Loss of Hope [Maximus]

[Zaine]

"Hey guys! I heard from a teach that we all got shipped off if we didn't get a master before we turned 13!"


This one sentence must have gone through Zaine's head thousands of times as he restlessly paced back and forth through his small bedroom. Only four days left... 4 days and he would be put to work in the Service Corp. Four days and he would lose all chance of becoming a Jedi. Everyone he knew; all of his friends, were gone. The boy was all alone in his state of hopelessness. Zaine continued pacing, staring downwards, slowly losing hope that he would be taken as a padawan. The boy wanted desperately to just tell the council about it, but the boy could find at least ten good reasons why it'd be the dumbest move ever made.


Overcome by boredom, the boy lifted his head and came to a halt at his door. Zaine quickly hit a red button on the side of the door and watched it slide open at light speed. Taking a step out, the boy hit another red button on the outside and began walking down the halls. Zaine passed many older men and women, each with a young uniformed child by their side. Zaine envied them. He continued walking, drawing his lightsaber and fiddling with it as he strode boringly toward a long metallic bench. Slowly taking a seat, the bored and somewhat sad boy lazily leaned back, sheathed his lightsaber, and looked up towards the high stone ceiling.


No miracles will happen this time. There is no hope left.

[Dutch]

Another calm day in the temple- how Sage Master Ackbar loved this place. Though the Jedi were supposed to not form connections, the countless hours he had spent here over his fifty year tour of being a Jedi almost made him love the place automatically. It was common for the aged Mon Calamari to wander the halls of the Temple, checking up on his fellow Jedi, speaking with any visitors who stopped by, whatever the Force led him to. Rested in one of his hands was a handle-less cup of hot tea. Rylothian Ginger- his favorite.

Ozzril calmly walked the hall, letting the Force flow from him freely, an aura of peace and calm surrounding the Jedi. Another habit of Ozzril's, in these times, people- Jedi or not- were strained and concerned, and sometimes, it took a pillar, an unfaltering presence of confidence and hope to help keep them sane, and unafraid. Though busy with his classes, as well as Council doings, the older man felt that this was just as important. In his thoughts, a sudden whisper tickled his brain, a slight presence in the Force- a desperate one, a hopeful one, and yet, a sad one.

The Jedi paused and large golden eyes scanned the area before turning to a boy on a bench. Without saying anything, the Mon Cal turned and sat on the bench on the boy's left side, close, but not uncomfortably. He took a sip of his tea and sighed gutturally, smacking his mouth wetly and opening his mouth slightly- a Mon Cal smile.

"I've always wondered what it is that makes Rylothian Ginger tea so good..."

Said the Jedi, his right eye slightly turned towards the boy. There was definitely something special about said tea- as the majority of sentients couldn't stand the smell of it, let alone the taste.

[Zaine]

Zaine let out a quiet, tired sigh as he gave a quick glance to the older man that had, so casually, broken the silence that the boy enjoyed ever-so-much. Zaine recognized the Mon Calamari. He had seen the man in the council chambers countless times. Just his luck. The boy began to immerse himself deeper into his thoughts as he leaned further back, desperately trying to mask his depression. After no more than ten seconds, the boy looked to his left, noticing the Master was still there, enjoying his tea like nothing was going on.

"I...Don't know.." the boy spoke quietly, eying the man like he was insane.

Why was he acting so casual? It was obvious the man sensed Zaine's conflict or he would have never tried to initiate a conversation in the first place. The boy lazily reached onto his belt and lifted his small training saber, beginning to fiddle with the controls. After a moment, he began to catch the scent of the sickening beverage the man was casually consuming. Zaine began to cough and turn his head, disgusted at the smell of the tea that had slowly floated into his nostrils.