsaber down to block Bril’s attack. The momentary fleeting feeling of success evaporated at the sudden weight behind the strike that caught Draca off-guard.

Twin-hearts pounding, he used his second lightsaber to reinforce the first and redirected the Arconan’s attack to the side.

All the while having a small smile on his face. Could Bril feel it too? The Living Force between them in all its glory?

With momentum on his side, Draca followed through, twisting his body and extending his leg. He completed a full rotation, aiming for the exposed rib.

<@1056685516441006091>

Draca was as quick as always, raising his saber to block his own. Superheated blades crackled loudly in their bind, reflecting the zabraks’ spirits that wrestled in a bid for supremacy. Which of the Living Force’s chosen would emerge victorious this time?

Draca’s second blade gave him the leverage to press Bril’s aside and force an opening for a spinning kick, but Bril saw it coming. The techniques of their ancestral martial art weren’t unfamiliar to him, and he countered by stepping outside the kick’s range at the last moment; then, Bril advanced swiftly to sweep Draca’s planted foot from under him to throw him off balance. An accompanying shoulder shunt would send the Jedi stumbling backward if he wasn’t careful.

Melissa wasn’t exactly sure. She tried to keep up, sweat forming on her forehead.

Melissa didn’t know how to break it, not with the lightsaber at least. She deflected another parry, too focussed to respond to Erinyes’ quip and instead used the miniscule moment she had and raised her hand. An orb of light flashed into existence, a pure white burst of energy in the palm of her hand.

It had worked against the Children of Mortis.

Yep, Bril had improved tremendously. When he swept Draca’s foot, it knocked the Elder Zabrak of balance. The sweep would have floored him, had he not planted his other foot down onto the floor.

However, a Juggernaut, he was not. He wobbled on one foot, staggering back as he struggled to regain his balance.

Bril didn’t give him time to steady his footing, either. Keeping both hands firmly on his saber’s hilt, he tapped into the Force to forcibly pull Draca toward him with a sudden and forceful telekinetic grip. A flash of marigold heralded another strike aimed at the top of Draca’s head.

Now seemed like a good enough time to put Hector’s lessons to use.

Luckily for Draca, he too had been paying attention to Hector’s lesson for the briefest moment they were observing his fight. That, combined with his own knowledge of lightsaber forms meant that he knew what was coming.

The Jedi brought his sabers up in an ‘X’ in front of him and blocked the attack before it could cleave through his cranium.

Watching from above, Ruka’s lips pulled into a tight line, a little curl at the edge the only indication of approval. Bril was doing well. He always learned quickly.

And Melissa…resourceful as ever.

<@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

Indeed, Bril was doing very well. Draca had to up his game. He disengaged his sabers from Bril’s, leaping, spinning, twirling. This was the Draca Bril might have remembered from Batuu, only he was faster, stronger, far more adept than he had been back then. The Living Force turned Draca’s blades into little more than rainbow blurs, the torrents of a hurricane flashing in front of Zabrak eyes. Vertical, horizontal, diagonal, the strikes came one after another and another and another. Their blades clashed, hissed, and sparked with each contact.

Tha-Thump, Tha-Thump, Tha-Thump.

They fell into a deadly crescendo with one another. Bril parried, deflected, blocked. It was like Batuu all over again and yet, despite being pressed onto the defensive, Bril was enjoying himself, even if he was pressed on to the defensive. Draca too, was enjoying himself, if the smile on his face was any indication.

Eventually, the Jedi caught an opening in Bril’s defenses. He managed to catch Bril’s lightsaber, ensnaring it with his own and flicking it out of his fellow Zabrak’s hand.

Draca was about to stop, but Bril had already responded, reaching out with his hand, his weapon soaring back into his hand through the air.

The Jedi among the two of them backed away, his smile widening. “OK, not gonna lie. That was pretty cool.”

<@1056685516441006091>

Bril grinned. “Thanks, I’ve been working on that one. I can see if you’ve been training a lot, as well.”

Their exchange of words provided only a brief break in the action. The two zabraks were locked in a pitched duel that allowed them to converse with one another on a far deeper level than words. The venerable Kthri masters of Iridonia did often speak about the highest level of combat resembling poetry told by the body … were they pushing each other to that level?

The two zabraks, light and grey, clashed again. And again. And again. Draca’s more acrobatic style contrasted starkly with Bril’s more grounded and conservative movements, though they seemingly complemented each other like two partners in a dance. A chain of rapid flourishes seemingly gave the former the upper hand, beating through Bril’s sharp defense; at least, that’s what the Arconan wanted him to think.

Feigning weakness to bait his opponent into pressing an illusory advantage, Bril waited until the time was right to strike. Draca took the bait, prompting to lash out with a blindingly fast combination of cuts. But the Force was with Draca as it was with him. Whispers turned to emphatic warnings of impending danger, allowing the Taldryan Jedi to avoid and block each of Bril’s attacks on instinct alone.

<@837236610684813342>

The flurry of strikes persisted, flashing in fluroscent lights so intense it would make a Coruscanti nightclub jealous.

Draca wasn’t foolish. He needed to force an opening so decided, since this was a friendly spar, he would take a chance. He spun, extending his leg at a forty-five degree angle to strike Bril in the centre of his chest.

[Ruka waves a foam finger that mysteriously appears in his inventory from the ACC].

Guided by the Force, Erinyes had already started to shut her eyes and turn her head when Melissa raised her hand. The tail end of the flash landed, though, and left annoying spots across her vision that made her blink reflexively to clear them.

Half-expecting Melissa to wait for her sight to recover, and already prepared to lecture her for it, Erinyes was pleasantly surprised when she sensed Melissa lunge in for an attack. She stepped and spun to pull her leg away from Melissa’s low cut, then circled around behind Melissa, who quickly turned, guard raised.

“You’ll wear yourself out chasing me around,” Erinyes said, extending her lightsaber in one hand. “Wait for me to come at you and counter my attacks.” And come at Melissa she did, with another flurry of strikes just beyond the younger woman’s speed.

Bril’s skill at combining the principles of Hijkata with the fluid and instinctive movements of Teras Kasi enabled him to avoid his opponent’s kick with minimal effort, using the Jedi’s own momentum against him to lead him into a position that left him exposed for a powerful Force push. It smashed into him like a charging reek and tossed him backward. But it didn’t end there. Instead of allowing Draca time to recover, he hurled his cross-guard saber through the air in the hopes of catching him unawares.

OK, did anyone get the number of that landspeeder that him him? No?

Draca careered back, just barely managing to manipulate his body into landing on his feet with a stumble and skid across the ground.

‘OK, now to…’

He never finished that thought, the Force screaming at him in regards to the LIGHTSABER WHIRLING THROUGH THE AIR TOWARDS HIM.

Draca acted on instincts, leaping over the crossguard lightsaber at the last possible moment, the hum in his ears became extraordinarily loud as the hot plasma cut loose strands of his hair.

The blade whirled back towards Bril.

Draca wasn’t going to make it that easy and called upon the Force himself.

The small Rutian watched the bouts. One more instructive. The elder testing the metal and abilities of the young apprentice. Getting more and more aggressive as the student rose to the challenge. One demonstrative. Two Zabraki friends showing off their skills in a contest of egos. And the last one…that one had a dark feel to it. Two masters locked in a battle that felt real. Felt like old foes fighting for their lives…or Hector felt like he was fighting for his life. The Sith almost felt aroused as she created and drank in Hectors fear. Sinya glanced at Ruka. Their attention seemed to be split between their pupils, a mix of fear and pride playing across their emotions. The Rylothian watched and learned as must as she could. Not just about the lightsaber forms, but also the people.

Noticing Sinya looking at him and the matches here and there, Ruka thought he might try again at conversation.

“Interested in any of it?”

“It is all interesting.” She looked over at Ruka. “Especially the different approaches. What stands out to you?”

The Mirialan debated for a moment, weighing neutrality, then offered, “I’m proud of them all, Draca and Bril and Mela. They’re doing great. But,” he pinched his fingers, giving her a hopefully friendly grin, “I’m a little extra proud of ninosezmi. My kids. Not that they kids…not any of you. But mine to me.”

His expression fell flat and hard when he looked to Alaisy and Hector, sudden intensity l over again.

“I know we seemed hostile earlier, but it not for none reason, ay. Tir'ievra is dangerous. If she tries to corner you, or make you afraid, I’ll stop her. Promise.”

“I can handle myself. Always have.” She looked back to the ongoing battles. “Trust only in yourself. Everyone else will let you down.” <@244244163002892288>

“I used to think that too,” Ruka offered after a few more seconds of watching. “But I learned better. Sometimes you can trust people. But, that sure didn’t stick for me til I found it. So I hope you do. And meantime,” he shrugged, “yeah, you can probably handle yourself, but you don’t always have to. And I still mean what I say.”

Sinya’ni rolled her eyes at his naivety but didn’t say anymore.

Bril extended his hand to recall his saber after Draca leaped over it only to be met with opposition in the form of a Force pull. He furrowed his brows and gritted his teeth as his determination to win their little game of telekinetic tug of war, but the saber didn’t budge … at least until Draca released the hold he had on it. Bril, in his determination, hadn’t realized this until it was too late. Free to fly in the only direction it was being pulled, the Arconan’s lightsaber deactivated and smacked Bril square in the center of his forehead before hitting the ground with a resounding clang. His hand instinctually shot up to his forehead, not only to massage the sore spot but also to prevent anyone from seeing the grin on his face.

“What the heck …” he muttered to himself while bending over to fetch his saber.

Noting Sinya’s eye roll, the Mirialan let his attempt at chatter die, knowing there wasn’t any talking her out of it. It’d taken him years together to really trust Cora; to not just trust his decisions and judgement, because that was easy, and so was trusting him with their children, but to trust he wasn’t going anywhere, that this was something that would last…

With so many matches going on, his attention drifted for a moment to thoughts of his husband. It was called back by a flurry of movement and then a clang. Ruka’s hand flew up to his mouth to cover it even as he winced in sympathy for his apprentice.

Sinya laughed. Not just a chuckle but a full on audible laugh when she saw the lightsaber impact the Iridonian’s forehead.

Draca resisted the urge to chuckle. If throwing his lightsabers around was what Bril wanted, well, then two could play at that game.

Draca held out his hands, his lightsabers floating in the air in front of him. With swift hand gestures, he sent the rainvow sabers soaring towards Bril.

<@1056685516441006091>

[If Erinyes had been able to see the lightsaber carom off Bril’s head, she also would’ve laughed.]

Melissa wasn’t sure how exactly. Struggling to deflect the blows however, she did attempt a swing back. Parrys was something she knew the technical theory behind though hadn’t tried practicing it…

Not that any attempts got close, Erinyes easily holding the Echani at arms length with the difference between their sabers.

Bril narrowed his eyes upon seeing Draca’s sabers levitating in the air.

“So, you can do that as well, huh?” he asked before briefly looking over to where Ruka was standing. He’d only seen one half of his master pair use the telekinetic combat a handful of times, and tried his hand against it in their training sessions none. He supposed now was as good a time as ever to learn how to counter it. Learning on the fly was one of his specialties, after all. But for this, he decided to use his second saber.

As the sabers rushed toward him, Bril freed his saberstaff Seba from the hidden sheath on his hip. Both blades, white as the snow that fell during the Kasiya blizzard, ignited with a thundering howl. He sprang into action, parrying left, right, and above as Draca directed their movements from afar.

This was far more difficult than he expected. Free from the limitations imposed on physical bodies, the sabers could flick and twirl with dizzying speed. But he held his own, for now at least.

With a lull in Tir'viera’s match, Ruka leaned forward, watching Bril work against Draca’s telekinesis. He was curious what his apprentice would do, especially given the Mirialan had never fully fought around him.

Between high or low stakes, Alaisy would always choose to go all the way and then add a little extra. Her tail swished from side to side with excitement, causing a satisfying whistle close to her helmet’s audio receptors.

That sound was only reserved for herself as the growl from her lightwhip drowned everything out between the chaotic lashings at Hector’s blade. Besotted surged and ebbed like the ocean’s waves, as ever-changing as the water.

She was caught off guard, making an assured pace forward with her heavy boot. Aphotis was ready to throw in her whole strength and body weight as Hector stepped through the screen of plasma.

Reckless! Careless!

“I love it! I adore your brazen lust for pain Hector!” Alaisy’s voice was frantic as she refocused to make a feint stride forward to meet his challenge like an expert Djem So practitioner would.

She pulled the weapon back and knotted the superheated cord as she aimed its fury at the middle of Ricmore’s body. Besotted complied with a roar and rattled the simulation room as it broke the sound barrier.

Its impact would be right at his groin, armored or not, the Sith was too curious to find out his reaction.

This was it! The moment had presented itself!

Draca lunged forward and recalled his lightsabers to his hand, intending on blitzing Bril whilst he was on the defensive.

<@1056685516441006091>

It seemed Draca had similar plans as him. The two men met in the center of their sparring platform, exchanging blows with their sabers post haste. Flashes of white and opalescent light briefly painted their surroundings as they dueled, the speed and ferocity of their strikes quickening with every passing moment until they reached a crescendo. Draca struck high and Bril went low, parrying his sabers aside and batting one of the pair from his hand. That left his Taldryan counterpart open, allowing him to end their exchange by stopping short of pressing his saber into the spot beneath Draca’s chin while following into a crouched stance.

Draca had overextended. He realised it the moment his off-hand lightsaber had been batted away.

Bril really had improved so much in such a short amount of time. There was nothing else for it. The Jedi deactivated his lightsabers and clipped them back to his waist. He offered a hand out to help Bril from his crouching position.

“Well done,” Draca said with heavy pants. “You got me.”

Bril deactivated his saber and grasped Draca’s hand to help him stand upright again.

“Thank you,” he replied with a smile while returning his saberstaff to its shadowsheath. The weapon’s hilt seemingly disappeared within the folds of his robes. “Can’t say our last scrap wasn’t among the myriad reasons I had to train as hard as I have been.”

Vwoom. Vwoom. Vwoom. Erinyes and Melissa’s lightsabers travelled in arcs. Cut. Parry. Riposte…

Riposte…

Riposte…

Ah, that was the problem, Erinyes saw. Melissa was responding to her strikes, but coming up short—literally. Her technique was fine, but her shoto just couldn’t reach Erinyes.

“Okay, stop.” Erinyes backed away a couple of steps and deactivated her lightsaber. “That shoto’s going to keep you from ever reaching me. Here, try this.” She detached another lightsaber hilt from a magnetic patch on her belt and floated it over to Melissa.

Up above, Ruka gave an awkward but nonetheless genuine round of applause for the Zabraks.

“Good job, you two,” he called to Bril and Draca.

<@837236610684813342> <@1056685516441006091>

Draca awkwardky grabbed hold of Hril’s wrist and raised his arm. <@1056685516441006091>

Alaisy’s tail curled around her waist and cinched her as she witnessed Hector going from zero to a hundred. As always, there was no knowing a person until they surrendered to bloodlust and battle.

“I would have it no other way!”

There was no defense for a Sith, no hiding, not a single drumbeat of your heart to be wasted on otiosity. Aphotis knew this. There was a sudden high-pitched whistle. Her mask no longer hissed, the air cut off on purpose. Her senses sharpened, and her muscles tightened as her alchemical suit did. Her moves were graceful and dancelike but as Ricmore pushed toward his suffering she moved more animalistically.

Tir'eivra weaved in kicks with bladed heels and clawed jabs whenever an opening presented itself. The lash of plasma coiled around her, increasing the risk of harm to both of them.

No such thing as half measures.

Besotted’s waves grew into chaotic tsunamis as they crashed and crashed into Hector’s blade. Aphotis was not relenting, not stepping back, not meeting his blows, but going further as the dark side screamed at her in rapture.

For an amateur, her strikes may have seemed unsystematic and lacking in rhythm, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. She used her full strength to stir her lightwhip into a torrent, causing its cord to fold in on itself, knotting and cracking at supersonic speed.

Her arm was on fire, but even that felt good…

Bril nodded to Draca and gripped his forearm with his other hand to convey his respect and appreciation. Then, he turned to face Ruka.

“Thank you, master,” he replied while stepping off the platform and heading back to where he was standing.

<@244244163002892288>

“Dunno what you’re thankin’ me for, ay. That was all you.” He gripped Bril’s shoulder in a proud squeeze. “Maybe you’re ready for some more practice against telekinetic combat. We’ll start at home, if you want?”

As he spoke, he made sure to flick a look and a nod to Draca, acknowledging the other Zabrak’s showing too.

“Because I’ve learned a lot from you and Cora. I wouldn’t be where I am without you and so many others,” he replied with a smile, “And that would be great. You can never be too prepared, after all.”

The Mirialan’s scarred cheeks ruddied slightly. “You’ve had a lotta good teachers, ay, yeah, but you also a good student.”

Holding Bril’s gaze a moment, he squeezed again before he turned to Draca.

“You…” he paused, unsure if any critique was welcome, or if he even had anything to contribute to such an insane prodigy, “…did good too.”

<@837236610684813342>

Melissa took it hesistantly. She.. didn’t really want to fight without the stone that imbued her current lightsaber but Erinyes had a point. She didn’t have the tricks or skills to sneak an attack in that could’t be prevented by the longer weapon. In different hands, this would work but… She only had her hands.

It was worth a try. Melissa deactivated her saber and ignited the one offered to her to borrow.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t let Erinyes get the first strike this time, still keeping the defensive stance of Soresu but pushing to try and force Erinyes to react for once. Trying being the key word of the statement.

Compliments.

By the Force, compliments were the worst. Even if a small part of wanted as much praise as Bril had received, but even if he had, the poor Jedi had no idea how to process it. He didn’t think he was anything too special in truth, even if Anders had repeatedly told him otherwise in the years they had spent together.

Draca opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it and bowed his head.

“Thank you…” he mumbled under his breath before turning his attention back to the duel between Melissa and Erinyes.

<@432543120635461643> <@645466919415054357>

With one match down, Ruka also turned his attention to checking on his other apprentice and the Emissary – though in his head, she was still his fellow Proconsul, two wrong facts for very different reasons – and then looked back to Hector and Alaisy.

Their battle had been intense, to say the least, though he knew from the swirl of sinister Dark Side energy that there was significantly more going on unseen to the onlookers. The pained sounds they made seemed too real; something was different.

<@476595775187451913> <@188018248241905664>

How many shells does this guy have?

How much pain can he take?

The dark side always wanted more, but Alaisy knew its demands were not all that clear cut. Her mind waged war with her heart. It was so simple to let go. To let primal instinct take over and play Hector’s little game. Her backpack whistled, pressure built in her airhoses and her mask hissed as her brain demanded oxygen.

Do not let him goad you.

A vision of blades. Digits. One, by one. Five. The Force punched her in the gut with a staunch warning. The feeling made her want to vomit, but the motion compelled her to weave her tall frame around blurred projectiles.

Too slow.

The twisting and turning was too late.

Her eyes closed as she grit her teeth. One. A sharp pain spiked at her hip. Shunk, the blade cut through both of her skins and flesh, scraping bone. Two. Another clanged against her neck gorget. Metal chipped as the edge almost reached her clavicle. Three. She could feel the wind blow by her helmet as she flung her already maimed ponytail away by snapping her head to the side. Four, Five. Avoided. She halted. Her eyes burned. Blood boiled. Her ankle wobbled as she steadied herself on her enormous heel.

The sting fueled her wrath, the dark side playing her like a doll. A deep hunger rolled out its carpet. Her peripheral vision was blurred when she opened her eyes. She raised a claw from her side. Blood. The craving grew. Her tail stood up and flicked violently.

The taste of his fear bubbled back up, like a coat of sugar coarsing over her tongue. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Aphotis waded through her suffering, flinging her lightwhip wildly.

“You wanted to get closer, now is your chance Hector,” her voice hissed together with the air she pressed out, her claw bared by her side.

Out of habit, Erinyes jumped back like a startled cat when Melissa went on the offensive. “That’s not very pacifist of you. Where did you learn that?” The words might’ve been critical, but her tone was approving.

Over the next few exchanges, Erinyes didn’t really defend against Melissa’s attacks. Instead of backing away, she counter-charged like a knight in a joust, ending up behind Melissa’s back as often as not. Instead of parrying, she alternated between swatted at Melissa’s hands and wrists and cutting straight through to her centerline.

Black tendrils sprung out from the sides of the wound, weaving together with violence. For Alaisy it felt like invisible hands split the skin open, folded it together and used the dark side like a blowtorch to cauterize it. She couldn’t seize enough of Hector’s life-energy to have a proper taste, but it was enough to halt the bleeding around her hip. The process was viscious, pale skin interwoven with shiny black strands, like merging tar with milk, decorated with flecks of crimson. Yet even the process of healing had been turned into a type of abstract, fluid art, executed with unique rawness and passion. She peered down as she admired the dramatic strands and splotches of black oil, the trance of porcelain waters and fury of red ink.

Ricmore was further and further out of reach as he made strides backwards.

Strike. Make him feel it. Prolong your joy. Play. Do not stop. Darkness will carry you. He still wants more! You have your distance again, each internal sentence tinged with a different voice in her head.

Aphotis’s whip curled with each step he had taken back, like a serpent searching for openings. The sway in her stride conveyed confidence. The tapping of her heels louder than before as she slammed down her boots every time she adjusted her position.

“Stay there, perfect,” her breathing was accompanied by hisses, sounding more excited than exausted.

Besotted felt lighter than ever, as if it had a will of its own. A thunderous crack echoed through the training hall as she lashed out, aimed at his kneepit.

Draca heard the crack, like thunder striking before the full might of a storm broke through. He shuddered. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Alaisy again if he had too. Anders had specifically told him not to engage with that particular Sith on any level, but if she confronted him? Well, that was a different dilemma.

Melissa seemed to be taking Erinyes’ instructions to heart. Draca was proud of the Echani and swelled inside. She was holding her own against, from what he had been told, someone who was a Master saberist since they were a teenager.

He kind of felt inadequate by comparison. He always felt like he could do better. Should do better.

“Mr. Tenbriss Ya-Ir, sir?” Draca addressed the Miralian beside him.

<@244244163002892288>

Ruka, intently watching the battle with Ricmore and Tir'ievra and vibrating in holding himself back from intervening in such a violent display, flicked milky violet eyes to the young Zabrak and back again.“

"Yes, Draca? And you know you still don’t have to call me sir, ay…”

“No, I need to call you sir, sir. Its respectful,” Draca stated the fact like it was the most obvious thing in the known galaxy.

“So is using whatever people prefer, ay, no?” Ruka pointed out, raising thick, broken eyebrows.

Draca opened and closed his mouth. Every fibre of his being wanted to refute that. Ruka deserved to have the respect of being called sir given that he was both older and stronger than he was.

He was very clearly struggling with respecting Ruka’s wishes and defying what he believed was right.

One, two, three…

“Do you have any advice for me, s-”

He caught himself, as much as every part of him was literally screaming to finish that sentence.

Ruka gave him a small, fierce smile, tired on the lines of his face.

“Good job. Keep practicing that,” he advised. “It’s important to folks. Sometimes more than you think, ay.”

A glance back to the matches, then to Draca.

“Advice about…?”

“My spar with Bril,” Draca glanced to the matches the same as Ruka. “I lost. I’m trying to figure out what I can do better.”

This was far more aggressive than she was used to. Melissa swung the blade to deflect the attacks, struggling against the speed at which the blows came. There was nothing in Soresu for counter attacking, but maybe…

Erinyes had to reach further to hit her now, with the blades being even in length and Erinyes being a lot taller, it gave Melissa an in where the other woman had more momentum to counter-act. If she could take it. The Echani deflected another blow, one aimed for her wrist and ducked, attempting to move in close underneath Erinyes’ arm and smack the blade into her lower leg and get behind her rather than vice versa.

Melissa wouldn’t go for what would be a fatal blow, but if it landed it’d be enough that it would end a fight in a real scenario.

“Oh.” The Mirialan considered, shoulders shifting a bit as his previous concern of saying something out of line to Draca eased a bit. While the battle in front of them was heavily distracting, and he was trying to keep an eye on Melissa’s progress too, he made sure to parse a response.

“Let me ask…how long have you been using two sabers? And how long you been practicing using ‘em telekinetically? Why do you use em like that?”

“I’ve been using two lightsabers for… a few years now? Yes. Anders refused to teach me how at first, but he eventually gave in. Telekinetically? Erm…”

Draca pursed his lips. The honest answer was since the ability was used against him in the Ethereal Realm. “Not very long. A few months on and off. Why do you ask?”

“Well, ay… You seem new at it,” Ruka hedged, trying to feel out how Draca was taking his comment even as he spoke it. “What you did was… How you say, ccehvstq en drevoba…? Bright empty head…flashy, right, but not filling? No substance!” He snapped his fingers. “Ay, that’s the thing Cor says. ‘Bright without substance.’ You both got flashy and it nearly cost him too.

Anyway. Seems like you need more practice with it ‘fore you fight with it, the telekinesis. And like you only did it 'cause Bril did it first. Same thing with when Bril brought out his second saber, and you kept yours apart when you was holding strong against him with the staff before. Makes sense if you only used one for so long cause Anderson wasn’t letting you use two, but you move like you still only have one. Your grip is weak with your off hand. Cause you’re used to using both on the hilt, ay, right? Whether it’s one standard single blade or the staff length. You’re never taking one hand off when you’re actively fighting unless you desperate. If you wanna learn more styles that’s fine, but mind you’re being careful too. Don’t try to be good at everything, and stay focused in combat. Fighting isn’t fun and it isn’t a game. It could get you hurt or killed, or somebody else hurt or killed. Ay?”

Draca didn’t respond with anything but a small nod of his head. He processed everything Ruka just said to him. He was going to have a lot to think about.

Ruk smiled back, then turned to watching the matches finish. He was mindful of Ricmore giving in , and tensed to intervene should Tir'ievra refuse to stop.

Bril was off in his own little world, tapping away on his vambrace’s screen. He sent a message to Foxen.

🥼 What are you up to brotato?

<@244244163002892288>

A reply was soon in coming: a screenshot of the other end of the message window, cropped over the last received the the textbox showing Block User.

He sucked his teeth. “Wack.”

Draca peered over with a raised brow. “What’s quack?”

He has a lot of control. Now, show yours. There will be no ghost to lay to rest this time.

Aphotis had to fight the temptation to keep going. The urge pulled on her skin, almost dragging her back into battle. The lash roared and cracked against the padded floor. Her own tail coiled around her thigh and squeezed it in frustration.

There are those who are far more deserving of your malice.

There were short interruptions between the hissing of her mask. Emotions flooded her as she came to a standstill, she wanted to cry, to laugh, but ended up biting her tongue. Tir'eivra looked up at the ceiling and swallowed down a lump as she reigned in Besotted. With a clenched fist she recomposed herself.

“This has been far more entertaining than I expected it to be, thank you Ricmore. I will reflect back on this session for a while to come,” her voice hid none of her excitement as she returned her gaze towards Hector and inclined her head at him in respect and confirmation.

She rolled her shoulders and clipped the hilt back onto her high-waisted belt. Her cheeks felt rosy and warm, squeezed behind the nosecup. She dialed down her buzz a notch before she click, clacked back to the observation area.

Draca’s eyes caught the end of the spar between Alaisy and Hector. He could see firsthand, and had experienced firsthand why Anders had told him to keep his distance from her.

But… why? She hurt people. She hurt people that didn’t deserve it. She hurt people because maybe she had been hurt before and was taking it out on others.

It was wrong, and it made him sad, apprehensive. Alaisy was a wild card he needed to be prepared for. Her emotions were like a tornado fused with fire. Glorious to watch, horrid to feel.

“Huh? Oh! Wack. My future brother-in-law blocked me again,” Bril explained, rolling his eyes comically. “He doesn’t appreciate my nicknames.”

Draca blinked. “You’re getting married? Congratulations!”

With Alaisy safely walking away, that little tidbit practically had Ruka doing a 360 on his apprentice.

“You proposed?!” he half-shouted, strangled in the way of a parental figure mildly concerned and maybe a little betrayed to find out this way

Bril’s face practically went white; Draca’s reaction was bad enough, but Ruka’s made him want to hide under a rock somewhere.

“What? No! Not yet, at least,” he fumbled over his words, voice raising in pitch. “But, you know … it’s gonna happen one day.”

“Oh… then… why did you call him your brother-in-law?”

This was confusing. Why couldn’t things just be straightforward? Draca liked straightforward. It made things easy.

The quick refusal and sudden flailing from Bril assuaged Ruka’s own shock somewhat. He put a hand over his eyes, as much shaking his head at himself as at Bril and dragged it down over his face to try and smother the crack of a smile too at Draca’s sheer confusion.

“That’s…nice, Bril. Sweet.” He reached over and patted the Zabrak’s shoulder. “Cor once showed me our names together in one of his notebooks after– well, it was kinda an argument. But us admitting we’d wanna marry each other someday. So…I dunno. I’m glad you thinking of her family too. That’s really good. Cor cared so much about the kids, wouldn'ta been able to be with him otherwise. I– well his family was complicated.”

“That’s a shame,” Draca mused. “Family doesn’t have to be complicated. It shouldn’t be complicated. I never knew mine.”

The Mirialan grimaced, visibly withdrawing inside.

“Shouldn’t, no, ay, but lotta times is.”

“Because he’s like family now, and in the future, he will be,” Bril explained before turning his head to listen to his Ruka. His expression softened when he heard the Mirialan’s explanation.

“That’s great! Master Cora really is amazing, and you two are kind of like couple goals … I’ll have to ask Minnie later if I used that right. Sad to hear about his family, though. But now he has a huge family with us. My family back on Iridonia is really big, so I hope Minnie will be okay with all the new additions …”

<@244244163002892288>

Bril’s excited ramble made Ruka’s lips twitch upwards again.

“He still has his family, it’s just…It was rough for awhile. Because of us. I’ll tell you about it later if you want.” He shook his head, and smiled more. “From what you’ve said of Minnie, it should be fine.”

He hadn’t really met the girl yet, mainly because he got the sense she didn’t want to meet him. And the recent history of the Erinos was a tragedy from what he’d read up on in the Clan records. He didn’t blame her. Her older brother, from those same skimming of files – he didn’t like getting too into the personnel stuff if he didn’t have to or had threat reasons to suspect, it was just…not right – didn’t sound like someone he’d want to know. But Bril seemed really happy with both of them, so he was glad.

“That’d be great. Also, I’m amused at the thought of how Cora would have reacted to hearing this conversation. He loves the relationship gossip.”

Bril laughed.

“He’d be crying,” Ruka snorted. “First because he was happy for you about the engagement, then probably because it wasn’t happening and he felt bad.”

He shook his head adamantly. “Nu-uh. Oh no. Making him cry is not on the Bril To Do List™️.”

The Mirialan chuckled softly. He didn’t really get why Bril talked about things in the third person like that so much, nevermind a lot of other things he said, like quack, but he didn’t need to understand the kids’ slang to appreciate them.

“You and me both, ay, unless it from happy.”

As the conversation lulled, Ruka rolled his shoulders, checked a glance at Tir'ievra’s location, Sinya beside the Zabbros, Melissa down with Erinyes, and then Ricmore. Gesturing a sort of stay here at Bril, he descended down into the arena where the instructor was.

“You good, Ricmore? You here with us?” he called softly, checking on the man. That fight had been vicious. Who knew what it was internally.

<@476595775187451913>

Sinya listened to the conversation and wondered what it would be like to have family…nah, families are a weakness. As soon as you trust someone, they stab you in the back… or die in your arms. Either way, you end up alone.

Her attention was stolen by the extreme measures Hector and the Sith were taking to feel something. She could relate. Pain was a great distraction from internal turmoil. Sometimes when she was alone, she would use her blades to cut…well, that wasn’t important right now. It looked like Hector and Alaisy were about to maim or kill each other. Or not…looks like it’s over.

Ruka watched the man go with little more said, frowning after him. Something about all this felt wrong. It reeked of the Dark. He could sense it, taste it on his tongue. Closing his eyes, the Mirialan stood there on the empty training floor and let go– of his sight, of the world in focus. He let go of himself.

And reached out.

His hand twitched, a gentling motion, urging the darkness down, a command, the command of a master. It seethed, resisting, but his order was stronger, brighter, wider even then all the depthless, generous, hungry shadow could offer. He knew how to starve. He didn’t need it. And this was not its place, even if those two had summoned it so.

Down, he thought, and willed it. Felt the oppressive and salivating Dark slink back below the surface, leaving an emptiness for something softer to creep back in its place. Glimmers like Melissa, Liliana, Bril, Draca. Even Erinyes and Sinya. It wasn’t about Light or Dark, but about life.

Exhaling, Ruka opened his eyes again, and saw nothing but blurs. He pulled off his glove and stared at his wedding band, a gold glint amidst the blob of green and black. He’d have to bring it closer to his face to see the details. The scars, the metal, the tattoos. He didn’t want to do that here, where someone like Tir'ievra would note it.

Sighing, he strode back out of the arena, headed for the misty frames of his apprentice and the others, intent on welcoming Mela from her match when it finished.

For the first time in the match, Melissa’s attack thwacked against something solid. A piff sounded through the air, and the scent of dry heat wafted upwards from where the training lightsaber scorched Erinyes’ leg armour.

Erinyes did what any sensible person in her position would do: drop into a full front split. After all, if Melissa had really just chopped her lower leg off, she wouldn’t still be on her feet—or even on her foot. Besides, the exertion of the fight was starting to pile up, so she didn’t mind a chance to catch her breath.

When Melissa came back to her guard stance, Erinyes looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Good! Now you can run off and protect someone, or something.” She gestured vaguely at Ruka as the Mirialan walked into the arena and started some kind of metaphysical battle, which would hopefully bring her and Melissa out of their own time pocket and into sync with the rest of the room.

Whatever chronology-warping voodoo was going on in this simulation hall was, indeed, quack.

The Twi’lek’s brow furrowed. What was Ruka doing? They seemed to be cleansing the negative energy from the arena, but why disrupt the balance like that. The force is not to be ordered about like some lap dog begging for scraps at the table. “What a very Sithy thing to do.” She muttered to herself. These folks were just like everyone else, arrogantly dominating the Force rather than flow with it in its natural balance.

As Erinyes and Melissa seemed to be finishing, Ruka briefly turned to Sinya, oblivious to her previous muttering, and offered her a scrap of flimsi he’d taken from his bag and scrawled on.

“My comm code,” he offered. “If you ever need or want anything, ay? It troubled around the Brotherhood. People get hurt when they shouldn’t. If I can help that I will. We in Dajorra, too, or through the Lotus or Envoys, you ever wanna come looking.” <@361376035444490240>

Melissa let out a breath, deactivating the saber and holding it out to Erinyes. She smiled.

“Thank you. I think I’m going to need to look into a normal saber afterall, that.. completely changed things.”

Sinya’ni accepted the flimsiplast and nodded. It was a nice gesture. She doubted she would ever actually use it but you never know when an outside contact would become useful. “Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.” She glanced around at the others gathered here. “This have been an…enlightening experience.”

The Mirialan offered her an awkward but sincere smile, glad she didn’t seem creeped out by the gesture or otherwise bothered. Would she even say if she did though?

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing to Alaisy then back, “it has been. Nice to meet you, Sinya. Thanks for talkin’ to me, see you around, ay?”

With that he left off, moving up with Bril and welcoming Melissa back.

“Well done,” he told Mela, and turn to Erinyes, “thanks a lot. I owe you another one.” <@645466919415054357> <@432543120635461643>

The tall Sith studied every face she saw carefully as she strode past. The anomisoty was tangible, almost the thickness of a soup she could stir with her claw. There was a light twitching in her muscles, not entirely unpleasant.

She made a point to extend her claws from both of her sides, raking in energy from the Living Force as she replenished her ‘battery’. It was accompanied by a slow walk and an even slower hissing of her mask.

“I take it we are done?” She turned her domed visor towards Ruka and then Hector, slightly pivoting her head to the side.

<@476595775187451913> <@244244163002892288>

Ruka narrowed his eyes back, a simple inhale sharpening his vision with it to stare down the predator hovering near them.

“The shoto has its place, but the lightsaber became the ‘traditional weapon of the Jedi’ because the people who used it survived to carry on that tradition.” Erinyes clipped the training saber back to her belt. “You might also want to investigate different Forms. Shien is better at proactively dealing with threats than Soresu.” It wasn’t exactly a duelist’s form, but it was better at dealing with the realities of combat than Soresu, which—to Erinyes’ mind—was for people who didn’t like the idea that weapons should be used to cause harm. What the hell were they for, then?

As the two women strolled out of the arena, Erinyes nodded to Ruka. “Don’t mention it. Teaching lightsaber technique is a lot more fun than most parts of my job, and it gets me out of the office.”

<@244244163002892288>

While the idea of having fun at any job was foreign to him, if not outright irresponsible and offensive, Ruka managed to check himself before any comment could come out. He swallowed his tongue, trying to grin at her but kind of just looking like he was grimacing. “Ay, you a good teacher for it, obviously. Maybe you should be training Mela, not me.” He glanced to the adopted Echani. “Might be better if you both wanted…since me and Cor don’t know Soresu. At least some help anyway.”

“Sure. Or at least, I can teach her something a little more practical, instead of relying on her enemies dying of old age. You and Cora are welcome to join in, too.”

That gave the Mirialan pause. “I’ll tell him. He might like the chance to practice again. Just like dancin’.”

The man’s whole demeanor once again softened as he spoke of his husband, imaging the joy and grace of the Pantoran pirouetting with his saber against the Zeltron.

Once there was a suitable break in Ruka’s conversation with Erinyes, Bril spoke up.

“What you did earlier, when the Dark Side lingered in the area after their duel. You dispelled it … tamed it. How did you do that?”

It had stuck with him since he sensed it in the Force. It was similar to how he used Force suppression, in a way, but it didn’t feel like that. And as far as he knew, Ruka didn’t use the technique as he and Cora did.

Melissa laughed a little sheepishly at that.

Ruka turned his attention to the Zabrak, Mela’s light laugh a welcome sound. His thumb began habitually, anxiously spinning his ring finger round and round on the finger of his bared hand, a habit Bril had noticed ages ago.

“I wouldn’t say mis– dispelled? …I guess tamed is right?” He frowned at himself, flexing his hand. His accented voice was low and serious when he spoke, dark waters and deep rising. “You can’t get rid of the Dark. You know that. It don’t work that way. And it wouldn’t be right if you could– you need both. And you can never let you guard down. Never think the Dark is safe, or friendly. It’s not. It can’t be controlled and it not a dog with a master… It’s more like…like you always fighting, always on. And it’s about whose will, or whatever you wanna say, is stronger. That decides how the current goes. You and Cora and others…Turel used to say the Light moves with you. But the Dark, either you move it or it moves you. It was seething here, after that insane ‘spar.’ Got too…loose. Bleeding over. Would’ve started scratching at folks. I made it sit back down.”

He shrugged, looking pained at his apprentice.

“I’m sorry, Bril, ay, that not helpful. It’s not like some fancy ritual or somethin’ you could force to happen and all. It’s just… it’s a little bit like tellin’ a kid to go to bed when they all awake. It went because I told it to, and it knew I could make it, cause I have before, and I did when it didn’t listen the first time. It’s a respect thing much as a fear thing.”

The Rylothian eavesdropped on brill and Ruka’s conversation. Rolling her eyes that Ruka thought the Force could be treated like a child. Besides it’s not like the dark Side was some malevolent entity prowling about like a lion seeking someone to devour. The darkness was brought by the individual. The malevolence and sinister desires of sentients tainted the Force. She spoke low to Bril as not to openly challenge Ruka’s statements but to hopefully enlighten the Nightbrother…errr, Zabrak that seemed to still be formulating their world view.“The Force is not Light or Dark. It only reflects what is inside you. If you fear the Dark, your should look inside yourself and confront it.” Sinya’ni nodded to Hector as she returned her voice to normal volume. “Thank you. It has been a very interesting training and I have learned a lot. Until next we meet,” she waved as she made for the exit a bit faster than was customary.

The Mirialan sighed as he looked after the Twi'lek. “Fear is a healthy part of respect when you’re dealing with something that will swallow you…” he muttered. Turning back to his apprentices, he gestured for the exit and smiled. “Well… You both did amazing, you too, Draca. How about some ice cream for it?”

<@837236610684813342> <@432543120635461643> <@1056685516441006091>

Bril didn’t say anything; instead, he listened to what his master had to say. Nodding quietly with his hands folded in front of him, he catalogued Ruka’s words away so he could ruminate on them further at a later date.

Sinya’s comment earned a puzzled look from him, though. Why had she assumed that he was afraid of the Dark Side? He never said anything to suggest as much.

“Some amount of fear is healthy, yes. I felt it often prior to my matches at the Belkada,” he noted, before nodding in thanks. “Thank you, master.”

Draca perked up like a creature in the desert that had heard its favourite meal was on display. He lickedchis lips, his eyes sparkling. Food, or rather, ice cream, in this case, was really the fastest way to getting on Draca’s good side. Ruka right then and there almost became the Jedi’s favourite person in that room.

Almost, but not quite. I mean, come on, now. Melissa got him ice cream all the time.

“Sounds good to me!” The Zabrak practically bounced on the soles of his feet, but then walked to Melissa. He was both impressed and proud of her after that display. “Hey, are you OK?”

<@432543120635461643>

Melissa beamed at Ruka’s praise, making an excited ooooo at the prospect of ice cream.

She laughed again at Dracas far more prominent excitement, holding her hand out for the Zabrak as he approached and nodding, “Yeah, that was- it was good.” Shed almost said fun, but between her own hesitations around fighting and Rukas training it felt strange to say it. To mean it. That had been exciting. “I think I need a normal length lightsaber though. I like my Shoto but, Erinyes made a good point. I dont think id ever want to fight aggressively enough to use it properly.”

<@244244163002892288>

Draca then remembered what Ruka had said. He pursed his lips for a moment and grabbed the second lightsaber hilt and offered it to her.

“Then we’ll get you one…” he began, only for Draca to offer up once of his suddenly. He blinked.

Well. Saber crafting was usually a fairly personal process, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t be given.

Melissa blinked, looking from the saber to Draca. It was generous, beyond it, but that was his.

“Draca.. you don’t have to do that.” She spoke softly.

“I know, but I want too,” he smiled back at her. “It’s the very least I can do.”

While he appreciated the sentiment, especially because he wouldn’t hesitate to give Minnow anything of his if she needed it, Bril nonetheless found Draca’s gesture to be a bit malapropos. He’d already imprinted on his kyber crystal, and Melissa deserved the opportunity to make her own. But it wasn’t Bril’s place to say.

He could, however, opine on her reasoning for wanting a new saber in the first place.

“It is a good point, Mela. And you’re really good at building things, too, so I’m sure crafting a new saber will come easily to you,” he said. It surely would come far easier to her than it had for him. She’d personally seen her found-brother’s own frustration when redesigning Agane, his crossguard saber. If it weren’t for her suggestions, it likely would’ve taken him far longer to finish.

<@432543120635461643>

{TW abelist internalization}

Ruka smiled at Bril’s encouragements, keeping one ear – the only one at that – on the conversation as his thoughts drifted again and he once again let the world go washed out like spilled watercolors on Cora’s canvass. It was hard to hold himself here, in their conversation, in a place not their home, and have that loss of sense. But he needed to practice it. As Draca had noticed in seconds, he wasn’t what he’d been before Kasiya. He was inept, unable, too fragile for someone kind as Draca to fight. For the promise he’d made to Sinya, for the promises he made to keep Bril and Mela and Draca all safe, if Tir'ievra had actually decided to try to get to them, would he have actually been able to defend? Would he be able to protect them? Or would be fail? Especially to a creature like her, who twisted minds. The Caxqettes had taken him every single time. Turned him against the people he promised and swore to serve as their ally and Proconsul, against innocent civilians, against his husband and children. How easy would it be for her to break him? Especially given she seemed to share a bond with those monsters.

The doubts swirled, muddying the water like so many mixed paints. It seemed cruel, how he didn’t even notice himself staring off unfocused, because he already couldn’t focus on anything in sight.

But Melissa and Bril had both gained something from today, and none of the kids had gotten hurt. He had to keep those positives in mind. Not let the bad thoughts take over. He was going to keep telling these three how amazing they were and spoil their dinners on ice cream like they were actually children again.

Or at least Draca’s. His apprentices had some moderation for sweets.

Tuning back in, the Mirialan blinked, a useless effort overall to clear his vision, and picked the snowy white and orange blobs of his apprentices to stare at while they awaited Melissa’s choice, thinking of grass hats.

Draca wanted to recoil slightly. He looked back to Ruka, seeing the look on his face, hearing Bril’s words on crafting a saber.

Yeah, she could do that, but she could still have one for the moment until she was ready to make one of her own. Lightsabers were… incredibly stubborn to make behave at the best of times.

His head darted back and forth between everyone at once, including Tir'eivra, Erinyes, Hector, and Sinya.

What had he done? Was it something he’d said?

Melissa smiled, taking it with both hands.

“Thank you, Draca.” She held it carefully, admiring it for a moment before looking back up to him, “Truly.”

After all, even if she didn’t use it forever and ever, it would give her time to acclimate to a full length saber. It gave her time to accrue the parts, to work out the process at her own pace without concern of time. He gave her time, at the very least.

“That’s really nice of you, Draca,” the Mirialan spoke, trying to make up for his brief spiraling. “Didn’t mean the whole just try one thing had to be like…now… But it’s really nice of you.”

He glanced to Mela.

“You’re gonna match the Clan ships, with that one,” he tried to joke.

He and Qyriea really had intended to repaint the fleet, but not only was there a surprising amount of resistance, but it was a sink of resources and time when frankly they had parsecs more practical matters to attend to, wars to fight, laws to rewrite, a military to restructure, aid to give, the entire reorganization and reaffirmation of the Dajorran Confederacy along with bringing the Commonwealth of Selen into its own, possibly first, truly fair electorate, which would now have to happen under Zuza and Diy…

Things other than painting, really.

Though there was also painting. Infrastructure around Selen, mainly Estle, had been a significant part of their day to day, one he’d had to get good at and did thanks to Cora under Rhylance. Painting buildings and speeder lane and park maintenance, now that was important.

And the navy liked the legend that their colors literally blinded enemy fleets anyway.

Ruka shook himself.

It wasn’t his job anymore to think about such things, no matter where he’d been in the middle of some two thousand city projects.