#ehlial

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. -Kahlil Gibran

"You didn't kill him."

Crux had enough patience to wait until Ehlial had said his good-byes to his Jedi Master and the two of them were alone at last.  His anger had simmered the entire time, though the longer he waited the more his temper cooled.  Enough so that his voice remained calm when he spoke, his demeanor unflappable.  

So Ehlial is preparing for his trials to become a Jedi Knight.  

/sniffle

I remember when he was this sixteen year old kid handed over to an old Twi'lek as a student because he was in desperate need of a master who could teach him social cues.

Things that do irritate me typically have good reason for it.

In this case, it was a nearly mob-like behavior toward my Padawan from other Jedi.

I will grant that a handful were simply discussing Juyo form in general, and were not directing their conversation directly at him, and at least one of the people speaking tried to remind the others that they were addressing a Padawan in a very aggressive manner though, unfortunately, it didn't seem many heard her.

The others, including Geviana (which was disappointing) directed specific statements at Ehlial, informing him that he had a Master ranging from irresponsible to stupid to downright awful, that he was going to (not that there was a risk, that it was an almost guaranteed fact) fall to the Dark side if he continued, and left him with the impression that his opinion on the matter did NOT matter because he is only a Padawan.

They may not have said that directly, but the few times he tried to defend himself or suggest that his Master wouldn't allow the training if he felt there was an unreasonable risk, he was shouted down.

I don't mind what was said in regards to me; I am an adult and a Jedi Master, and they're entitled to form whatever opinions they have of me based on either fact or facts they just made up.

I do mind when supposed Jedi Knights and Masters nearly gang up on a Padawan who did nothing but try to join in in an ongoing discussion about various lightsaber forms.

That behavior is unacceptable from anyone, but especially so from Jedi.

They lash out based on fear of a lightsaber form that requires more control and ability to detach from allowing emotions to have a personal affect than most people are capable of doing; that fear is, unfortunately, instilled as part of the warnings when it comes to learning lightsaber forms, and it tends to manifest itself in perceived 'anger' toward people who use it successfully.

A combination of fear of what would happen if they tried and jealousy and resentment that someone they don't feel should be successful (in this case, a Padawan) at something they themselves weren't strong enough to be successful with and--I spend the past two days between myself and Al'dien helping Ehlial rebuild his shaken confidence in himself and in other Jedi.

Geviana, at least, had the good sense to apologize for her behavior toward Ehlial once she managed to calm herself. 

Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.  - Eckhart Tolle

"You've been gone all day," Crux said, sounding almost accusatory.  Ehlial used to feel a touch of anxiety at the tone of voice.  Now he said nothing as he climbed the stairs to ship's main walkway.

"My apologies, Lord Crux.  I had to meet with Master Al'dien again, and this time Master Azi'xoss was also present."

The pureblood's nostrils flared, not entirely satisfied with the answer.  Their dynamic was changing, Ehlial noted, though he wasn't entirely sure why, or how to repair the growing rift between them.   Crux had watched over him for nearly a year now, seeing him change, seeing him grow into the Jedi he knew he had to become.

The fun thing about Ehlial is how quickly he bounces back from, well, everything.  Bad things have happened to him, and while I'm not going to say they stop affecting him, he simply accepts the bad more easily and moves on from it.  

Poor kid had a bit of a eye opener (bad phrase for a Miraluka!) tonight, and had to discuss it with his Master, Azi'xoss.  And he's already over it, with no ill will toward anyone.  

Bittersweet, the victory.  Watching Ehlial dance across the platform in perfect harmony with the Force.  His lightsabers hummed as they blocked, deflected, and sliced through anyone foolish or unlucky enough to get too close.  Crux could not have felt more pride in that, knowing he played at some small part in the young man's training.  

Eventually the circle surrounding him vanished.  Those who still lived had the sense to fall back, their dead and injured comrades a testament to the wisdom of running.  The ground trembled briefly, and the real reason for their retreat became evident. 

The droid stood so tall it nearly brushed the ceiling.  Eight legs, four of them equipped with a variety of weapons.  It cycled through them rapidly, firing on the young Jedi before switching to the a plasma bomb launcher.  Ehlial easily deflected the blaster fire and leapt away from the bomb's location, just as it exploded.  The momentum of it propelled him further forward and he barely corrected himself.

This was enough for the droid to grasp the youth's ankle with a hook and reel him in toward the chassis, where mechanical fang-appendages had already charged up a high powered shock of energy.  Ehlial's body thrashed briefly, caught in the throes of electrical (insert word here) and Crux felt something in him sink.  

Then suddenly Ehlial stopped convulsing, jammed both of his hands into the maw of the droid and pried himself free.  Dropping abruptly to the ground, he immediately leapt out of the way as the droid attempted to reclaim him by jerking it's head down, striking the floor hard enough to buckle the metal grating.  

Ehlial seized the opportunity, leaping onto the head of the droid and driving both of his lightsabers into it at once, holding on for dear life as it rocked back and forth violently.  It swayed both as an attempt to dislodge the Jedi and as an indication of sudden power and sensory failures.  He held on tight, jerking the lightsabers back and forth, driving them in as deep as he could manage.

Finally the droid simply collapsed, sparking where the sabers had cut through, legs twitching like an insect recently crushed beneath a bootheel.   Ehlial stepped off, lightsabers held at odd angles, one jutting out behind him, the other out to his side.  Did he teach him that?  He couldn't remember, things were already becoming distant.

"Crux?"

Crux could not move or speak.  He knew as surely as he knew the boy, no the man before him, would be the victor in this, that he was dead.  Only through sheer tenacity, refusal to become one with the Force just yet had he witnessed any of the battle.  He had to see this, to watch his final triumph and the fulfillment of his visions.  

"Crux?"

He practiced with wooden swords, meant to spare the training dummy from being neatly sliced in half by a proper lightsaber.  Forms taught to him by a number of Jedi Masters, from Master Yalaan to Master Al'dien, and a few Lord Crux managed to teach him.  After convincing the youth that it wasn't cheating or taking advantage of an opponent to strike them from behind.

One move melded into another, a flurry of blows striking the dummy with precision.  He focused his sight on only the room, blocking out the activity going on elsewhere in the ship.  In his mind, he imagined a dozen different scenarios and worked through them all.  

He stopped only when a bead of sweat on his brow distracted him for a moment and he realized he was not alone.  Two figures stood in the doorway, the bulky form of Lord Crux and a smaller, more slender man in a synthleather jacket and dusty pants.  An old, well used blaster hung from a holster on his hip.  

"Jedi," Lord Crux began, sounding more irritated than usual, "This individual insists on seeing you."

It was not like the Sith to let anyone in to see Ehlial like this.  The padawan reached up to pull his hood back, setting the practice swords on the ground.  "It isn't often I get guests.  Can I help you, sir?"

The stranger, he realized, was much older than he first though.  Wrinkles around the corners of his mask, his hair thinning around the temples.  When he spoke, his voice was low and gravely.  "Guess it'd be too much for you to recognize your old man when you never met him in the first place, huh?"

Crux sighed in exasperation, leaving Ehlial to wonder what their conversation had been before coming here.  "He insists that he's your father, Jedi.  I can throw him off the ship if you like."

"No," Ehlial said, just a little too swiftly.  He thought back to his childhood, to Alpheridies.  His mother's wan smile as she watched him in the fields.  He asked her why she seemed so sad.  

You look a little too much like your father, she replied.

He held a hand out to the stranger, who seemed delighted to shake his.  "I don't even know your name."

"Jaaroh Sahnin, kiddo," the spacer replied with a grin, "And damn if you just had blonde hair you'd be my spittin' image."

"Welcome back, Jedi, are they done properly indoctrinating you already?"

Ehlial stood there silently for a few stunned moments.  Lord Crux had been in a mood ever since they had landed on Tython and he had remained aboard the ship.  Even if the Council allowed him access to the temple grounds so long as he behaved, the stares and reproachful glances weren't something he tolerated very well.  Despite the long travel through hyperspace, he refused to join Ehlial down on the planet.  

But this utterance was most unusual for the Sith.  No matter how much Crux wanted to voice his disdain he usually kept it to himself or let it out in small cryptic murmurs when he thought the Miraluka wasn't listening.  

"I'm happy to see you, too, Lord Crux," Ehlial replied simply and finished climbing the gangplank. 

The Sith snorted, "So you have a sense of humor now? Did they implant that in you while you were down there or should I have the doctor check you for fever?"