Session export: Envoy Lightsaber Training 2

“You know, Ibaka really needs to be pinker, babe,” mused Minnow while gripping the controls of his Tie Reaper. A grin formed on the sunny nautolan’s face as Bril stepped forward from her right, as if she could feel the furrow forming in his brow.

“Pur'ka, we talked about this,” Bril responded while lifting a hand to lovingly squeeze her shoulder, “You’re on probation from decorating after the … closet incident.” He shuddered.

Morra, who had been watching radiant streaks of white light zip past them through the ship’s viewport, turned to regard them both with a quizzical expression.

“The closet incident?” she asked with an amused yet apprehensive tone.

Bril shook his head. “I’ll spare you the details of that day, Morra, and myself the horrors of having to relive them.”

As Bril’s head dropped, Minnie rolled her eyes. “He’s so dramatic.”

<@244244163002892288> <@315438760428961793>

“Honestly, Kitty…it is nawt that bad, thankyouvurymuch. Don’t listen to him, Morry baby. Pink is an amazing color and we’ll find you a shade you like yet.” She turned to smile over her shoulder, beaming. “Foxxie got me anything I wanted when I was a kid so everything was pink. Brilliant here doesn’t know the half of it.”

-

Set status: O.K. enough for this.

Confirm?

…

Assessing:

Respirations: high.

Heart rate: high.

Sleep: 6.43 hours, longest stretch in 37 days without being awake <80 hours beforehand. This is improvement.

He has not lost time in significant amounts in 6 days. Has been able to stand certain clothes on the skin for any length of time for 4 of the last 5. Has not vomited in the same amount, and has actually eaten at least once each day, twice the last two.

And they have been together every day of the last 16 days since–

Deny: replay.

Deny.

DENY.

The body remembers regardless. The arms feel the pull of near dislocation in sockets, the skin the itch of dirt and the press of restraint. The body remembers a collar, not Then, but 28 months ago, a weight and chaffing and burning around the throat for 5+ years. Burning. Dry skin. Savage teeth. Nails and crude weapons and teeth and horns and blood and sand and steam and whips–

An olive hand touches his,a stylized ink outline of teeth lovingly imprinted on it, and he is Home.

Not there, not then. Not two years or two weeks ago. Here and now.

“O.K?” Flyndt asks him again, repeating his original question as they finish docking procedure on motherfrakking Arx of all places – and he made sure there was fuel this time. The Omwati looks at him with searching sunset eyes, crest rising then flattening, chin tilted and his expression glinting with hints of stubbornness and worry all at once. Someone else would call him aloof. Someone else was wrong. “Bapt? I am serious. We do not have to.”

Sure, we don’t have to. After hiding from our lives for two weeks because I couldn’t function otherwise.

But that’s also a deny. They were both broken down. It wasn’t his fault, she was wrong, she was wrong.

This thought he sets to repeat, because they are Flyndt’s truth. Their truth.

1/

And they’ve come so far for this. Bril and Erinyes had negotiated resources for Flyndt’s access to these facilities. He wanted to better learn how to use his lightsaber, his whi’s spirit, to fight. To get stronger. To be more efficient. To kill anyone that would harm them first. To not be hurt again.

Foxen understood all those things, and even if he hadn’t, whatever Flyndt wanted would happen. He’d ensure it.

So they were getting off this ship. And going in there.

And if it all went terrible, he had extracted a promise from Bril to put him down if Flyndt and Minnow would not.

Oh and the Morra.

Great time to properly meet the kid, really, just fantastic.

At least he can be sarcastic in his own head again. It’s progress. Not all progress was lost in the collapse and reset.

Flyndt holds his hand, and loves him, and that is–

O.K., he replied, confirm.

Set status: be O.K. enough for this.

Confirm: confirm.

“OK…” his Omwati sounded uncertain still, and so he added another promise on top of all the vows he had given this man already and forever and always.

If too much, I will signal.

“And we leave. Immediately.” Flyndt nodded in barest satisfaction. Then more hesitation. He lingered rather than pull his hand away to put his gloves on.

This was hard for him, too.

O.K.? Foxen checked this time. We leave if too much. And I will kill anyone that harms you.

“No killing today,” Flyndt huffed. “Likely. Yes. I am O.K.” He clacked his beak, flashing mottled tongue. “Want to try.”

O.K. I love you, ner vercopa.

“I love you too.” He shifted, then used his other hand to tap his inked lips.

Foxen smiled, helpless, and leaned forward to kiss.

They parted, and gathered their things, and disembarked.

2/

The Lunar Training Facility was a model of tactical wargames ingenuity and toothless brutality. The parts of his mind that were weapons-grade appreciated it to a degree. A non-zero part of him acknowledged it was better than a slave pit for jediit to massacre plebians like him in by the thousands for practice. An upgrade from Antei.

Oh, yippie, Ashen, again. Because it was a great day for threats on the scale of Death Stars and complete planetary collapse packaged in one sack of abysmal facial hair and a shade of purple out of season three decades ago.

At least Erinyes was, per 70% of the time, presentable.

That just left the other half of their party to await at the entrance.

3/3 <@244244400488710155>

42 ABY
The Nocte Drakon In flight to Arx Minor

*The Elder had mused to herself that she shouldn’t go, and to be honest didn’t really need to go to a lightsaber training center, especially since she had kept up her own regiment, no matter how much sleep, how busy, or how tired she was. But the excursions that Ro-Tahn had begged her to go on had been… for the most part relaxing.

When the invitation had been posted, she had initially read it, sent it to her apprentice, and then forgot about it, till now. Now that she had had time to relax and actually think a little, she decided to take the invitation and at least hone her skills, and if possible learn a bit about other’s styles and techniques. She could only hope her apprentice would show up as well.*

The Lunar Training Facility Arx Minor

Upon touchdown and checking in at the inner lobby of the facilities entrance, she was impressed by how well equipped the place and staff were. Zuska lay under her feet as she sat in the waiting area, watching as others came in, while sending a message to Erinyes that she had made it and was looking forward to this experience.

The luminous blue expanse outside the cockpit of a Phi-class shuttle swiftly gave way to numerous lines of glowing blue and white that swirled through space for but a moment before collapsing down into countless tiny specks of distant stars. As the ship exited hyperspace and turned toward the now nearby world, its pilot gave brief consideration to re-entering the glowing void and changing course entirely. Unsure of exactly what his goal here was, Jade couldn’t help but be drawn to the idea of seeing adept practitioners of this weapon he sometimes carried first hand.

The shuttle howled as it cut down to angle for atmospheric approach. Jade had read the old tomes, heard the stories, seen the carved representations, and even had brief encounters with some who wielded them, but he’d yet to truly have a chance to see lightsabers used against each other by those who knew how to use them, and despite himself, he was rather excited.

The shuttle hummed and purred as the man inside dropped it down onto the landing zone. Moments later, the ramp opened with a crack and hiss before he descended onto this new world. He took but a moment to orient himself before heading towards where others seemed to already have arrived. A brief smile flashed across his lips before he quickly killed it.

This might actually be fun.

Let them hate, so long as they fear.

Even her own thoughts were clichéd at this point. She figured the meetings of the mind in her Garden of Trepidations were getting rather stale. There was a need for confrontation, struggle, fear and pain. Something to keep the blood flowing. The last training was perhaps too much looking at Green Daddy and his merry band of tightly leashed pups. It helped that Ricmore gave her a proper taste at the end, but she wanted more, especially after the abrupt cessation of the duel.

Physically there was not as much of an urge. A group of anarchistic protesters thought a Governess would be easy pickings at dusk. Aphotis felt her cheeks press against her mask as she smiled at the thought. Perhaps she allured them to the thought of vulnerability at the time, stymied by the public showing of the new Kasiyan Refugee District via holocam. It must have been too tempting. Now they served as decorations in her office. A reminder. And their delicious fear, their dying screams made for a great rest. Her claws were satisfied.

No, it was the mind that needed the extra exercise. She wished to broaden her pool of knowledge. Experiment with the lightwhip. Not because she respected the weapon. Not even because it was particularly effective in her hands. Lightsabers, like any weapon, were tools, and unlike her claws and heels, they did not feel the cutting of the flesh. It was merely to satisfy her intelligence, it was how she learned. Talking and meetings and social interaction were no methods to perfect oneself. It was the dance itself, calculating, predicting, adapting, seeking and tasting the honey that was the dread that everyone carried around.

The soup of aura’s assaulted her upon arrival, both familiar and strange. One could sniff out their intentions within a heartbeat. Who would be the first to pique her interest? Her high heels announced her arrival, electric-blue eyes behind a dark dome scanning for prey.

Having seen the tall woman approach, Tahiri had put away her datapad and stood up, the vornskr at her feet stretching before fully standing at attention, before recognizing the very familiar scent.

The petite Togruta returned the scarlet tressed woman’s hug with the same enthusiasm. “Hey Erinyes! Good to see you too.” Flashing her signature bright fanged smile, before chuckling at fact that Zuska almost seemed to melt into Erin’s scritches. Her eyebrow cocked as her eyes followed to whom the Emissary’s attention had gone to.

Bril had done his best.

To teach him.

He was not an easy student. Easily frustrated, gnort-headed, combative. The only boon as a pupil was his inability to give up a challenge, to abandon what he set his mind to, to admit defeat.

That was a flaw in its own right, was it not?

To not admit defeat.

Yet the Omwati would not have come this far if he ever had. However, he was becoming bluntly aware of how much he lacked in his skills. How much he relied on sense and connection, and his skills with metal blades alone for his saberpike. .

Lightsabers. They were rare within the Omwati Order. What few may have been carried at the time of his study and service, he had never seen in action. Bril had helped him months ago to research designs, to draft his own. A homage in its crafting to the cadmium crystal it was to harbor. He helped him find and train a saber form that was foreign even to the Zabrak, but between his academic prowess and Flyndt’s history with polearms they found something workable for the latter.

It was not enough though.

So when he asked Bril to train again – seriously and heavily after his Aunti had left – and the Zabrak mentioned this class on Arx ran by no other than Erinyes herself, he accepted. The opportunity to learn Niman from a trained adherent of the form? Please.

These thoughts played back in his head as their authorization codes were approved for access. As much as he mildly loathed a massive organization like the Brotherhood having his information, it would be foolish to think they had not made one of their dossiers on him. He had fought in their ethereal war and responded to their missions and calls for aid.

Flyndt entered inside with Foxen on his heels, his saberpike strapped over his shoulder and his dark teal vest. His sunset gaze took in the facility and those present, how vastly different it felt to the Omwati Order’s. He found a spot out of the way to wait for Bril, Minnie, and the Zabrak’s young student. Those gathered already were unfamiliar, save Erinyes who he gave a greeting nod, saving approach later when there was not a beast afoot, mindful of Foxen beside him.

When Aiden recieved the message of a lightsaber training program, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. The Mandalorian loved a good fight, and there were sure to be all levels of combatant available for such an event. The benefits were plenty, helping the untrained become more proficient, facing off against other masters of their particular forms, and overall a fun time.

So when he arrived at the facility he wasn’t surprised by those in attendance. Walking along the walls of the area he took in his surroundings and prepared himself for whatever excitement came his way today. After a few quick modifications, his sabers were set to training conditions, their strikes set merely to stunning instead of loss of limb or even death. No need for any training accidents where they could be avoided.

Seeing Erinyes, he gave a polite bow. Respect needed to be earned, and she certainly earned hers.

After Minnie moored Ibaka within the Arx Minor private hangar and went through her post-flight checklist, she rose from the pilot’s seat and stretched her arms high above her head with a soft squeak. Bril reached out to take her hand.

“You sure you want to stay on the ship, pur'ka?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sure, Kitty. You two go enjoy your Forcy stuff and lightsaber training. I’m sure Femi and I will find something to do in the meantime.” As if on cue, the snow-colored tooka perked up upon hearing her name. Minnie made kissy faces at her before turning back to her zabrak. “You did restock the boba fridge, right?”

“Yes, I restocked the boba fridge,” he replied with a playful roll of his eyes. Why she needed her own mini fridge stocked with boba drinks of various flavors was beyond him. But, what the Boba Lord desired, the Boba Lord got. Bril leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

“I’ll tell the bros hello for you.”

After that, he turned to Morra and gestured for her to join him at the ship’s loading ramp.

<@244244163002892288>

<:BrilSymbol:1229273661266067506>

The master-apprentice duo entered the Training Facility proper not far from where Tahiri and Erinyes were standing. He greeted them Erinyes with a bow and a “General” before stepping forward to embrace Tahiri in a hug.

“Good to see you again, godmother,” he said in Togruti.

Then, he extended his hand in a gesture to the young lady standing to his right. “This is my apprentice, Morra Galo. Morra, I’d like you to meet General Seraine Taldrya Ténama, the Emissary of the Brotherhood, and also my godmother, Quaestrix Tahiri Thorn Morte Tarentae, di Plagia.” He inhaled. Why did all of his friends and relatives have such long names? Now, he understood where he got it from.

<@315438760428961793> <@645466919415054357> <@375384499770359819>

<:BrilSymbol:1229273661266067506>

A brief scan of the facility’s interior revealed a few familiar faces, one he’d rather not have seen and the other two whom he’d planned to meet here. Bril lifted his hand into the air to grab their attention.

“FLYNDT. BROCEPHALUS. GLAD YOU TWO MADE IT!”

He smiled brightly.

<@244244400488710155> <@244244163002892288>

Jade made his way from his ship to the training facility with an unhurried pace. Reaching out with his senses, he could make out the force user signatures of several people, but little else. He still wasn’t used to feeling this amount of them in one place. Undeterred however, he pressed on into the facility proper.

Entering into the large space dedicated for this training session, he could make out those he had sensed who had already arrived, though other than Alaisy, they were all entirely unfamiliar to him. It seemed people were still settling in and perhaps still waiting for others to arrive. Jade made his way across the room and settled in quietly near the wall to observe.

Brocephalus.

The urge to block Bril in person by inserting his spiked head back through his anus was increasing rapidly.

His left hand was gripping one of Flyndt’s sashes, two of four remaining digits hooked in. They’d migrated there the moment the small Togruta walked in with a canine beside her. The mind and body both screamed. It just didn’t come with sound.

At least not more than a rasping wheeze from his throat, gutteral.

He took another step closer to his Home, leaving barely 3 cm space between their sides touching.

The eyes surveyed the room, taking in further entrances. A figure as tall as him in living? latex with a whip hilt hanging on her corseted hourglass waist. Her attire and accessories altogether were so slick as a totality it was lickable, with the blades of those heels; ones meant for show-walking and sitting poses, not actual use. Her feet would be hooves from that. But he could respect the sheer commitment to the aesthetic.

She also screamed jediit Sith and dominatrix at the top of her lungs, so, deny.

Another male, currently insignificant, also likely jediit, given being here. Likely only he and Minnie back on the ship were the mundane sacrifices. And that was the male from the station, which was its own slew of denied memories too traumatizing to be O.K. for this right now.

Gross.

He gestured with his free hand to Flyndt.

You can leave me here, go engage. Watch the woman in black. Whip-user. That one in purple is A-S-H-E-N. Former G-R-A-N-D Master. Leader of whole brotherhood. Planet killer. Literally. He completely destroyed/drained the last Brotherhood capital. A pause. Can’t go near that dog. Can’t. I’m sorry.

<@244244400488710155>

He moved quietly through the hallways. Yet another permutation of the ancient Morph Hall was said to be hidden here, and a call for training was made. They hadn’t understood fully the technology that enabled the Morph Hall back decades ago, so they were forced to make do with replicas of varying quality ever since the Stennes vanished. Technology, magic, some mixture thereof, it didn’t matter now. Black eyes finally found the path, the set of doors ahead a few paces.

Hopefully, this would calm his mind. His seemingly ceaseless operations in deep space, hunting for things he wasn’t even entirely sure how to describe had been put by the wayside by what was to come. The whispers of the Force had become a screaming match and with it, his path was made both clearer and not. Returning to Sadow space, taking up a mantle he had shaken off decades prior, and playing the game of machinations once again was necessary. He had already heard all of the rumors and conspiracy theories about his return, and dismissed them all the same. Not everyone would see him the way that he had hoped. Antei’s fall saw to that. Yet somehow, it seemed easier then, to take up the mantle of villain if it meant unification. Jac had convinced him otherwise. Maybe he shouldn’t have let him. It would be simpler to live with it that way.

He watched the doors slide apart, the observation deck revealing itself. Muz stepped forward, boots falling as heavily as his spirit felt these days. Here, he had hoped to watch the artistry of their blades, to forget those troubles for a moment, to forget the veneer he had to use. He looked out upon the floor, eyes registering a number of faces he hadn’t seen before. They stretched and chattered amongst themselves, cavorting in different degrees of amusement and wariness. Preparing to learn the lessons that only sweat and failure could teach. Muz sighed, putting a hand on the frame and leaning slightly.

It was a simpler time.

The door to the observation room hissed open for Jade to enter before closing quickly behind him. This room was quieter, less filled with the chatter of comrades. He didn’t feel the need to approach the one person he knew here, and he was in no hurry to force himself into interactions with strangers. He walked further into the room and took a seat near the glass. There was only one other man in the room, and he too seemed to be quietly observing. As the other glanced his way, Jade gave him a nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention to the glass.

“You as well Lady Erinyes, or shall I say Emissary. Your work in what was once my Clan has reached my ears. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Should you need any assistance with teacher the lightsaber art, or should you wish for a duel between masters, I am at your disposal.” Aiden spoke with genuine respect for the woman.

<@645466919415054357>

Tahiri embraced Bril tightly, before stepping back and turning, giving a small bow to his apprentice, smiling. She stifled the chuckle that threatened to come out as Bril introduced her.

“E yehsa ke och yeh kee, ye tungu'ko (It’s good to see you too, godson). It’s a pleasure and honor to meet you, Morra Galo. Please call me Tahiri,” she spoke in Togruti first, and then seamlessly transitioned to Basic for Morra.

A slightly mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her mouth before she spoke again, “I hope Bril has been as good a teacher as he was a learner.” She did raise an eyebrow as she turned her head to see who Bril was greeting. Her normally yellow Sith eyes, were masked by her original grey hues as they roamed over the two people standing in other corner of the room. She was a little intrigued by the tall predatory looking Nautolan with the unusual horns, although she saw the anxiousness in his body language. Was that his actual name or was it a nickname?, she thought to herself as she nodded in a friendly fashion their way. I’ll have to ask Bril that later.

<@1056685516441006091> <@315438760428961793> <@244244163002892288>

The memories of that day came.flooding back into the Mandalorians head. The news of impending destruction. The betrayal of the Dark Council to Taldryan. The revenge against his warning his Clan. Without realizing it, he moved to touch his left shoulder, where his metallic arm rested.

“That is a time period I don’t relish remembering. I am glad to know my efforts and sacrifices were not in vain. Regardless of what came after. ”

Shaking free of those thoughts, he returned to a more relaxed position.

“We shall see. And when our blades do clash, let them be as rivals, and perhaps brethren from the past.”

Foxen tilted his head down towards the Zeltron in a nod, bypassing the niceties that Flyndt could address if he truly felt like it – as their presence made it obvious they had not had trouble – and signing one-handed, beginning with touching hand to chin.

Thank you for the opportunity. You look acceptable today.

With Flyndt beside him, with the last weeks of affirmation, he could achieve humor again as well as sarcasm. While his black, speckled granite face didn’t shift in the slightest, there was amusement in his gesture with the looseness of it.

Confirm.

Two leather clad fingers raised in a greeting gesture back towards Bril, a brief small smile despite the Omwati’s birthmarked forehead furrowing slightly in mild confusion. His verbal response was quelled by Foxen shifting closer to him, garnering his attention. His partner’s fingers knitted and tethered to his belts. Making an effort to reach out through the Force to understand why, was unneeded, even if it took him a moment to register the vornskr in the room.

Flyndt pivoted slightly as Foxen gestured to him, listening to the suggestion of mingle and the information on a couple of the individuals present. He of course already knew Bril and Erinyes, the teen with the former only by assumption that she was Morra. The armored mandalorian seemed familiar, from where he couldn’t recall and wasted little time trying. A sideways gaze looked towards the tall woman, however…

Planet Killer.

A tsk escaped him at the description, the title. Literally, Foxen has clarified. The Omwati Force user, heralding from an order that practices connection with the Living Force as much as they valued its enlightenment, was immediately and respectively shooked. A being with the power to kill an entire living planet. Shoulders tensing, Flyndt pivoted and fixed his gaze upon the violet-clad man, staring as he warred with this revelation. His stripes crimson crest atop his head flared, feathers twitching, until he pulled his gaze away.

Exhale. .

Foxen, canine, right. “I understand, heard. Will mind, and it is O.K…if better, could watch from –”

He did not get to finish recommending the observation deck, even if Ashen was there it was still a barrier between the Nautolan hybrid and the creature. Approaching footsteps announced Erinyes’ presence. He dipped his head in greeting.

“Erinyes, hello. No trouble was given, no.” Once again, a mild harmless confusion flitted across his usually blank face. “Of course, it would be rude not to come after all your effort to make so. Thank you, again. I…know not what to expect here, and will follow your instructions.”

<@645466919415054357>

Morra

There were so many people here, so many faces she didn’t recognize. She’d briefly opened her awareness to the Force and felt the quantity and sheer magnitude of the other Force users present. She felt her hair stand on end, especially when she felt the presence of one of the men standing in the facility’s observation deck. He was like an endless void, threatening to consume anything that got too close. She shuddered and stepped closer to where Bril was standing.

Although she hadn’t said anything to Erinyes and Tahiri, she had given them a polite nod in response to their greetings.

Bril

“Perhaps we’ll be able to have a spar of our own today,” said Bril to Tahiri with a smile, “It’s been a while.”

He paused for a moment when he felt Morra’s mood changed. Turning to place a hand on her shoulder, he gave her an encouraging nod before addressing Tahiri again.

“We’re going to make the rounds, Tahiri. Gotta introduce Morra to Flyndt and the big head over there.”

He offered his godmother another hug and scritches for Zuska before stepping away with Morra in tow. As they walked, Morra began to speak.

“How do you stay so calm with all these people around?”

Bril looked over at her. “Do you mean because of their presence here or in the Force?”

“Both.”

He remained quiet to contemplate his answer. Once he found a suitable one, the older of the two Arconans replied, saying, “Well, I grew up with a very large family. My people really take the whole ‘it takes a village’ thing to heart, so I’ve always been used to being around a lot of people.

"For the Force, though, that took a lot of time and practice. I’ve always been very … sensitive, in that regard, so I had to learn how to quiet things down when I was young.”

Morra listened intently and nodded to convey her understanding. “Can you show me?”

“Of course, Morra. I’ll show you after I introduce you to Foxen and Flyndt.”

She smiled. “Deal.”

Foxen watched the quiet, internal alarm play across his partner’s features as he looked at Ashen, then the endearing confusion to Erinyes. He grimaced though at description of the arena. That she didn’t know how it worked was unsatisfactory. Couldn’t guarantee use. An expert was needed.

Define simulate injuries without actual harm. Not just weapons. What about powers. Is there pain. Is there damage to clothing/gear in these conditions. Flyndt’s clothing is precious, he signed, gestures sharp and robotic now compared to the lighter greeting. Define expected parameters of other participants. Electricity/lightning, fire, bondage, animals, magic mental torture, whips, all bad for me/us. Parameters given to me: ‘no killing allowed, likely.’ But if someone hurts him beyond parameters given the grants. There will be violence.

He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t need to.

<@244244400488710155>

That got a full eyelid twitch spasm.

He’s on thin fraking ice is what he is, the Nautolan groused. And going to get a personal look inside his own anal cavity if he keeps this up in public where others can hear him.

A huff of a growl.

Dating my baby sister. Important to her == important to me. Make it happen. The memory replayed of Flyndt telling Bril they were courting. Truly the first person he’d told at all, and about them. Of solemn walks and a conversation. How Flyndt called him Known. He is acceptable. I have made him promise to neutralize me if my trauma exceeds my control while we are here, if that assuages your diplomatic responsibility any. Confirm, avoid simulator. And possibly others. Do you have dossier on that one.

He pointed at the whip-wielder.

“Understood,” Flyndt finally spoke up, having said little the past minute other than to fill in as needed where Erinyes’ sign comprehension may have lacked. He uncrossed his arms and removed the saberpike that had been tucked in the crook of his elbow since affirming he possessed it today. Setting the weapon aside against the wall, the shorter man turned back and pivoted to a more closed position, hiding his hands. ‘Noted. I will refrain from engaging. Many more can train with, to test.’

Affirmation done, the Omwati stepped back towards the wall. His gloved hands set about undoing the wooden clasps of his vest coat, the uppermost ones being the most difficult. Flyndt soon moved past them only to pause when most of the garment hung open to start working at his belt and sashes at his waist. So focused he was, he left no further comment as he stripped out of the outer layer of his clothes to the tan tunic and lighter vest beneath.

Foxen also grunted in acknowledgement, signing back, Confirm, thank you, Erinyes.

The Nautolan hybrid stepped after Flyndt, though aware of Bril and the Morra making their way over as well. He stood guardian while Flyndt had his Whi set against the wall, and began undres..s…ing…

Focus.

Ugh.

Red eyes moved forcefully back to the room at large at the incoming ‘Master-Apprentice but totally not in a bad way, bro’ duo.

<@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357>

The Elder, noticing the neverousness, nodded to the young girl, offering her another bright and friendly smile. Her eyes lit up at mentioning of a possible sparring session with her godson.

“Yes it has been a while.. If we get the chance to, I would absolutely love to spar, Bril,” her smile had become a big grin at this point, eagerly hugging the tall Zabrak. Tahiri watched as they left to greet the others across the room while she then checked her sabers settings and secured her other weapons. Turning her attention to Erinyes in the middle of the room.

Bril and Morra stopped just a few feet from where Foxen and Flyndt were standing to listen to Erinyes when she started speaking. Save for the drama with Alaisy during the last one, the event had proven to be an enjoyable one. Fruitful, too. He’d continued in his studied of Niman and even redesigned one of his sabers since then. And he’d gifted Morra his own lightsaber from when he was a Novitiate.

“What is this simulation grid she mentioned?” the Ilohian girl asked.

“I’m not entirely sure how the technology works, but it uses some kind of ultra-immersive holotech to create different environments and enemies for more advanced training. You can feel everything that happens in it, too. Members of the Envoy Corps sometimes use it to run through potential scenarios prior to going out on missions,” explained Bril.

“Envoy Corps?”

Bril pointed to the multi-spoked broach attached to his utility belt. “We go on missions, take contracts and bounties throughout the galaxy. Everyone has their reasons for doing it, but I see it as a convenient way to help make a difference outside our system. The perks aren’t so bad, either.” He winked.

They stepped over to where Foxen and Flyndt were standing, and Bril placed a hand on Morra’s shoulder to help in keeping her centered. She was shy, that much was clear, but he felt her getting to meet some of the people he trusted and cared about could be good for her.

“Hey, you two,” he began, waving at the couple before gesturing to his apprentice. “This is the one I told you about, Morra. Morra this is Flyndt, and Foxen.”

The Ilohian remained two steps behind where Bril stood, eyeing the Omwati and his towering beau with a curious yet guarded look. “Nice to meet you,” she intoned.

<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>

Foxen narrowed his eyes at Bril for the earlier bro comment, flipping him the back of his hand from under his chin, then looked down at the mammalian teenager, assessing. Covered completely, loose clothing, casual, non-intricate, generic polyester and cottons, unlikely to be culturally significant like Flyndt’s. Small scars on her face and neck, traveling down to below the hoodie. Shy/frightened body language, eyes that kept straining downwards as if making eye contact was difficult.

Minnie had said she was a former slave too.

The Nautolan glanced back at Flyndt to check, then slowly lowered himself down to a crouch, putting them on level. He took his datapad from its sheath, typing, then balanced it on one knee while he held up a finger for her in a universal gesture of wait, and then motioned at his face, attention.

He signed, Hello. I am Foxen, F-O-X-E-N, Foxen. I can hear you, but I don’t talk. It is good to meet you.

Then he showed her the pause again, and turned the datapad around. It displayed a very similar message:

Hello. I am Foxen, F-O-X-E-N, Foxen. I am showing you my name sign and how to spell my name in fingerspelling. I can hear you, but I don’t talk. It is good to meet you. How do you spell your name, so that I can use it correctly?

Flyndt finished securing the folds of his pants, now wrapped tighter under his leg wraps instead of flowing loosely at and above his knees. With a quick tucking of his scarf’s tails into his belt, the Omwati stood and gave Erinyes a nod to show understanding – his interests already relayed to her for…the most part. His gaze fell on Foxen and he shifted to face him, when he noticed Bril and his apprentice approaching. A sigh. He turned instead towards the pair, truly interested in meeting the Zabrak’s pupil.

He waited for his partner’s introduction and the human to read the datapad. A gloved hand tapped Foxen’s shoulder, followed by a quick ask, ‘Want me to interpret? Do not mind.’

“It is good to meet you as well, Morra,” Flyndt then dipped his head and placed two fingers to his right shoulder, a gesture of genuine greeting. “Have heard much praise from Bril about your progress.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@315438760428961793>

Sure. Thank you. Just showing her the option for when you’re busy, Foxen replied, having heard the sigh and tilting his head. What is wrong?

‘O.K.’ Flyndt nodded in understanding, unfolding his arm from his greeting to Morra. He paused, only briefly since they were in conversation with others and introductions, to consider response. ‘I…Can talk after, later? O.K? Soon.’

O.K. Foxen signed back, pierced brows creasing with concern. After they go.

An affirming nod.

Morra paid careful attention to the movement of Foxen’s fingers as he signed, doing her best to mimick the movements. Although she was by no means perfect, she demonstrated an attention to detail that many people, especially at her age, lacked. She spelled out her name in response. “M-O-R-R-A.”

Flyndt’s comment about Bril’s praise cause the faintest line of red to form amidst the freckles scattered across her cheeks, and she started massaged her arm while looking away. “I’m not that great, really…”

<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155> <@315438760428961793>

M-O-R-R-A, Foxen spelled back, showing her the letters one at a time and maintaining the R while moving the sign to the side to indicate its doubling. Sure you’re great. Bril, B-R-I-L, Bril wouldn’t have us meet you otherwise. He knows better than to introduce me to anyone not up to par. Then he added a wink.

Flyndt, F-L-Y-N-D-T, Flyndt, name sign. Most important one, confirm. Do you want your own? You can pick or we can give you one. Don’t have to decide now. Helpful for future though. Mind if Flyndt interprets for me? Otherwise we can use the pad.

Flyndt paused in his relaying at the wink, the twitch of a smile gracing his lips temporarily. He continued on, breaking slightly at the end when he realized Foxen was asking preference. No matter, either way works and whatever is most comfortable for the two.

Although Morra didn’t give him an answer as to whether she wanted her own name sign, she did seem like she was considering it. As for his question of using Flyndt as an interpreter, Morra shook her head. “Either is okay, really. Whichever is easier for you two,” she said.

<@244244400488710155> <@315438760428961793>

Foxen turned and smiled at Flyndt, adoring, angling his face so Morra wouldn’t see the full brunt of it; his sharklike maw was superiorly horrific to many. Red met sunset as his pinky-less hand flashed, I love you.

Then he turned back to the little Human.

I like when he lends me his song. He always respects exactly what I say, and I would listen to the sound of his voice for the rest of my life. However, easier, it’s not in this setting. Flyndt came to train just like you. Better to free him to do so. If you wish to talk between bouts we can. What are your plans for today? Have you set yourself rules?

“…listen to the sound of his voice for the rest of my life– hoo! Chikk'dikk! Foxen!”

The Omwati coughed into his gloves fist, the faintest hint of peach to his olive cheeks. With his throat cleared, he finished translating and nodded in agreement that he himself may not be available. “When free, I will not mind of course.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@315438760428961793>

The massive, basalt monster of a Nautolan-Chagrian hybrid made a whispery, rasping clicking-coughing noise that the Omwati would recognize as his partner’s chuckle. Unpleasant though it was, it was a sound Bril had heard scarely before too. Clearly he’d been waiting for such a reaction, by the pleased hmm that followed.

Bril had been listening to the conversation, of course, but he didn’t feel the need to say anything just yet. Morra was fully capable of speaking for herself, of course, and he was curious to know what she wanted to do. They had discussed the point of their outing today, of course, but Bril had made it clear that she was free to do whatever she felt most comfortable doing. Whether she wanted to observe or try her hand at learning something new, he would respect her choice. As she mulled over her response, Bril was busy waggling his eyebrows at Foxen and Flyndt upon seeing their reactions to the former’s words.

Morra folded her arms. “I think I’ll observe for now,” she stated, “Maybe I’ll take part later, but I’d like to see how this all works first.”

<@244244163002892288> <@244244400488710155>

After setting her cloak down, and mentally communicating with Zuska, assuring him that she wouldn’t be in any danger and that everyone here was ok. Tahiri also made him promise to either stay put, or go to Erin’s side if he needed to. Or if he wanted, the ship was open and he could go take a nap.

The petite Togruta stretched for a moment, and then strode onto the Simulation Grid. Looking around at everyone with a smile, before nodding to and bowing slightly to Erinyes, “Erinyes, I’d like to start by saying thank you for this opportunity. And I’d like to volunteer to be the first duel if anyone is up for it.”

<@645466919415054357>

Seeing his godmother step onto the Simulation Grid, Bril took that as his opportunity to make what they’d discuss a reality. He turned to give Morra a smile and a thumbs up. “Tahiri was my original teacher. Realized I was Force sensitive when I was young and taught me how to control my abilities,” he explained, “She’s the reason why I joined the Brotherhood at all.”

With that, he stepped up onto the platform and stood across from the togruta Sith.

Foxen watched Bril go with an assessing and critical once over at the Togruta he professed to be his teacher. At least her horrible awful fraking dog was well away. Then he was tracking Erinyes’ approach, gaze fixing briefly to the remote droid and calculating six different angles and weapons with which to neutralize it from where he crouched that would not so much as disturb Flyndt or the Morra.

Just in case.

But seeing as they had a moment.

M-O-R-R-A, we need to talk for a moment. Please excuse us. Won’t move far. I promise you you will be safe with either of us as with Bril.

<@1056685516441006091> <@244244400488710155>

Bril skirted off to join front and center the Togruta who must be the Tahiri the man has spoked about to Morra. Flyndt watched as his friend did, until his eye caught not the approaching Zeltron but Foxen’s head shifting to track her. He started to move towards his possessions, intent to grab his saber before he recalled the lack of adjustable features – something he should try to engineer better, maybe see if the center had blueprints of their own here. Yet the pause kept hmm there long enough to quickly lend his voice…

Right, a talk.

“Was good meeting you, Morra. Will speak more soon,” Flyndt added in.

Morra

Morra quickly nodded to Foxen before turning to offer Flyndt a polite smile. “You too,” she said before turning to watch Bril and Tahiri.

As Foxen rose back to his towering height for the first time directly near Morra, he was mindful to move slow. As he’d said, they didn’t go far, only about a half meter back towards the wall where Flyndt had been adjusting his gear and his Whi.

Following suit, Flyndt paused next to him and took a deep breath. There was a slight pause, him chewing gently on his lower lip as he does occasionally while thinking, and hands resting on his hips with thumbs tucked into his belt. His sunset eyes the met Foxen’s crimson.

“Sorry, the early talk with Erinyes…I was bothered and am…conflicted about it,” another pause with a small shrug, the brief diverted gaze returning with sincerity, “Are you sure O.K. with this? Still? There are limits on what can learn from practice forms and it would be helpful to do so with Din Soñ, but I can use their sabers and practice. Agreed on what O.K. with, yes?”

Foxen’s expression was soft to Flyndt. If anything the beskar tense set of him around a room full of ABJECT DANGER seemed to ease by a few pounds of pressure. He touched his chin in thanks, then brushed the Omwati’s clothed shoulder, free of tunic coat, with his knuckles before replying.

No need to apologize. Glad you’re telling me. Can you tell me what I did that bothered you? A pause then, answering, A lot of unexpected variables all at once. The dog. Whip. Planet killer. Setting to ignore. Don’t like we don’t know how that simulator, S-I-M-U-L-A-T-O-R, simulator, works. High danger, high risk. Heeding Erinyes’ advice that I not test it. Am sure about this still right now, yes. Might change. If it does we agreed. As for your whi, of course you can use her. Your choice, my heart.

“Oh,” Flyndt intoned, raising a hand to ruffle his shorter blue-grey plumage on the back of his head, “I misunderstood. I thought spoke of avoiding the simulator for both of us. I see now.”

Pausing with an exhale, he took a glance at the mentioned grid and the preparing combatants. The Omwati debated whether it was worth bringing up the rest, he felt more assured with just that simple clarity. But Foxen appreciated totalness and communication. “Felt options were limiting for a moment, after you shared about things that are bad for both you, me individually. Advice given in response to avoid practices, sparring.” He gestured at his folded vest coat and the larger of his sashes, “Clothes. I appreciate concern, sharing importance. I don’t think that is bad, response was… hoo.”

A small smile, attempting to assure while he noted their time to talk running out. “It is O.K. Understood. Glad still O.K. Will keep informed of choice.”

Aphotis inclined her masked head at Erinyes as she saw her wave, “A pleasure, General,” her modulated voice carried a cordial tone.

The tall woman noticed a delicate Togruta’s grey eyes following her movements for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she had seen her before. There was a sweetness about her aura, with a strange combination of light, grey and darkness. Tir'eivra made a mental picture of her. <@375384499770359819>

As Alaisy settled around the observation area she couldn’t help but notice a particularly friendly interaction between Mr. Sanctimonious and the Togruta from before. A young girl accompanied him. An Omwati and a Nautolan stood not far from them.

How incredibly vulnerable. Look at them. It is almost like begging monsters to emerge from Hyperspace and be pulled into oblivion.

Her tail went from being straight up to twitching, before turning into a slow swish.

It had been far too long since Bril and Tahiri sparred one another. How could he pass up the opportunity to see how much his Plagueian elder had progressed? And to show the fruits of his own labor since joining the Brotherhood? The mere thought of it sent jolts of excitement rippling through his core.

After putting his helmet on, Bril unclipped his long-handled saber, Aminta, from his belt and ignited it; the Krayt Dragon Pearl embedded within its hilt produced a white blade with a roaring howl. A single breath was all it took to tap into the vast wellspring of the Living Force, which he used to bolster his physical prowess. Instead of falling into a stance prior to attacking, the Arconan zabrak just stepped forward … and with that step, fell forward into a running lunge that propelled him across the paltry distance between him and his beloved godmother with speed that bordered on the preternatural. To those onlookers who lacked the visual acuity to track his sudden movement, Bril resembled a thin streak of gold and black in that instant.

The blitzing pace he established was meant to catch Tahiri unawares so that he could seemingly reappear at one of her unguarded flanks with his saber poised to strike. A single falling diagonal cut meant to leave its mark on the togrutan’s back concluded his opening attack.

<@375384499770359819>

Foxen gave a thoughtful hrm to show he was considering his response, his hand having migrated back unconsciously to Flyndt’s sashes, shoulder, arm…any bit of idle contact.

I can see how it sounded like I meant us both, as I was previously speaking for us both in ways agreed. I’m sorry. Is O.K. felt limited. Glad talking about it easy. Better. He showed a soft smile. If you use simulator, your choice, but I admit I’m worried. Dislike the idea it creates pain. Heavily. You already know that though. Is O.K. to do anyway. Thank you keep informed. I love you.

Aware of Erinyes’ warning about the whip-wielder not too far off being one to manipulate, he didn’t ask for further affection or affirmation. He did, though, glance at Erinyes now about upon them.

Want to see what she’s got? I will stay with M-O-R-R-A.

The shape of an extended thumb, fore and little fingers mirrored the Nautolan’s own gesture. I love you too. A smile reciprocating with a flash of yellow fleck lilac orbs before that gaze follow the slight tilt of Foxen’s chin. Flyndt nodded, “I should. Thank you for talk.”

The omwati gestured with an open palm falling from his chin, his other hand giving his partner a light squeeze of the arm. With a final look, he turned and headed over to where Erinyes had paused to wait for their conversation to meet, his hand raised in greeting.

“Erinyes.” Flyndt nodded, his gaze flitting to watch the spherical droid hovering behind her. “Ready to train. What…” crimson feathers twitched as again the droid was regarded, curiosity apparent on his face, “is this droid and for?”

<@645466919415054357>

As his partner headed off, Foxen returned to Morra’s side, placing himself 0.75 m to her right at an angle to be visually blocking her from the whip-wielder should she look over away from the current match. It was very easy with his comparative bulk. Satisfied, he pulled his pad out and typed before passing it over, using a notepad screen and setting the text larger so that it would be easier to read at a glance while she observed her teacher’s match.

Here if you would like to talk. No obligation.

<@1056685516441006091> <@315438760428961793>

Flyndt gave the remote, which looked less like his understanding of a remote but noted, a final glance. Grabbing a training saberpike of his own, he fell in line with Erinyes as indicated. His stance was fairly casual, feet shifting to a shoulder-width apart. A single emerald plasma leapt to life from the pike’s hilt and he leveled it in mimicry to the Zeltron’s positioning.

“Okay,” the Omwati nodded.

Indeed the Nautolan hybrid watched unblinking, recording every step in his memory files, fine muscles twitching in mimicry. Flyndt had done motions like these many times. Foxen had copied them, when they trained together, ghost-practicing a Ghost. It and running through phantom bouts with various blades was how they’d first trained together, before sparring was possible, thanks so much, TRAUMA.

But they’d gotten past that. Sometimes still echoes, but past it. Worked together. Trained, exercised, sparred, fought side by side, come up with combination maneuvers and incorporated tactics.

This was no different.

Though his gaze was fixed on the pair, memorizing, replaying, practicing in his mental landscape, his left hand remained idle by the pad, a silent invitation if asked after.

Morra’s eyes drifted over to the datapad and she reached out for it. When Foxen handed it over, she quickly read the message he’d typed before passing it back.

“If you’re close with Bril, are you and Flyndt members of the clan like he is?” she asked.

That elicited a sharp, hard snort from the Nautolan. He typed without looking away, so familiar with doing so, only still stumbling sometimes from modified keystrokes as his muscle memory adapted to the loss of little finger from near a year ago now.

Deny. We are NOT Arconan. I am of Clan Erinos, Mandalorians, which essentially contracts with and serves fealty to the jediit Clan, meaning our lives and oaths unless otherwise sworn are sworn to them. We are called to battle with them, fight their wars, die for them as cannon fodder like any other expendable non-magic-using meat shield, etc. Flyndt has 0 relation/obligation to them. He has his own Mission, and my Mission is to see his completed and Make Him as Happy as Possible for as Long as I Can. If he wants to share it with you he can, or about our meeting. We are courting. Believe the appropriate emoticon is: 🥹

We know Bril as a friend and ally. He is dating my baby sister. I assume you’ve met Minnie. He’s intractable, arrogant, conceited, idealistic, and 60% of the time his fashion sense and everything he says deserve to be taken out back and shot. However: he has also been supportive, he loves Minnie, and she loves him. He is also intelligent enough to learn from his horrible mistakes and occasionally pull his head out of his ass. He asked me for advice with you. I could give him a whole book, but I said I’d get back to him until we could meet properly. Just haven’t been well enough. Things happened, trauma responses from here to Coruscant, complete and total mental emotional and physical breakdown on repeat for the last month, etc. Trauma’s a bitch. We fight to heal though. Lots of information. Sorry. Still not all settled in my head, so answers excessively chatty. Normally much more efficient in conveying information.

The Omwati watched her run through the initial demonstration of the exercise. It was quite familiar, bringing him not only back to staff practice with the Order but when he was a youth in just downs first learning with sticks with his clan. Flyndt took a brief moment just to familiarize his palm to the training weapons hilt, particularly the edge near the blade.

He nodded to indicate he was ready and followed along with each count. His movements were relaxed and reserved, hands sliding down with each extension until the space between them was a third of the quarterstaff length hilt – not overextended but not weak. Ideal.

The softly humming - not like his own - green blade flitted through the space up high, an invisible assailant’s shoulder level, then the butt of his staff arched in succession and opposite. The pike was not the double bladed of Erinyes, but still worthwhile to train the blunted end similarly whether as a strike against a foe or to block other types of melee weaponry. While shifting to block or strike with the pike’s end, his hand would slide to a stop at the edge of the hilt, avoiding loosing his grasp on the blade itself.

The two moved in fair unison. The differences in their movements coming from their individual backgrounds and studies, comfortability and practice with the weapons. For example, Erinyes’ stances were wide while Flyndt’s were shorter and not just because of their height difference but proportionally. Whether or not that was something to correct was up to his trainer. Regardless it was as Erinyes figured, the Omwati was fairly practiced with these basic low aggressive drills.

“I have worked with polearms since a sen, erm, fledgling, child,” Flyndt shared in response to her observation. He listened intently, a small look of surprise and dawning realization flashed briefly across his face. He glanced down at his weapon for a second, shifting it in his hands. It made sense that the hafts were weaker now that it was brought to his attention, just had not considered it previously.

His gaze returned to her and watched the sped up, smooth pattern. A nod and he fell back into his stance. With a short miming of the movements, emerald plasma and dark grey metal arced through the air in loose alternating circles. He did several reps before looking to Erinyes again, the saberpike coming to rest propped against the floor.

“Like so?”

Foxen kept watching while Morra read, quietly proud of his partner and no small amount admiring, his tunic coat folded perfectly and precisely in his lap with his other things and Din Soñ proPped upright against his shoulder in a respectful manner so she could also observe her sen’s greatness.

The circular motions were almost hypnotic. He could see the pattern easily, though distracted by the grace and flutter of the Omwati’s plumage as he tested the forms. It was almost enough to distract from the fact that he was probably going to get mildly shot at a lot by that remote in a few moments.

Set status: allow.

Set status: ignore all urges otherwise it’s fine.

Morra paid careful attention to what Foxen wrote. The emphasis he placed and neither he nor Flyndt being Arconan suggested that he considered that a bad thing in some way. She considered asking, but decided it probably wasn’t the politest thing to do since they just met. The use of the emoticon made her laugh a little. It was strange seeing such an intimidating-looking person use it, but it conveyed how he felt well. She was still forming her own opinions about Bril, so she didn’t say anything about that. He seemed nice enough, and if Ruka and her mother trusted him to take on her training full time, that said a lot about his character.

“You don’t need to say sorry about typing a lot,” she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders with a smile, “I can tell you mean well. And it’s helpful. I have a lot to learn, so I appreciate it. And I hope you get better soon.”

She shifted her attention to Bril and Tahiri when their duel began, widening her eyes upon seeing how quickly the zabrak moved only for the togruta to actually block his saber strike.

“Wow,” she commented.

Ashen let the scenes play out in front of him. There was no shortage of skill in the room below, and the wide variety of both weapons and styles warmed him somewhat. Pivoting, he leaned with his back against the frame, eyes gliding over the pairs as they worked. It had been a long time, but since what? The Lion lost himself in memory as the blades hummed. The clash of spear and blade brought him back to the Falleen, their delving returning with the damaged codex that they worked tirelessly for months.

Ataru, Soresu, Makashi, the refinements of the old Jedi arts that had been lost over iteration via generations of peace. Sabers were treated as a sport in those times. Trakata, Sokan, Dun Moch, more exotic, niche. They lingered in th emargins of wider works, but had grown into more than the mere curiosities as they studied the ancient holocron. Windu’s Juyo variant, the Vapaad, had to come from other sources, recreating the Master’s craft from a combination of Juyo sources and works that the man had done himself. Lus ma. Muz blinked slowly as he considered. No, even now, it was too much.

It seemed like only yesterday that the Stennes and his obnoxious smelling cigarras had performed the original rite as Cotelin looked on. He hadnt spent much time in the Morph Hall after that. And then when Dalthid had vanished years later, the disrepair to the facility had rendered it inoperable. He hadn’t bothered since. Not out of some strange sense of haughtiness or what he knew now, no. Was it that he had little to prove any more? Or could it be that the surprise was gone?

The brilliant yellow of blades intersecting illuminated for half moments as they bounded around, testing each other’s might. Patterns in the tapestry, the loom invisible to most yet ever present. He could smell the adrenaline, taste the excitement. It was once intoxicating to him, and he wondered how many of them felt the same. The simple fire in the heart, life and death condensed into perfect movements, problems infinitely complex that took all of your attention and presense to address.

Feelings intense and yet pure. They had let him live, truly live, in the space between the blades. It was addictive, drawing him into ever more desperate ploys as though he was trying to end his own story.

And maybe he was.

The Togruta nodded to Erinyes as she left the grid, then smiled as she gave Bril a small bow. She could feel the excitement pulsating from the young Zabrak all the way across to where she stood on the platform, making her own excitement elevate slightly. Even with the static charge of exhilaration coursing through her body for this match, as she dipped into the river that was the Force flowing around her. The instant touch of it helped calm her minds storm enough to prepare, and watch what he did.

Tahiri had to give it to the young Zabrak, she hadn’t expected him to come at her as fast, nor as ferociously as he did. The Elder had fought in all sorts of terrain and against creatures, and even other people who tried and managed to get the drop on her, whom were as fast as he was… or even faster. Tahiri herself could be fast when she needed to be… right now though she just needed to block where his blow was coming from.

The petite Togruta felt the wind rush past her, echolocation and nerves tingling. The Elder’s body reacted the same time as her mind and the Force shouted, He’s trying to get behind you! Her sabers flew from their quick releases to her palms, her Rune in a reverse grip and the shoto in a normal grip. Twisting her body on the ball of her left foot towards the same side she had felt him pass her, lowering her body a bit as her knees bent. Tahiri ignited both blades simultaneously as she brought them up to parry his downward diagonal cut, howling blade and a sharp ringing blade caught his blade at two points, upper and lower end.

Looking right at him, a smirk crossed her face, “Well done. My turn now.” Before pushing his howling blade back a little and then preceded to spin and do a couple of flips around him, flourishing both of her blades before striking out at him in irregular intervals in her flips and spins. Testing his defenses.

<@645466919415054357>

It came as no surprise that Tahiri successfully blocked his opening strike. When her lightsabers rose in opposition to his own, he gripped Aminta’s elongated hilt with both hands to use his superior strength against her, but she managed to resist him long enough to create an opening for her to slip away. A dizzying display of agility followed and briefly transported the Arconan blade master back to his childhood when he first witnessed Tahiri use what he now recognized as Ataru.

He kept his dominant hand close to his saber’s emitter while his offhand remained on the pommel, which allowed him to more effectively guide the weapon’s blade at different ranges while he blocked the first flurry of strikes that his godmother threw at him. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to defend against her multi-angled attacks forever, he decided to create distance between them using a timely Force push. If successful, it would give him the space needed to use more of his saber’s length, allowing its momentum to pull his hands farther down its length in a sweeping horizontal cut aimed at her midsection.

Foxen took longer to reply now, getting more invested in Flyndt and Erinyes’ going on while also splitting his attention to watch for threats and check occasionally on what Bril and the Togruta did.

Thanks. Trying to get better. Same as you, I’m guessing. Lot to learn like them, sabers? Or of living, personhood, etc? Or?

“Will keep practicing,” Flyndt affirmed with determination and knowing full well Foxen would assist with the drills if asked. Now any other inference on stamina practice was lost on him at the moment. He paused for a moment to consider before giving Erinyes a firm nod.

“Yes, I am ready to try.”

Flyndt moved into position, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly before settling into his readied stance. He inhaled and brought the saberpike’s haft into both hands, drawing it at a slight diagonal and exhaling. The Omwati’s mind quieted to focus, replaying his teacher’s movements and guidance in his head for a moment. He thumbed the activator switch, green light springing to life. Meeting the Zeltron’s gaze, he nodded.

Erinyes pressed the button. Again the remote flashed and beeped three times – like a count down he realized – before a bolt of crimson shot his way. He jerked the pike into that circular motion she had demonstrated, more overcompensating for it instead of sliding immediately into the familiar feel of the motions. The saber blade caught the bolt in time and deflected it. His gaze followed the crimson swiftly, a quick flash of relief that it went harmlessly to the ceiling.

The four other shots went smoothly. Flyndt eased into the movement, rolling his body with the quick snapping small circles, easy enough with a three second span that gave him a second to focus but not enough to settle off his toes or think too hard on it all. That final long beep signaled the end of the session.

Flyndt straightened up after a moment and deactivated the saberpike. This definitely made him realize how much he avoided blaster bolts as opposed to deflecting them usually. He looked at Erinyes. “That…felt okay. I think am good for more, yes?”

Foxen observed every single one of the onetwothreefourfive, 5 scarlet shots that fired towards his Home at random at 3 second intervals, vibrating on a molecular level. His control was extreme and precise, every microfilament of muscle catalyzing calcium in flex of lock/movement that would propel him forward instead holding him back, in place, sedate beside Morra.

Flyndt was amazing. He took the challenge of each shot and batted them away, planted and spinning his pole arm in short, sharp flicks instead of ghosting about them himself. It was beautiful, in a different way than it normally was, deadly in an unearthly manner, and breathtakingly brave.

He wanted to be able to just enjoy that. And if he’d been younger and stupider, he’d likely have been frustrated with the fact that he couldn’t. But that was useless and counterproductive. He had trauma. He couldn’t just enjoy it, not after everything recently, not right now, not today, maybe never. But he could be OK with it happening, could enjoy it and hate it.

A sigh left the Nautolan hybrid in a whisper. He mouthed his own praise of the Omwati’s skill as they prepared for a second, harder round, waiting, tense, trusting in his bird and his choice to try and be hurt in that trying in order to grow.

Morra nodded. She was trying to get better and had in many ways. But some days felt like she was taking two steps backward.

“Sabers, the Force, things like that,” she replied, “My mother and Ruka trusts him to teach me those things, and I’m starting to see why.”

Foxen wouldn’t – could, but wouldn’t – tear his adoring, tired gaze from the Omwati, carmine eyes focused home. Thankfully blind typing was easy.

Is that all you want to learn?

Flyndt nodded in agreement and repositioned. He paused briefly before holding out a thumbs up too, mirroring hers. Hands then wrapped back around his saberpike, his focus on the remote hoovering between them.

…beep-beep-beep!

The first shot was almost immediately. He flicked it up and away with a nap of his blade. Swifter than the previous three seconds, the next bolt came at half that timing and was deflected just the same. Two faint scorches joining several upon the ceiling.

A breath’s width of a lull lingered before another crimson bolt flew towards him, followed near immediately by a fourth. The Omwati’s tight circle ricocheted the first up above, his heartbeat catching in his throat as he reversed the circle, catching the trailing bolt and slinging it into the ground half a meter from where he stood. Flyndt didn’t have time to think about how his control had nearly slipped there and the possibility of one of these training projectiles to shoot at those gathered in the room or Bril and Morra or Foxen. The final shot careened as fast as he could blink and his tight roll of his pike redirected it too.

beeeeep

A huff escaped him as he broke from his stance, skin still buzzing lightly. He deactivated his saberpike again and looked to Erinyes. A faint frown tugged his lips, crimson feathers twitching.

“I…I didn’t feel so in control on third one,” Flyndt admitted.

A clangclangclang echoed from where Foxen sat, the Mandalorian drumming his bracer on the floor in applause/support, showing I see you. It wasn’t horribly loud; he wasn’t banging the thing like some overgrown toddler or drunken and raucous ingrate. But it was loud enough.

“Brrt?” Sunset eyes glanced over to Foxen and Flyndt gave him a small brief smile.

Red met goldvioletorange, lifting chin in a distinctly birdlike fashion, a proud jutting tilt, and scarred lips smiled back. A gesture accompanied it, touching two fingers to temple, near the eye, then to the chest, before pointing to Flyndt. Signs of another language followed.

You’re amazing. Keep going.

Morra shook her head. “I want to learn other things, too,” she ran her hands along her pants while they spoke and gave them a gentle squeeze to steady herself. “It’s kind of a ‘you don’t know what you don’t know’ kind of thing. There’s plenty I have to learn, and will, from my mom and from Ruka and Bril,” then, she shrugged her shoulders while smiling at Foxen, “maybe even from you.”

Foxen actually turned his head at the neck to give Morra a – moderated, like he was fraking Jax – smile back. He nodded to her, then looked back to Flyndt.

🦈: confirm. A lot to learn, and way fraking more to discover you need to learn. Personhood is walking through a minefield blindfolded. You can’t know until you hit it. Important part: give yourself grace when you do. Remind: you had no way to deal with this, no equipment, no knowledge. Not your fault. Not your failure. 🦈: lots of times you’re going to fail. That just is. Accept it. Own it. Take care of yourself. You have to build the thing in this body. Some fraker who thought they could own me but can’t because I own me tried to take that away, did for a long time. But they don’t get to. I am this me. And I create myself. You will too. 🦈: This has been your unsolicited opinion for the day. Won’t give again without ask and consent first.

Bolstered with encouragement, Flyndt considered Erinyes’ explanation, how it made sense as much as echoed much of the instructions he’s received in the past. Practice. Overwrite your mind, bypass your thoughts. He had managed previous trainings, he’s managing this so far. There was no delay as he fell back and ready, deflecting the first shot that ‘pewed’ his way.

The five randomized shots deflected off the humming green saberpike harmlessly away from himself and other bystanders. His movements were smoother than the last repetition and he even caught himself performing a ndanmē, a ‘retreat back’ move. The shuffle step back with his forward left foot leading, pushing himself backwards a stride as he deflected a bolt down where he had previously stood. Another long beep signified the end of the rep. He relaxed his stance and looked to Erinyes for any commentary or farther actions.

[Foxen tensed harder, defying physics, and kept watching super gayly while his One True Beau did cool ass shit.]

“I will not let leave my sight–”

His words broke off as his mottled tongue stilled, his gaze dancing to follow the orb as it flit back and forth - his eyes wide open to track with only the pale nictitating membranes to protect them. Flyndt pivoted, clothes rustling, to keep the remote in site when it arced high above him and fired the first shot. His emerald blade hummed as it was swung forth, catching the bolt and swatting it to the metal floor. He returned the saberpike back in front of him at an angle, moving short, casual steps to in response to the droid.

More flitting, simple redirects. Plasma ricocheting off plasma harmlessly. So in tune he was with the little dance they played, forced to more act in the moment in response to the more randomize approaches and timings, it took a moment for Flyndt to realize the practice round was over. There was a twitch of his lips, a semblance of a content smile as he took a second to breath – not that he was far spent, that would require more drilling, but a sweat surely was building.

“I think that was good? Not sure when foe will jump over head, but useful, yes?” he said, completely forgetting his own acrobative tendecies at times. Or, you know, how short he was.

The Elder was impressed by how well the young Zabrak was able deflect and block her swift jabs and strikes. The fact that he was also able to keep up with her speed, was a testament to the discipline of both his studying and intense training. Tahiri knew he was strong, in the Force as well as his prowess, it was something she had felt from the moment she had saved this young Zabrak boy. She kept pushing, seeing what he would do next.

When he threw his arms out towards her, Tahiri felt the Force push against her. Instead of fully resisting and possibly going down, she used the momentum of the Force push, flipping and spinning a few meters away, landing in a readied crouched position. Smiling, she crouched even further as his blade swept over her head, Montrals almost vibrating with how close his saber pike came to the tips.

The succession of sweeping, arcing blows that came at her kept her on the defense. Her blades deflecting and at times redirecting his at key times. The strength behind each strike keeping her back, she was reminded just how much Bril had come in his training. Especially from when he was briefly in Plagueis.

“Ah, right.” Those things did exist. He forgot about the jetpacks.

Flyndt nodded in expressing he both understood the basics and the fact he needed to keep practicing it. He paused at her offer, resting the saberpike on the butt of it’s haft while he patted down his belt, searching for his datapad, which wasn’t on him,..of course. A quick think recalled he hadn’t brought his with him. “I would like that. Yet need give to Foxen, as he has the datapad. Can I?”

The Omwati stepped closer to Erinyes’ side, stopping short of brushing against her as he gestured with a glaoved hand to the device in hers. “See how controls look, work?”

The show didn’t disappoint. Jade watched entranced at the Force users weapon of choice being used by those who knew how to use them. There was something very elegant about it; much more than so than crude metal weapons or blasters. Finally, he broke away from the spectacle and looked over at the other man who had been sitting and watching in silence. He couldn’t help but wonder at this other observer who’d chosen not to participate.

Jade stood and casually approached the man, stopping far enough to not enter his personal space.

“It appears it’s just us who arrived just to observe, for whatever reasons. May I?” He asked as he gestured to a spot next to the other man.

Morra gave a pensive look upon reading what Foxen wrote.

“I create myself …” she repeated to herself under her breath, like a mantra.

Then, she nodded with motes of fires in her eyes lit by the chagrian-nautolan hybrid’s encouraging words. “No, no it’s okay. Thank you. That really helps.”

She spent the next several minutes with her attention split between Bril and Tahiri’s spar on the one hand, and Flyndt’s training on the other. Seeing how determined everyone was to improve was inspiring all on its own.

Flyndt took the datapad and started pouring over the settings with eagerness. His crimson feathers that were not tied back, flared with the coocoobrrrt noise Foxen had noticed fondly. The temptation to start messing around with the options, testing their potential and capabilities was high. His finger hovered over the power slider for several heartbeats, itching to shift it to max capacity before he pulled himself away.

Right, transferring.

The Omwati pivoted and gestured the device towards his partner, his hands crudely signing around it – better to be seen than heard with the sparring close by. ‘Connect?’ Following confirmation, he clicked the transfer option before handing, waited to see if it was successful, then returned it to Erinyes.

“Thank you, again. Will explore and practice with,” Flyndt dipped his head in gratitude.

Foxen was happy to take the offered device and begin transferring the files, suspecting future joyous destruction and the purchase of– no, Flyndt would not like that as much– the finding of a remote droid in a junkyard or scrap stall. As it finished up he waited while Flyndt thanked Erinyes, signing his own, Thank you, to her.

If you need anything, let us know, he added, demonstrating further gratitude.

<@645466919415054357>

A glance at Morra to check on her found her still engaged, though looking more eager than before. She seemed concentrated, excited, determined. Good.

He flashed her what would be a more universal sign in a thumbs up.

<@1056685516441006091>

“Well done, Ameeno'nop. You’ve come far in your training. Now let’s see just how far,” as she parried a few more of his swift and flowing attacks. As he advanced, she defended but gave ground, waiting for just the right opportunity to make her move.

Seeing as he was focused on her, even as she blocked and parried his blows, the Elder began to weave the Force to her needs. To the right and left of the dueling pair, there appeared two other Togruta’s similar to Tahiri in stature, but with different skin markings, both with familiar sabers drawn. The two advanced on the Zabrak, simultaneously attacking at different angles, the two pairs of sulfuric eyes almost glowing.

The distraction was enough for Tahiri to begin her own flurry of attacks. Shifting easily from one form to other, yet maintaining a balance between the agile redirection of his blade, and the unpredictable twirling of her own strikes. She wanted to see if he could be unbalanced.

<@1056685516441006091>

An eyebrow went up slightly as he was dragged out of thought. Or memory, rather. A broad gesture with an open palm bid the man welcome. There was enough room at the pane for several, and the variety of styles and weapons flashing about below was worth the watch.

Back and forth they moved below, testing each other as much as they tested themselves. Emboldened by the circuitry and sorcery of this hall, their mistakes would not be as painful as they would be in the rest of the galaxy. For a moment, he warbled between thinking it was a brilliant way to save their lives for something more meaningful and deriding this as pointless, the crucible of actual battle forging better warriors.

Muz chuckled.

Was this how it was to be now? That he would forever more frame the present through the lens of the older ways? He had supposed that there were some things that all the dust on Antei wouldn’t remedy. He had made peace with that a long while ago. Just not with the rest.

Having been watching the various duels from the sidelines, Aiden was impressed by what he’s seen. Those dedicated to the study of the Force and their Lightsabers garnered respect from the Master.

Looking to Erinyes, Aiden grinned behind his helmet. He was looking forward to this.

“I would be happy to. Let’s show these others a good fight.”

He walked out onto the training pad with his hilts in hand.

<@645466919415054357>

Morra nodded quietly and took a step closer to where Erinyes and the other man relocated, but made sure to keep within just a few feet of Foxen while Bril continued his own sparring session.

Aiden rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, spinning the hilts in his grasp.

“Let’s keep our Force fueled abilities to a minimum. Our skill with a lightsaber will be the determination in this contest.”

With the press of two switches, his black and white blades emerged from their respective sabers.

Flyndt gave but a nod as indication he heard Erinyes. How well was up for debate as he has stuck his nose fast in Foxen’s datapad with no sign of coming back up for air. He fiddled intently, his mottled tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth while he adjusted scrolling settings. The remote simply hoovered a meter away on standby until triggered into action.

“Hoo,” Flyndt murmured, setting the datapad on his lap as a contemplative look crossed his face. A moment later he turned to Foxen. “Wish I could see, er, test its capabilities. But need a target…maybe, hrmm, another time.”

He quickly fixed a couple setting, then stood and presented the pad back to the Nautolan-hybrid. “Will you, help with training? Challenge me, Foxen.”

<@244244163002892288>

As soon as Flyndt looked to Foxen he was met with what was now normal: being stared at unblinkingly and with absolute intensity…and utter adoration. Foxen’s lips curled up as his bird seemed contemplating, and he cocked a pierced brow at, “‘test its capabilities…need a target.’”

For the moment, Foxen took the pad back, still smiling at the Omwati. It widened to sharp shark edged even as his gaze stayed hopelessly soft.

Challenge? “Hmm?” he asked. Fire the remote at you? Or?

Aiden fell silent and still. The only sounds around him were the humming of lightsabers and the clashes of the other fights. He stilled his breath centering himself, allowing the natural warmth of the Force to fill him, mind and body. His eye sight focused. Containing himself, he waited, wondering for the moment if Erinyes would make the first move. He would take any opening she gave him, and give her the fight they both longed for.

“Yes, fire at me,” Flyndt affirmed with a clack of his beak. His inked lips were pensive as he regarded Foxen for a moment, easing at the sight of the man’s grin to the point he snorted? Feathers rose with an amused shake of his head, pleased there was no weariness from the other. He stooped down to pick up the saberpike.

“Controls seem simple. I set back to how Erinyes had, yes. Varied times and free movement. You think try more shots? More than five?” he inquired while starting to move back to the open space he had been practicing in previously, the remote tagging along.

“Hmm,” Foxen hummed, evidently pleased as well at Flyndt’s amusement. At their mutual effort of be O.K. enough for this with the knowledge that the moment they weren’t, that they were done and it was O.K. then. The trust. The determination.

Fire at me.

The Omwati would hand that to him, like so much else of his life, his life itself.

Confirm. More shots…and I can think of some patterns.

So said, he checked with Morra and then when his Person He Was Courting indicated he was ready with a signal hoot, the Nautolan hybrid tapped at his datapad with the new software.

The remote, placid and compliant as it has followed Flyndt, suddenly zipped up further into the air. It took a stationary position and spun rapidly, firing volleys of two at a time much like a ceiling turret.

<@244244400488710155> <@1056685516441006091>

Flyndt’s surprise at double the bolts flying towards him came with a flash of feathers and a rush to deflect both. The minor flourish eased out by the third bout, the twin projectiles swept in the practiced simple circle with the finesse of a chin-bretier. The saberpike’s pole hummed both with the plasma blade but also the metal shaft vibrating with the snapping quick movements.

Several volleys later, the remote gave a long beep and ceased its rapid spinning to a rest state, waiting in standby. Flyndt deactivated his pike with a light pant. His gaze met Foxen’s, brow raised in a way that spoke his approval of the ‘challenge’. His hands flashed afterwards. ‘What next you bring?’

The two duelists; Sith and Vyshtal'rak (the Zabraki word roughly translating to ‘Gray Jedi’), Plagueian and Arconan, godmother and godson, clashed blades with all the ferocious grace of two masters of lightsaber combat. To any observers, it was clear that Tahiri’s skill with the saber was a class above his own, but Bril narrowed that divide using an array of grappling techniques that he worked into his saber forms seamlessly. After a few more minutes of exchanges with no clear victor, the two combatants leaped away from one another while the crackling sound of their last saber clash lingered in the air.

Bril was the first to break the mask of icy determination, adopting a smile while assuming a more relaxed posture.

“Amazing, ye'meht,” he said, “I knew you were extremely skilled, but now I can appreciate just how much.”

Foxen’s gaze pined back, clear admiration on his – to others – stoney features, the pull of his smile and press of his teeth into his lip with a nod indicating he was impressed. His hands fanned back, deceptively light.

Think you can do the real thing? he asked, and gestured to Din Soñ in indication.

The petite Togruta smiled in return and relaxed her own stance, flourishing her sabers with twirl one last time before extinguishing and clipping them back onto her belt.

“Aye, very well done ye tungu'ko,” respectfully bowing to her godson. “You yourself have indeed become a skilled warrior. I am glad to know that you’re able to hold your own against anyone.” She allowed a small chuckle, before smirking and crossing her arms, right hip thrusted out to the side, “Good to know at least not all Zabraki men are as hard-headed as most, and actually learn a new thing or two.”

He lifted a hand to rub the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

“Results may vary,” he said with a chuckle, “I can’t say I haven’t learned a lesson or four the hard way. But I try to be more open these days.”

Her smile broadened, shaking her a little as she closed the distance between them.

“You are far more open than some men I’ve met,” her facial feature were soft as she subtly opened her arms for a hug if he wished it. “Not all lessons are easy, and life isn’t exactly an easy path to traverse. You’ve done well… I’m very proud of you.”

Inked lips pursed in thought. Flyndt nodded and signaled an ‘O.K.’ back. He walked over and leaned the training pike against the wall between two of the viewing windows. Stooping beside his near pile of clothes, his tunic sticking to his back in a small patch of sweat, he grabbed his own weapon. It near-hummed in his grasp as the cobbled together shaft came to rest in his hand.

Flyndt sighed, then passed his thumb over the woven wire hand grip for a moment before retaking his position in the training area. He breathed in, closing his eyes, and breathed out, compressing the activator. An orange blade ignited, throwing it’s warm glow across his olive skin.

“Right, O.K. Am ready when you are.”

Foxen stared at him a moment longer, lit by the citrine haze of an unfulfilled promise echoing even after death.

You are magnificent, he told his partner, and, and you can be with her too. Am ready. O.K.

So said, he turned back to the datapad and programmed another sequence.

This time, the remote zipped about, firing in salvos like a typical pistol might, simulating multiple angles of attack from various goon enemies.

“You can say that again,” concurred Bril with a gentle sigh. His time in the Brotherhood had been very difficult, at times so difficult that he doubted his ability to continue. But he had a wonderful group of friends and family around him that had helped him every step of the way. They all helped each other. Everyone had their own struggles, but the support of a tight-knit community often made even the pressing matters surmountable.

The faintest of reds formed on the young man’s tattooed countenance as his godmother and first teacher sang his praises.

“Thank you. Anything I’ve accomplished is thanks to you and several others.”

He opened his arm to pull Tahiri into a side hug so they could walk back to where Morra and the others were standing.

A stuttered exhale escaped the Omwati at the praise and assurance. Seconds later the remote moved and he rotated with it, plasma blade popping up to deflect the first bolt. The droid was swift, forcing him to pivot and keep light upon the balls of his feet, the loose fabric of his pants fluttering free from their temporary bindings. His saberpike hummed with each successful block, but his crisp and poised movements were wavering as his breathing shallowed and strain built in his limbs. Flyndt pushed through and muscled himself forward to meet the blaster bolts’ timings.

Two crimson shots trailing the other beelined towards him. His first deflection left Din Soñ overextended and near scraping the floor, so he quickly followed through his momentum and pinwheeled the butt of the shaft forward to catch the other – forgetting in that split second Erinyes’ warning. The weakened plasma struck the hilt, scorching the metal lightly and overheating the wires inside. A shock jolted up from his hand nearest to the blow, causing him to let go with a hiss between his beak, inked lips pulling back. It didn’t hurt much, more an irritated sting that lingered. The last shot striking him in the shoulder gave another static zap and felt like an insult to injury.

At the long beep singling the end of the sequence, Flyndt rolled his shoulder and turned his attention to his weapon. A testing of the activation switch resulted in the orange blade igniting with a persistant flicker, weaker. The Omwati frowned, noting he’ll have to tear it apart and perform some maintenance later. Flicking it off, he rejoined Foxen and flopped down beside, laying back with a light pant.

“Think this is good time for a break,” he uttered, adding an ‘O.K.’ in afterthought to signal he was fine. Pulling his arm from off his face, his sunset eyes glanced over to the Nautolan’s briefly, a twitch of a smile. “Thanks. For helping.”

To say that Foxen was close to achieving the molecular density of air from how hard he was vibrating as the bolts hit Flyndt by his direction and he let it happen was not far past hyperbole. The Omwati signalling him a belated but crucial O.K. finally unlocked the man, who leaned over his flopped partner once those eyes met his and cupped his cheek, trailing down stricken shoulder in self-soothing assurance. His gaze was intent as he checked his partner over, then looked back up and leaned further down to touch their foreheads.

“Thank you for trusting,” he whispered there, and, “beautifully done,” and, “still O.K.”

Then he pulled back enough to ‘flop’ too, if much more stiffly and on alert of the pair, a guard dog waiting as Bril and his master approached to collect Morra.

Hugging him back and falling into step with the tall Zabrak, she let herself be led off the platform.