The Hermit's Dojo - Mechis III

[Faux]

An energy field unto itself? Seperate, but somehow interwoven into the substance of everything.

 

As she listened dots connected in her head to everything she already knew. What if what she knew as her body's own vital energy was this Force? If that were the case, then maybe touching the greater Force wasn't much different from the techniques she used to feel through her own? Once they reached a smaller room, Aryian motioned for her to sit and she complied, smoothly lowering herself as her legs twisted, then folded atop one another.

 

Basic meditation was something she already understood, so as he guided her through the mental practice she quickly fell into familiar rhythms. With her eyes closed that sense quickly faded with nothing but opaque light from the other side of her eyelids to act as canvas for her mind's eye. Her body was held upright but her muscles were relaxed, letting her spine, squared shoulders and head maintain posture without tensing while her hands rested gently in her lap. Hearing without listening, all sound was one and faded into nothing. Aryian's voice, the mechanical hum of the Dojo, even her breathing and heartbeat coalesced and fell away as her focus became entirely the tree.

 

The first time she had ever seen a tree outside of a datapad was only a few days ago on Kashyyyk, but the experience was unforgettable, even during the frantic time in which it occured. Just knowing such a massive thing was alive left her awe struck. As beckoned the giant worshyr began to fleck away like it were in a sandstorm, slowly disintigrating away in the scope of her imagination. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours as time became immaterial. There was only the tree, and then there wasn't.

 

She was just barely aware of herself in what remained and, even more vaguely of Aryian somewhere in this great, never ending expanse of nothingness, but in it she felt a calm she had never quite reached before, only stepping to the precipice but to afraid to completely let go to fully make it. Did she require the idea of something greater in her mind before she could ever reach it, or did she need a guide who knew the way?

 

That calm lasted an eternity and a split second as, just a little deeper, that same eternal nothingness sprang into everything. It was not a gentle step, but a great, inconceivable leap for her awareness. The full measure of herself became eclipsed by the grandness of the world around her, the star the planet revolved around, the system, the countless systems, the galaxy, the inescapable void, into more galaxies, and more, and more, and more. She felt so small, so completely insignificant in the span of it all she felt like it was all going to collapse in on her at any minute, swallow her whole and not even notice.

 

And then it all fell away, her's for an eternity and it was gone. Faux's eyes sprang open and she took what felt like the first breath she had ever taken, deep and desperate, before losing her composure and falling backward. She blinked a few times, letting her vision catch up with her surroundings as she realized she hadn't yet exhaled and her lungs began to burn. Catching her breath, the memory of this place came back to her, who she was and why she was here. Turning to Aryian, remembering who he was, she asked with wide eyes and a bewildered look.

 

"I'm supposed to learn how to control that?"

[Ary the Grey]

The Grey Master chuckled. It had been some time indeed since he'd managed to tutor someone so naturally skilled.

 

"Well, think about it this way. You can control the air you breathe by inhaling and exhaling, right? But does that control the entire planet's atmosphere? It is less forcibly exerting your will on the currents and learning instead to flow with them, shaping them in ways that they are inclined to. With time, those muscles will grow stronger, and you will be able to influence far more. The Force is also somewhat sentient, at the least many practitioners believe it has its own will. You will learn to listen to that will and act on those instincts, as well as perform feats seemingly impossible to most other beings. We will start slow, but in time you will be allowed to choose what skills you desire to focus on."

 

Aryian reached out, summoning a small sack from the edge of the meditation chamber. It hovered between them, the drawstrings unwinding themselves and several smooth obsidian pebbles floated out of the top, taking up spinning orbits around him.

 

"Telekinesis is one of the most basic applications of the Force. You know how to touch the Force, how to make the connection. In time, that connection will become second nature. But now, you must learn basic manipulation. Close your eyes, repeat the process, reach out with your senses."

 

A single pebble floated down, plinking lightly on the stone floor in front of her.

 

"Feel for the stone, take in its shape, its essence. Reach out and try to lift it. If it helps, imagine small tendrils or filaments extending from you to it, forming a net and pushing upwards. Don't forget to breathe."

 

The Grey Master watched her closely, studying her progress. If she needed help, he would be here. It was an exercise he'd gotten wildly random results from over the years, some failed, some managed to fling it like a bullet, underestimating their influence. But in the end, it was a necessary building block to moving forward and developing a deeper understanding of the Force. For now, training wheels.

[Faux]

Aryian seemed to put the proper scope on what she had just experienced. He wasn't asking her to tame an ocean, but she had to see it in full glory to get the proper perspective going into it all. Knowing what was out there would, ideally, make the learning curve seem less daunting. However, that didn't take away from the fact that this was going to be a lifelong pursuit, and something she could never completely master. In that respects it was much like the training she was accustomed to back home, where even the oldest of the monks were constantly applying their knowledge to hone and create new techniques.

 

Nevertheless, it still took Faux a moment to collect herself. She focused on regulating her breathing, using the steady rhythm to bring the beat of her heart to a slow and steady pace. It was going to be like anything else; practice until it becomes part of your nature, and she was good at practice.

 

When Aryian said that the Force was somewhat sentient, Faux's thoughts couldn't escape from the concept of a deity, but at the same time she refused to believe it. When it was a big conglomeration of energy, stirring in a constant flux of cause and effect it all made some degree of sense to her. Some of the reaction could be unknown, something different than what is anticipated, or outright obfuscated, but there would always be reason to prevail. This much, at least, she would take with a grain of salt until given evidence to the contrary. If she simply dismissed this ambiguity it would make pressing forward more managable, so that's what she decided to do.

 

This time when an object floated she wasn't as surprised, but still in awe of it. Out of the bag came several black pebbles that also began floating in orbits around Aryian like electrons to an atom. How many things could he levitate at once, she wondered?

 

Now he wanted her to levitate one, which seemed a great deal different from a guided tour to the majesty of everything. A single pebble clattered on the stone floor, a small thing compared to that vastness. Faux fixed her posture and resumed clearing her mind. She remembered the pudding on Kashyyyk, and how she was able to throw it across the gathering. She did that much on a fluke, so moving this little pebble should be well within the realm of possibility for her, right? But what had caused that fluke? She remembered feeling a sort of energy about the cup of pudding, what she guessed now was the Force that exists in all things, and she also remembered how surprised that feeling was and how that surprise had turned into revulsion.

 

If it was that revulsion that had caused the cup to go sailing away, then that would infer that intent had a large influence as to how control worked. If that were the case, Faux would have to be careful to keep her thoughts clear and focused on exactly how she intended to move the object. With her eyes closed and her breathing slow and rhythmic, and the massive tree in her mind quickly fading away to nothingness, she let go of any thoughts concerning movement. First she simply had to find the pebble. Already her mental memory had a place for it in her recollection of the room, but she had to find it in the Force. She felt herself, felt the air around her, and the stone beneath. She felt Aryian, but just the awareness if him and the swirls the pebbles he manipulated seemed disorienting. The pebbles were there in the air around him, but it was like extentions of himself holding them and moving them about.

 

Faux thought about that for a moment, letting the idea swim in her perception along with the room. How did he extend himself, exactly? It was his own energy he moved, so how did she move her's? Through knowledge of its existence and visualization. The channels she moved it through had taken time to understand, but now a whole universe of new channels existed for her. Energy flowed not just through people, but freely through all things. Perhaps if she just visualized moving her own energy through a channel between herself and the pebble she could apply it? In with a breath she drew in the Force down into her abdomen, then with an exhale she visualized it coming up from her abdomen into her chest, across the right shoulder and down the arm, through the wrist and into her index finger, and for the first time further into the air before her, out into the space until...

 

The pebble rolled gently half an inch.

 

Inwardly her heart leapt for joy, ecstatic for this monumental achievement, but outwardly she held herself firm, not even looking up to see if Aryian had noticed. Of course he noticed, but he didn't ask her to scoot the pebble. He wanted her to levitate it, just as he had. So she resumed the practice. Time again became inconsequential as her focus became absolute. With a breath in she drew in the Force, and with a breath out the pebble would move a little more. After a dozen or so tries she was able to move her finger left or right and the pebble would shift in tandem. When it began to scoot a little too far away for her liking, she reversed the exercise to pull the pebble with her inward breath, letting the exhale wash through her. Faux lost count of her attempts when she started to begin lifting her finger to make the pebble skip up for a moment, but instead of simply letting the flow fade with the rhythm of her breathing, she invisioned it as a persistent flow, and finally the pebble floated. By the time she could maintain the levitation, holding open the channel for as long as she concentrated beads of sweat had formed on her brow. Faux looked up, away from the pebble that had been her universe for several hours, to see Aryian still standing there. Had he even moved, or did he and she simply didn't notice?

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian had almost nodded off again, but he had been carefully monitoring her over the last few hours. She was diligent, he gave her that. Instead of flicking it halfway across the room like most pupils he'd taught, she took her time and did it right. That time had been hours, but it was important groundwork for everything else she would come to learn.

 

"Good! Good. Relax. You should eat, the dining area is this way. I only have instameal rations stocked here, but they taste good enough. If you're still up to it, we can start on the art of the lightsaber."

 

Aryian led her to the dining hall, detouring once to pick up a training saber from the small sparring ring that was on the way. As they ate, Aryian slid the hilt to her. It would appear like a normal lightsaber, but it was turned down so the blade would pass through flesh and bone without harm. Much harm, anyways, it would still sting and leave a healthy bruise. Better than amputating a limb, anyways.

 

"So, tell me about yourself. I picked you out of the blue, and here you are studying with me, incredibly skilled, and I still know next to nothing about you. And I suppose you know next to nothing about me...but, ah...you first."

[Faux]

Following Aryian out of the meditation chamber, Faux felt the sweat on her forehead cooling in the mild breeze of the walk and was grateful for it. So, now she knew how to move things with her mind. Under normal circumstances that would be absolutely amazing, but after getting just a glimpse of a much larger picture it just didn't feel right reveling in pride just yet. She stood at te foot of a mountain, and today was but a simple step.

 

As they passed by the dueling ring her attention drew closer to Aryian out of reflex, but relaxed as they quickly left. Too many times had she been drawn into a surprise sparring session for her to simply dismiss the idea. The dinning area reminded her of home, small and utilitarian. It had the accoutrements for cooking, but the food her teacher spoke of came in a bag, premade and reheated. It was a far cry from the garden back home, but she was taught that food was food, and any fuss made over it was selfish and childish. So what if it may not have been to her preference, it would do its job.

 

Tearing the bag open, the aroma tha wafted out seemed pleasant, but that was probably her hunger talking louder than her tastes. The contents looked like a stew of sorts, brown with pieces of vegetables and a meat throughout. What the meat was she wasn't sure but she figured it was better not to ask. Tipping the bag to her mouth, a half dozen spices came to mind that would sorely help the meal, but again it was going to sustain her so what did it matter?

 

With her free hand she played with the training saber as she ate, trying to imagine how useful the short club like thing would serve as a weapon. Did it fire, or maybe the blade or rod came out of it?

 

"Not a whole lot to tell, really. My life was pretty plain and simple up until a week ago. I was raised in a monastery hidden away in the dune seas of Tatooine. The monks there taught me everything they had learned of the outside world before they took their vows. Like how to fix our equipment when it breaks down, and how to grow food. We practiced martial arts to stay healthy and build up our vital energy and, and we meditated to keep healthy minds and direct our energy and regulate it. I guess that's why I have the skills you mentioned. I think they translate really well into this universal Force.

 

"But, when I became an adult the monks felt that I had to go out and see the galaxy for myself. They all had their own reasons for escaping the outside world, but none of them were really my reasons, you know? They thought that it wasn't fair for them to force their views on me, so I left to find my own.

 

"The first ship I found agreed to take me to a few planets along their route where I would have sime time to walk about and sightsee, but after the first stop I came to see that they were, uh, some pretty shady characters. They intended to sell me and some other captives to a trader on Nar Shadda. Did quite a number on me, too, before the other captives broke free and got me to a healer in the Jedi. And that's where we met. How about you? I'm sure you've got quite a story given your..." She paused, realizing that he may take offense if she said he was old. "Um, experience."

 

Quickly she went back to eating, hoping he would gloss over the remark. Faux left out the altercation with the slavers because, really, she didn't really want to relive it. Good thumpings had certainly been delivered during her sparring sessions with the monks, but always they always came with temperance and wisdom, reservation but just enough pain to get the point across. What she had experienced at the hands of Chet and his crew of slavers was just sadistic wrath unleashed without a shred of mercy or remorse.

[Ary the Grey]

"Hm."

 

The grunt was one of acknowledgement, but also one of thought, as Aryian's mind wound back, recalling events and people long past.

 

"I guess, for me...the question is really where to start? My service with the Jedi seems prudent, I suppose. I rose through the ranks of the Jedi as quickly as I could, seeing combat and war up close. I specialized in defensive combat, mastering lightsaber styles and Force techniques to become known as the 'defensive master' or the 'shield master.' Meaningless titles, really. The one I'm slightly proud of is Weapons Master, a sort of honorific in the Order signifying my skill across a wide variety of combat styles, Force techniques, and weapons platforms. Very few Jedi actually achieve it, mostly because it's an old ideal to be ready for war these days, as well as the title itself confers no benefit of rank or respect. If anything, I suppose they saw me as less of a Jedi after that."

 

Aryian bit into his meal, savoring the spiced gravy that helped lock in the flavor of his preserved nerf. Swallowing, he continued, "Another thing that the Jedi didn't exactly appreciate was taking a wife, who eventually actually became the Grandmaster for a time. Armiena...hell of a woman. For a while, it was us against the galaxy. We had a son, Aidan. He was at the gathering on Kashyyyk, but...well..." Aryian sighed, stirring his food pouch, "I was never really around much as a father. Other concerns always took priority. Fate of the galaxy and all that. It wasn't really until he was grown that I realized how small I actually was when it came to galactic happenings. Certain things happen and you can't stop them. Other things happen and things have a way of just re-balancing themselves. Point was, I was a shitty dad, and I'm not keen to rip open his wounds just to try to selfishly make amends."

 

"And then...a Sith by the name of Ar-Pharazon managed to ensnare a part of my, well, soul through vile Sith magicks, projecting that part of me through the darkness and twisting it for evil. He anchored it to a clone he'd made of me, while banishing the rest of my essence. Eventually the Jedi managed to undo what was done, but I still vividly remember everything I...he did as Darth Ares. I've not sought to rejoin the Jedi since, mostly out of personal reasoning. I don't feel their philosophies adequate to match what I've experienced throughout my life. So I set about learning everything I could about anything I could, offering that knowledge to anyone who wished. You are the latest in a long line of pupils."

 

For a while, silence as Aryian scarfed down the last scraps of his food. "Ready to take that for a spin?" He gestured to the hilt still sitting in front of her.

[Faux]

That all sounds...insane.

 

As he told his story, the mystery that was her teacher only got deeper. When he mentioned how he felt he had failed as a father, an old wound in her reopened and she had to hold herself back from speaking out of turn. At least his son knew his father, but perhaps he didn't consider that a blessing. At least Faux had the naive luxury to imagine reasons, both good and bad, why they would abandon her to the hands of the monks. At least they still had the possibility of a future.

 

When Aryian spoke of his darker tribulations her eyes grew in horror. She could never imagine such a thing. To have your soul forcably split apart, thrown into another body just like your own, and set to do things you would never do by choice. She considered the weight of those actions on his soul, and if he carried it with him still. But sin, if there was such a thing, was a matter of choice. With his will removed could he really be held accountable? The only thing she saw wrong in that scenario was letting his soul be manipulated in such a way at all, if he even had any control over that degredation.

 

"Sure." She said with a faint smile and a hint of sadness as she picked up the hilt and stood. Faux lead the way back to the dueling circle, silent in her consideration of if she should say anything or not.

 

"You know..." She forced the start of it out, so now she had to say it. "You can't change your past with your son, but you always have the ability to change the future. Don't avoid him out of guilt or fear of how he'll act. Make an honest effort, and if he rejects you at least it's his choice and you don't have to hold on to that regret anymore. That's all I had to say."

 

Aryian was both her teacher and her elder, and she was taught to respect that, but it would never hold her back from speaking her mind and righting wha she imagined to be a wrong. Being a poor parent was a crime in its own right, even if there was justification. And while Aryian may have thought it best for his son to stay out of his life, that dejection his abscence inevitably caused would be the root of much pain for both of them if left untreated. She would know.

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian rubbed his temples through his blindfold, largely choosing to ignore her last comment. Yes, it seemed to be the right course of action, but if his son made the wrong choice after it had been presented to him, Aryian would still feel responsible for failing his son, failing to raise him in a way where he would have made the right choice. If that meant that he would carry this burden for his son, then so be it. After a pause, he began.

 

"A lightsaber is a useful tool, a deadly weapon, and an extension of your will. Many find it difficult to learn to use, as when activated the blade itself is weightless and the handle has a gyroscopic effect, making certain swings difficult if you don't know to expect them. Others, this effect can simply make stronger. Trained Jedi rely largely on the Force to guide their movements in combat, and that gives them a particular edge over those who cannot feel the Force strongly. Firstly, in that they are able to generally hold their own despite a lack of in depth swordsmanship training, and secondly and more importantly, they know when and how to hold the lightsaber so it doesn't slip their grip or harm them. Many who have tried to wield a lightsaber in battle without skill in the Force or any lightsaber training wind up dismembering themselves or outright killing themselves."

 

Aryian took his light-tonfa from its holster, tuning a set of internal knobs in the hilt with the Force until it was set at an appropriate training level similar to the blade he'd given her. He still hadn't told her about that yet, but it would be amusing when she found out. He ignited his blade with a snap-hiss, the silver blade thrumming to life.

 

"Turn yours on, give it a few test swings."

[Faux]

Her teacher glossed over her adviced, but Faux couldn't really expect much else from someone she barely knew. It wasn't her place, certainly, but she also didn't know the full story behind him and his son either. Maybe in time, as they grew more comfortable with one another she could get more of Aryian's history and better understand his decisions. But that was all for another day, because now she held what he described as a very problematic weapon. It had no balance, eradically moved on its own, and was just as likely to cut you as anything else in its path.

 

As Aryian's own lightsaber snap-hissed awake, Faux's eyes grew wide at the brightness of it. It was like a plasma torch three foot long, but didn't have the gushing sound of gas being flushed out a nozzle. The weapon sustained a hum like a light source, electrcity flowing in a circuit. Turning her own over in her hand, Faux saw two small knobs at the tip, and a panel further down where one would be expected to hold it. As she gripped the saber Faux slipped her thumb over the panel, careful to aim the emitter end away from her, and pressed down, snapping it awake. In a fraction of a second the bright yellow of the blade sprang forth, but more prominent to her was the gyroscopic motion Aryian spoke of. It wasn't as dramatic as she was imagining, but it made her have to squeeze harder to keep the blade from wobbling. She had to grab the hilt with her other hand to let her left shift down a little bit to center her palm over what felt to be the center of the wobble. It helped a bit, but it was still an effort to hold. She swung it a couple times, noting the slight trail cast in the blade's wake. She wanted the lesson to continue, but couldn't help herself falling into the first set of movements for the staff she had practiced since she was little. Obviously she couldn't replicate the movements exactly given how different the weapons were, but the moves seemed to come naturally enough. She knew the set wouldn't be very efficient for a lightsaber, it just felt good to move freely and energetically again. As she finished the set Faux returned to her place in front of Aryian.

 

"It's different from my staff. That motion you mentioned is pretty drastic. The strength needed to keep hold of it makes the rest of my arm more rigid."

[Ary the Grey]

"You get used to it, eventually. The same effect can be used to aid the speed of your strikes, or even their strength if swung properly. But your true ally in all of this is the Force. It will reinforce you, guide you."

 

Aryian whipped his own saber about, the blade thrumming loudly as it rapidly carved the air. The movements were almost erratic, but there was a graceful half-rhythm to it all that she might have been able to appreciate having already been trained to use a staff as a weapon.

 

"Many of the movements you will learn are base rote maneuvers. In a real fight, they will not save you. They are meant to get you used to the idea that the saber is an extension of the self, to learn to bend with its turbulence instead of fight against it."

 

He gestured, keying a panel on the wall through the Force and activating a holoprojector. Many stationary images sprang to life around her, all of a faceless robed person holding a lightsaber in various guard positions.

 

"Find one that looks comfortable. We'll start there." After she had done so, he continued. "Close your eyes, reach out with your senses."

 

When he felt she was ready, he slowly struck out with his own blade, cautiously testing to see how she'd react. If she managed to deflect his blade, he might continue on, but if she caught a welting burn he'd likely move into some of the more rote movements of Shii-cho.

[Faux]

Faux knew all too well what he meant by rotes not being practical in a combat setting. Sets of movements were largely intended to facilitate practice, building up the right muscle memory to get all the necessary parts of the whole as simply as possible. Without sparring practice to learn how to break up those sets, however, the body could be locked in that very same memory into a predictable pattern opponents can easily exploit.

 

So, too, was the idea of turning the weapon into an extension of one's self familiar. Countless hours of drilling was demanded to master the rotes, but ten times that was required to adapt that learned behavior it one's very nature. Doing so came at a risk, as every flaw and unfocused moment would be integrated into one's very fabric of being, so it was of the utmost importance to see to every task with the entirety of your attention. Over time, as hours wicked away to days, weeks, even years this conscious behavior becomes so ingrained, so completely part of who you are, that it becomes part of your nature, and now comes as naturally and unconsciously as breathing. Through this focus anything can be mastered, any controlled change attainable.

 

Looking at the holo arrays, Faux judged each for whatever merits she could find applied to this new weapon. One was poised high, quick to come down in a response, but it limited the angles of attack. Another cast the body sideways, narrowing her as a target, but would require her to use the saber with just one hand. The one she ended up settling into looked rather mundane compared to the rest. The saber was held upright in front, both hands on it with her body square at her opponent. One foot was slightly in front of the other, while the back foot was slightly raised at the heel. If nothing else, she recognized it as maintaining the center line around which all movement had to take place.

 

Settling into the stance, she closed her eyes as Aryian instructed, steadied her breath, and tried to slip back into that still flux she had found meditating on the pebble. The room grew dark, but Aryian shone like a soft candle amidst the vacuum. His edges danced ever so slightly, but his center never waivered. In and out she breathed, listening to the steady hum of her saber until a ripple stirred wake. Faux moved before she could think, pushing her arms up and out while stepping toward Aryian. A harsh buzzing filled the silence for a split second as their lightsabers met and fell away, and Faux found herself already taking a hesitant step backward, not quite sure if another swing was coming or where it would be coming from. Despite the unknowing she kept her eyes closed, trusting her instructor implicitly, and maintained her focus in the calm, unrushed flux of the room.

[Ary the Grey]

"Good...good." He struck a few more times, his blade met every time.

 

"Now open your eyes, but don't trust them over the Force." He didn't pull anything out of his sleeves immediately, still mostly just striking at her with just his muscles, a tap or two here, a short sequence there. "You picked the opening stance of Ataru, the fourth rote lightsaber style. Ataru tends to focus on aggression and offense, but also on acrobatics and using the entire environment as your arena. Walls, ceilings, everything becomes a potential angle of attack to flank and outmaneuver an opponent. The unorthodox fluidity of motion from all angles largely creates its own openings." Three more strikes, the last a little faster. "The opening stance is also the most viable stance when leading into offense or defense from a single target wielding a lightsaber, so you chose fairly well."

 

He reached out with the Force again, activating a training remote drone behind her, which slowly rose and began targeting her. He feinted a strike to her right side, pulling back at the last second. The remote was tuned down, like all the other energy weapons in the sparring rings, and would only sting and temporarily numb where it hit. If it hit, that was...

[Faux]

Eyes open, Faux paradoxically found the familiar sense distracting. The flow of the Force between them had seemed like all she could manage to pay attention to as her body moved reflexively to the ebb and flow of what she was feeling. Now trying to see while seeing in another sense felt like trying to eavesdrop in a crowd. Not wanting to struggle with the conflicting view, her eyes slipped into the unfocused form of peripherial vision, dialating to take in the whole of her field rather than any particular thing. To anyone not accustomed to the practice it would seem like Faux's attention was a thousand miles away, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

 

She tried to listen to Aryian as he described the form she picked, but that, too, seemed to fall away to the periphery as her mind clung to that tenuous grasp of the Force she clung to so preciously. Already she began to feel that the very same senses she had honed her entire life were little more than distractions. That little glimpse of everything Aryian had escorted her toward had eclipsed everything she had ever known, trivializing truths as mere pieces of the greater puzzle.

 

To and fro she danced at Aryian's pace, blocking where she felt comfortable and stepping away when the combination seemed to fast or unpredictable. Aryian seemed to almost bend or extend himself for a moment, bt Faux lost it in the sparring. Block, parry, it all felt so reminiscent of her childhood, so simple and...

 

"Holy frakking hell!"

 

As she went to block on her right, Aryian pulled back at the last second and warning bells lit her mind like a traffic sign. Before she could parse the signal out her right side seared for a split second and immediately went numb. To her credit, she didn't drop the lightsaber to cover the faux wound, but her thumb slipped off of the trigger plate, extinguishing her lightsaber, and she took a couple steps back. Her vision found focus as her eyes searched for the source of the sting. A single, cute little remote quietly hummed into view, and Faux shot Aryian an incredulous look.

 

"Day one and you taze me. Wonderful."

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian smirked, his blindfold hiding his gaze.

 

"We can stop, if you like. Did you feel it, though? Not the training remote, the feeling right before. Almost like your body wanted to move on its own accord? That was the Force. Listen to it always, and it may save your life one day."

 

Her attention now focused on the remote, he deactivated it through the Force and tossed it to her. It had expended its training value in this lesson, but would be useful for her later studies.

 

"Keep it on setting one, and try to catch or dodge its shots while your eyes are closed. If you need to, use a blindfold. You know enough now that you should be able to, you just need to trust in yourself...and trust in the Force. When you're done, that's it for the day. I'm going to the medical bay to try and see if my arm is any better."

 

He deactivated his lightsaber, returning it to the original settings, and walked off towards the great hall. He had faith in her...but did she?

[Faux]

I did feel it, she thought to herself as she rolled the little training remote in her right hand. It seemed so mysterious, the vast multitude of things this Force applied to and the many ways it integrated into the world and people around her. The possibilities, much like the expansive universe Aryian had showed her, felt endless. While she was certainly curious about her instructor, Faux's default state when she felt out of her depth was to resort to training. She could follow him to the med bay and ask more about him, or she could look around for more training equipment and get some default conditioning out of the way. Neither set right with her, insted finding her way to the nearest terminal to get a look at the Dojo's archives.

 

Query: Application of The Force

 

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Narrow Search: Categorize by what is effected by application.

 

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Results Found: 5 Categories, with 147 Sub-Categories

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Categories:

 

Self Application

Other Living Application

Environmental Application

Mechanical Application

Metaphysical Application

 

She sighed heavily as the terminal did its work, saving the search parameters to both the network and her personal datapad to make it easier for future use. The first three categories made immediate sense, as she had already glimpsed them in fraction first hand, but her mind had to stretch quite a bit to try to imagine how the Force could be applied to machines. And she had no idea what the category of 'Metaphysical Application' even meant. Could it be a purely theoretical category, or were there somehow first hand accounts of manipulating time and space somewhere within this massive cluster of files. Hopefully as her studies continued she would better understand what she was looking at and know how to refine the search to better suit her curiosity. For now, however, she was simply glad to know that there was a vast archive of information at hand for her to look to when Aryian was otherwise preoccupied. There were too many files to save to her personal datapad outright, but so long as she remained at the Dojo they remained on the network for her to peruse through at her leisure.

 

Afternoon was setting in on Mechis, and Faux had always loved the oranges and reds of the setting sun too much to waste them away inside. She walked the halls for a bit, eyeing each room on the west sde of the Dojo's main hall for the best place to sit down and rest with her new library's worth of reading material. Settling on a rather plain room, Faux walked past most of it while her attention was glued to the screen of her datapad, already absorbed in its depths, and perched herself in a window, half in half out.

 

Aryian's words hadn't fallen on deaf ears earlier. Faux knew all too well how important it was to believe in yourself. The spirit empowers the mind, which controls the body. Meanwhile, the body collects, builds, and supplies vital energy to the mind and spirit. None take precident over the others because there really is no line between them. The are a part of the whole, and where one suffers all suffers.

 

Knowing she was capable was one thing, but if she knew what was even possible to begin with it would make the attempt of such things much more plausible. If she held no doubt to her own capabilities, and removed any doubt as to what is or is not possible, then her mind would have no barricades proceeding forward with her attempts. All that would be left is to practice, and practice she knew without doubt worked every time.

 

The Force is inseperable from the self. Once aware of it, it becomes akin to another sense for the mind to interpret much like the five that the body provide. Really it is more like several dozen senses all tied into one source, each needing to be developed and honed as keenly as any other. It can tell you the truth of other's words and thoughts, even warning you of their intentions before even they are aware of them. It could tell you of the presence of things well beyond the mundane sense. It can even sharpen the five to heights well beyond what nature provides...

[Ary the Grey]

It took a while in the medbay, and there was still a bit of pain to it, but with a few smaller bacta patches in place, Aryian could use his right arm again. His eyesight was dull, but returning slowly. Sometime soon, he'd need to return to the Jedi and get a healer to help fix whatever was wrong with him. He had no problem connecting to the Force, but it still refused to aid his natural healing processes.

 

Still blindfolded, he wandered the dojo, finding Faux hunched over a datapad sitting in a window. The material she was studying was stuff he could have easily explained, but he marveled at how she was so eager to just learn. Approaching her, he spoke up, his tone dry as he wore a wry smile. "Having fun?"

[Faux]

She felt him before she heard him, but he was already so close to her Faux dismissed the tingling feeling as a fluke and not a real triumph. Maybe if she had sensed him approaching outside the halls or further it would have been something to celebrate. Either way, she was making progress in keeping that outward sense alive while her mind was focused on something else. It was still so very faint for now, but like every muscle it just needed exercised to grow stronger.

 

"Oodles." She said just as dryly, breaking away from the datapad. It seemed like Aryian had patched up his right arm a bit, but it still looked like he held it stiffly. "I am just reading up on different things possible with the Force. Knowing something is possible makes the attempt of replication so much more reasonable to a mind making the effort."

 

Tapping the screen away, she stood up from the window and stretched, replacing the datapad in the pouch at the small of her back. "There are a lot of different uses for the Force. Many of the applications stem from being aware of them in the first place to simply recognize the existence. Without that knowledge, the sense you receive would feel like white noise, or appear as another, more familiar thing entirely. Knowing the sciences helps differentiate between some things, but much of it comes from sheer practice and mastery of each minute detail you experience."

 

She smiled, hoping that her interpretation of the several articles she had skimmed through over the last hour or so made a sort of sense. At least, that was how her mind had sorted through all the accounts of Force application on the self. She had only stayed within the first category for now, as manipulating other living things or the environment seemed a tad grandiose for one just stepping on this greater path.

 

"From what I've read, the Force can do some great and terrible things. How can people handle such a thing without exploiting it? It would be one thing if everyone was capable of studying it, but from what I gather only a very, very small percent of people are even capable of sensing the Force, let alone weilding it to any measurable degree. Surely some would collapse under the weight of that responsibility."

[Ary the Grey]

"Well," he began, "not everyone has a sense of morals or responsibility. The Sith are an Order much like the Jedi, but their philosophy differs greatly. They believe that people owe nothing to anyone else, and the only measure of a person is how free they are, freedom to do anything without repercussion.

 

"The Force, for them, is largely just another means of achieving and maintaining power, and through that power attaining freedom. They focus on selfishness in almost everything, where the Jedi focus on everything but that."

 

Aryian summoned the Force to him, reaching out to telekinetically fetch two packages of dried fruit. It was late, and they hadn't eaten in a while, something to nibble on would suit them well.

 

"And then you have people like me who feel the Force doesn't need to be bottlenecked into purpose, that what is, simply is, and that there are machinations in place to keep the galaxy balanced."

[Faux]

Faux accepted the snack with a warm smile, silently nibbling as she fell further into thought. People were just people, regardless of contact with the universally connecting metaphysical or not. She strained to understand how such a thing couldn't touch the hearts and minds of those that felt it, but she supposed it just came down to her own upbringing and internal wiring. Yet, at the same time she understood that it was down to an individual's sense of purpose and will that derived one's method and capacity for manifesting the Force. Across the galaxy, all mannerisms of reasoning could be utilized to draw on such ability. No matter how much she or anyone else may think that their purpose or technique is the correct one, all stood equally valid as a means to an end.

 

Now the collection of statues in the main hall made a little more sense. While the individuals may have come from different Orders and wielded the Force in different manners, their praise was for their capacity to wield the Force, not how. Aryian really did believe that there was no correct method, and seemed to honor any who could master the Force to such a degree. He reminded her a lot of Marcus, her brother monk, who oversaw the majority of her studies growing up. He always said their is no harm in knowledge, only how it is used. Study everything, then use your own sense of reason to sort the truth from the useless fluff.

 

She reached for another dried fruit, passively delighting in it's citrus tang, when to her surprise and dismay she found the bag empty. How long had she wandered away in thought staring out into the rapidly encroaching night?

 

"Well, I hope you're right and the Force has means to balance itself out. But, we are as much a part of the Force as anything else. Who's to say we aren't part of the balancing act?"

 

She stood up from her spot on the window seal, raising her arms high as she stretched up all the way onto the tips of her toes and fell back with a yawn.

 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to call it a night. Is there anywhere particular you prefer I sleep or is right here alright?"

[Ary the Grey]

"Oh, we absolutely are part of the balancing act. Whether we like it or not. Free will, at the end of all things, matters little. The question is can you allow yourself to live with your actions? We largely create our own morality. But, that's a discussion for another time. You can sleep there, if you like, I'm not going to force you to use a bed, but if you want one just search 'dormitory' on one of the terminals."

 

Aryian waved, walking off and leaving her to get some shut eye. He needed some himself, it had been a long journey from Kashyyyk and training had taken more out of him than he'd expected. He was starting to get out of shape, and if anything training Faux would likely help them both. He found a bed, flopped down, and went to sleep.

 

The next morning, he waited for her in the dining area, heating up premade scrambled eggs in their foil pouches. Not the most appetizing meal, but nutritionally it had everything they would need for most of the day. Then again, so did tree bark...

[Faux]

This place has beds?!

 

She was somehow simultaneously excited at the notion of sleeping in a real bed for once and admonished for how excited she was. It is a comfort, the monks had always explained, not a necessity. Growing up she never felt neglected by a lack of one, more curious than anything what sleeping on anything but stone was like. She had fallen asleep on sand dunes before, when the suns were just right that a good eclipse of a dune could provide a reliably long shadow, and often imagined beds being much like big sandbags. Now she could finally try one for herself.

 

After Aryian took his leave for the evening, Faux followed the terminal's instructions down a wing off of the main hall. There were a dozen or so smaller rooms, and a couple marked suites that appeared much larger on the diagram that she assumed were for special guests of the dojo. Faux opened the first of the smaller rooms closest to the main hall. The dorm room had very little, a single bed, a desk and chair with a single glowlight, and a small drawer for spare clothes. She liked it, finally able to claim a space for herself, even one so small and spartan.

 

With no posessions to speak of, Faux left her room for the moment to find a sonic shower. The terminal directed her to the communal baths for the dorm area, but it didn't have a sonic shower. This area used water showers. Again she smiled wide and felt a little ashamed for it. On Tatooine all she had ever seen were sonics, but had heard some of the monks recall water showers with great fondness and longing.

 

An hour later Faux emurged very pruny and red, but it had felt like all the heaviness of her travels since leaving the monestary melted off her and washed away down the drain. First stepping out she felt a little light headed at first, but the cool air outside the shower on her faceand in her lungs felt sobering. It was the cleanest she had ever felt, far beyond anything a sonic shower could accomplish.

 

Back in the room she wasted little time drying before collapsing without protest into the bed, giggling a little as she bounced a little with the landing. With a yawn and a stretch Faux rolled around, tryimg to find just the right spot to curl up and die for the next six hours, probably seven if the sunlight didn't find that exact angle to pierce her eyelids. Her mind grew quiet and her breathing fell into a slow rhythm, but sleep just wouldn't come for her. Tossing and turning, covers on, off, and half off and on, nothing felt right. The damn thing was too soft. Pulling the pillow and cover from the bed, Faux made a small spot right next to the bed and didn't remember falling asleep. Only the cold, hard floor felt right.

 

When she woke in the morning Faux slipped into her morning routine without thought, combining stretches and calisthenics to get her muscles ready and blood flowing. Getting dressed was next, but she had left her dirty clothes in the basket in the bath room. She could put them on again, but after finally getting clean the idea seemed counterintuitive. After rummaging around the dresser she managed to find a simple set of white pants and shirt that fit well enough, if a little loose.

 

"Good morning."

 

Joining Aryian for breakfast, Faux eyed the eggs questioningly before going about eating them. She had yet to spy a bird from which eggs could be acquired.

 

"I don't want to sound ungrateful for the food or presumptuous of your circumstances, but I would be happy to see to cooking as part of my chores."

 

If as to almost prove she was grateful for the food he provided she took her seat across from him and started eating the eggs without hesitating, though clearly these were false eggs ment to create the illusion of real food.

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian swallowed his bite, eyeing her the whole time. He'd forgotten to make coffeine, and they actually had the facilities for that here. He got back up, moving not too far away to begin brewing a pot, addressing her.

 

"Well, we don't exactly have a place around here where we can get fresh meat or produce, but if you like I can arrange a few deliveries. It won't really be cheap, but I haven't really had a cooked meal in forever, so...I suppose it'll be worth it?"

 

He turned to the coffeine pot with a wry grin, summoning a datapad from the next room through the Force. As the brown liquid began brewing, Aryian filled out the pad with a basic list of amenities, sliding the pad to her to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

 

"You know, you have serious natural talent. Just, uh...just thought you should know that. I haven't had an apprentice in a long time who has been able to pick up the basics in a matter of hours. Have you had prior training with meditation or focusing your thoughts or something?"

 

Aryian summoned a glass and the coffeine pot through the Force, pouring himself a steaming hot mug of precious wake-up juice.

[Faux]

Faux couldn't help but smile warmly and blush a little. Was it natural talent or her upbringing in a place devoid of distractions that had let her focus entirely on training?

 

"Yeah, I was raised in a monastery. Every waking hour was devoted to training or chores, both of which had to be done with a meditative mind."

 

She stood from the table, gathering whatever utensils their were to be washed and removing recyclables to their designated recepticle. She didn't want to fall into the old monologues she had heard a thousand times over from the monks, but she also thought it was important for her teacher to understand her on a deeper level to better know how to instruct her. Faux passed on the caff, opting for the simpler and more hydrating water.

 

"I was taught to keep my attention entirely on the task at hand. Physical training was equally mental, as every movement had to hold a conscious intention. The repetition of tasks builds not only a physical memory in the muscle but a neural memory in the pathways within the brain. The idea was to practice until the techniques became part of one's nature, eventually removing the need for conscious thought. This is how we learn to not only master ourselves but also consciously direct the change that life demands."

 

Turning back to Aryian, she felt slightly embarrassed at what felt like a mindless repetition of the rhetoric that had been drilled into her since she was old enough to listen. But she knew better than the embarrasment, knowing this philosophy to be at the core of who she was. It was a simple idea difficult to grasp in its entirety, but she had no doubt one such as Aryian, who had spent his life studying the Force, would could hold it well enough.

 

"Change is the only universal truth." She said with the finality only those without doubt could muster. "Nothing is permenant."

 

With a resigned sigh, she finished cleaning the dining area. Maybe he had more questions, which she woukd happily answer, or maybe her words sated his curiosity for the time being. Nevertheless, Faux couldn't help but wonder if she were somehow preternaturally gifted with the Force itself and her previous training just seemed to facilitate that even further. If so, her abandonment as an infant would seem almost serendipitous now knowing it would lead her to this place and time, under the tutelage of this particular man.

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian nodded, sipping the hot caf.

 

"That's more or less the basic Jedi curriculum, down to even movements and tasks becoming muscle memory. It's how you can learn to concentrate on multiple things, expanding your mind and splitting your focus as necessary without loss of efficiency. As for the nothing being permanent...that almost swings towards dark side philosophies, but it's a principle I also try to teach, so take that however you will."

 

A thought occurred to him, one he should have had earlier. Clearing his throat, he continued.

 

"There are many things I could teach you. I could teach you to master the Force in a myriad of aspects, I could teach you to be a dervish on the battlefield, or someone who promotes and nurtures life. If you like, I can teach you the beliefs of the Sith, though I will warn that their philosophies are riddled with as many problems as the Jedi beliefs. It would mostly be an academic sense...the Dark Side is...rather addictive to those learning it for the first time. But something we should clarify sooner rather than later is what kind of person do you want to be? You were who you were before your eyes were opened to the wonders of the Force, but now everything has changed whether you realize it or not. You stand at the fork of many paths stretching before you, which one would you walk?"

[Faux]

It was curious that Aryian said her entire life and training mirrored that of the Jedi. She had no reason to think of it before hand, but was it possible the monks were connected to the Jedi in some fashion? It didn't feel likely, since there was never any mention of them and no one back home held any command of the Force, at least not nearly to the degree Aryian did. Also curious was how he mentioned part of her philosophy spoke of similar Sith values. What else did they believe that fit within her model of existance?

 

And what path did she want to take? To Faux the question seemed almost paradoxical. She knew that if she were to survive in this wide, new galaxy that had been shown to her full of Masters of the Force such as Aryian, it would require her gain some notable measure of skill. Any area of study she excluded based on some premise of right and wrong, strong or weak, would inevitably become a hole in her understanding of the Force that could blind her to danger or lead her to make decisions based on a lack of evidence.

 

While she needed power to resist that of others, she didn't want it for the sake of itself. She wanted to be free to make her own choices, but didn't want it to necessarily come at the cost of others if it could be avoided. The path of the Sith seemed romantic in theory but callous and self destructive in its execution.

 

And while she did want to nurture life, as Aryian put it, she realized that sometimes things had to break for them to allow them to change into something new. Blindly serving life allows sickness to fester and ends up destroying more life than simply cutting out the cancer would have done.

 

Faux didn't want to be presumptuous in saying that she was not worried about the seductive nature of power for power's sake that plagues the Sith, but the root of all Force use was willpower. So long as she maintained the notions of self control and moderation, why couldn't she avoid the pitfalls?

 

"I want to study everything. No knowledge is truly exclusive from any other, and by avoiding one aspect all others will suffer for it."

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian's eyebrows raised above his blindfold as he tilted his head to look back down at the cup of caf. That was a tall order.

 

"Well, even with someone who is predisposed to learn as fast as you, that would easily take years. But...I think I have some ideas of where to start. At the least, you should be free to do what you want, in the sense of the Sith. To be free from the Sith through their own means. Ironic, but that's just how things are in our life. So...I will focus first on teaching you how to defend yourself, and how to use the Force effectively for a variety of uses."

 

Aryian finished up his food, mumbling over a mouthful of fake-eggs.

 

"I fink, today, wewr gunna take a baf."

 

He wiped his mouth as he stood, putting the remains of his food pouches in the incinerator receptacle.

 

"Finish up, and meet me on the landing pads. Also, bring a change of clothes."

 

Aryian left her, moving up to the landing pads while sending out a message requesting a planetary transport shuttle from the mainframe that ran everything. It would arrive in minutes, likely before Faux managed to get there, which was fine. Aryian had nothing but time.

[Faux]

Take a baf?

 

Faux nodded an ackowledgment, but walked away with a bewildered look. She didn't really have any extra clothes, though she supposed the drawer in her room had more sets of what she changed into this morning. It was a pretty plain outfit that covered more than she prefered, but it did its job well enough.

 

Packing in her room she considered Aryian's advice. He spoke of the training she wanted to take years like he was warning her that it wouldn't be quick or easy, but that prospect wasn't any different than the lifelong pursuit of maintaining physical fitness and mental willpower. She had already known from the very moment that he had guided her into the greater everything that was the Force that this was going to be a lifelong effort. Maybe the warning came from others wanting a quick and easy path of power without devoting the energy to it. According to the monks a vast majority of the galaxy new very little about self discipline.

 

She slipped back to the kitchen to pack a couple of the premade meals into the sachel, already having a rudimentary first aid kit and simple multitool. Along with the clothes the satchel was quite full with little room for much else. Faux headed to the landing pad, not forgetting to clip her training saber to her belt and her little training remote into her pocket. No idea what a baf was, but she had enough if the basics packed she should be relatively prepared.

 

"So what's the plan?"

[Ary the Grey]

"Field trip to the metal refineries."

 

Without another word, they packed into the shuttle, and off it sped. Aryian was quiet during the trip, simply looking out the viewport and surveying the progress Mechis had made as a planet. It had come a long way since the Sith incursion of old, rebuilding and even improving on its technology. In a few minutes, they were at the metal refineries, the entire building operated by large loader droids. Just inside the building was a space meant for humanoids to come observe, complete with a safety scaffold meant for inspectors. Aryian input a few commands at a nearby console, and one of the lumbering behemoths dropped off an over-sized crucible of molten durasteel, ready for inspection. Only then did Aryian speak, taking off his boots as he did so.

 

"The Force is capable of many things, but another primary skill to learn is the ability to manipulate energy. To allow your body to become a conduit so that you can exchange one energy for another. Like heat, for example."

 

With a ginger hop, the aging master jumped straight into the vat, and the Force surged as he delved fully into its caress. His feet met the top of the liquid metal, but due to density, he merely stood on top, bouncing a bit. The durasteel under his feet darkened in color, its heat moving elsewhere. Energy flowed into him through the Force, and he channeled the heat into raw power, his own aura becoming incredibly strong. He spoke from the vat slowly, his concentration taking priority.

 

"It takes a...good deal of focus...but the rewards...are worth it."

 

Aryian slowly climbed up onto the lip of the crucible vat, and then back up onto the safety scaffold, breathing harder but wearing a stupid grin. He hadn't done something that unsafe (but fun) in a long time.

 

"I don't suppose you want to try? We can try here, or nearby there is a steam room. The steam room, at the least, won't kill or seriously injure you if you don't do it on the first try, and I know enough about healing to be able to fix burns."

[Faux]

Oh the way out Faux matched her teacher's silence, taking the time to get a better look at Mechis III than what her arrival yesterday had given her. The downward descent gave only a small view compared to the long panaramic of this trip, even if it were just a few minutes long. Much of the land itself wasn't much to look at, mostly barren rock, but sprinkled about on plateaus and between crevices were many factories for what she didn't know. Without much to speak for with regards for the planet's capability to produce its own food, trade through production would be the only way people could survive here. But then, where there any other people here? She hadn't seen anyone else, and perhaps all those factories were entirely machine operated?

 

As they got the the facility and Aryian wasted no time getting into the lesson, Faux perked up as he mentioned the Force in regards to energy. In her mind, a universal energy is how she made sense of the Force, even if it were something much more obscure than that. Speaking of the body as a conduit made even more sense, as she already viewed it as such with its several channels and resevoirs. A lifetime of learning to control, enhance, and direct her vital energy told her this would be a lesson she could easily grasp. That was...until a massive crucible of molten metal glided by their platform and came to a slow halt.

 

Her eyes grew wide as she watched Aryian take off his shoes, darting back and forth between him and the bright, glowing yellow pool. Her mind raced through her memorized chart of the periodic table, guessing at the temperature of the metal into which Aryian was about to dive. Regardless of the metal, the contents of the vat were likely well over a few thousand degrees to keep the metal in a liquid, light emitting state. He isn't going to...no way.

 

She didn't move a muscle as Aryian took his first step, expecting him to plop right to the bottom and become completely emursed in the molten metal before reason offered her up density as an explaination as to why he was able to stay afloat. The liquid below his feet cooled from the bright yellow slowly to orange, and as he maintained his display even further to a darker orange.

 

Faux broke out of the awe to collect herself, gathering her attention not to the spectacle of Aryian's daring but to what was actually happening in the Force. As the metal made contact with the flesh the heat transfered as it naturally would, but instead of simply gathering at the point of contact, Aryian was able to draw it into the natural flow of his own vital energy. Further, as the metal cooled ever so slightly beneath his feet Faux was able to sense his own vital energy becoming more vibrant, fuller, though she could somehow tell that he was no where near his capacity. Even this phenominal act that would have seemed impossible to her was on the mere precipice of her teacher's understanding. If he was willing, Aryian could have likely stood upon that pool until it came to room temperature, drawing and diffusing the heat into himself to use as he saw fit.

 

As he climbed down from the vat Faux let her thoughts loose to the implications of what she had just witnessed. With these new principles, all mannerisms of energy could be drawn in and transmuted into the same energy we use for normal living function if one were skilled enough in the Force. That being said, the opposite could also be theoretically true. A person's own energy could be used to create electricity and power devices, or heat or light, or even possibly sound. And maybe this practice of energy absorbtion could work even when there isnt an abundance of energy, for instance to remove heat from an area to cool it. Her mind was ablaze with theoretical application. So much so that as Aryian asked if she wanted to attempt the exercise, she had to stare at him blankly for a moment and recall the question before responding.

 

"Do I have to make contact with it to start off? Maybe if I just hold my hand over the pool I can get a feel for it first."

[Ary the Grey]

"Sure. Whatever you need to. If you want to dip your toe in first, metaphorically speaking, at least you're trying, and that's all I ask. I'm here to help should you doubt yourself, you're not alone, but you also need to believe that you can do this on your own. The power is within you, you just need to tap into it and trust the Force."

 

As he spoke, he lent some of his energy to her, subtly, helping to guard any attempt she might make from failure. He would guide her mind, his essence and thoughts gently mingling with hers, withdrawing when she would understand and gain the ability to perform solo. Failure was still a possibility, but Aryian would do everything in his abilities to ensure the penalty for failure wouldn't be severe.