Post by Vex on Dec 27, 2007 4:23:13 GMT -5
The hum of electricity was rife in the air, the sound flowing about for a moment before undulating quickly in flutter of peaks and dips.
The practice chamber was relatively small, twenty meters to a side, but it held high, vaulted ceilings, giving a certain sense of grandeur to the room despite its size. The lighting had been dipped down into a dim gloom. Theron always preferred it that way when he practiced. He found it both therapeutic and meditative. This resulted in his form being cast into a severe, ever-shifting kaleidoscope of light and shadows as he moved his lightsaber around him.
Feign, spin, plant the foot. The Chiss rocked back as though dodging a strike, lead foot out, leg extending while the other was back, knee cocked at a ninety-degree angle, thigh flat. Shifting the momentum he thrust forward, hips thrusting forward and carrying the rest of him as his form was suddenly reversed, back leg stretched, lead leg now bent so the thigh was evenly with the ground. His arms had extended, thrusting the tip of the lightsaber into a phantom enemy.
Bare from the waist up, the light from the blade caused him to glisten from the waist up in a strange, scintillating azure manner. He had been at this for well over an hour, trying to purge his thoughts and emotions through the meditative flagellation of combat forms.
Lifting up slightly, his footwork changed, shifting and flowing back and forth, always keeping him in motion, seeking to offer the maximum potential of each movement. He had been practicing these movements for well over a decade and he moved through the various poses, attacks, and defenses of his preferred Forms without thought.
This mindless action served to settle his mind and emotions. At least, it normally did. This day he found himself particularly troubled and could not say why. Visions from his last pursuit echoed in his mind...most notably the last, the woman who had been seduced to the Dark Side.
Theron had difficulty considering her a woman. She could not have been more than in her late teens. The truth of her age would never be known to him, but the thought remained. He could still see those eyes...wide hazel eyes, staring into his own, pleading with him.
Snapping his blades into the separate hilts, he took up the repetitions more ferociously.
She had been a practitioner of the Dark Side...involved in a cult that sought to circumvent and destabilize the Order and what it stood for. She had to die. His conviction argued that point vehemently. He tried to draw upon that conviction, pulling upon the emotions that were drawn along with it to salve against his doubts.
There is no Emotion, There is Peace...
He stumbled, stutter stepping at that unexpected thought. Where had that come from? It was the first lines of the Jedi Code. He had learned that from the very beginning, tried to embrace it to the best of his ability. Her demise had been logical, the best decision for the greater good.
Was it? So young, so ignorant. Could she not have been made to see a better way?
Doubt? Did he doubt himself? Preposterous! He knew he was right.
There is no Ignorance...there is Knowledge.
Gritting his teeth, he threw himself into his drills, pushing himself with a passion borne on desperation, seeking to absolve himself from the demon of this unexpected self-doubt. Many long minutes went by as he stayed there at his limit, seeking the burn of his muscles to scorch away the thoughts of his mind. Finally, he was forced to slow down...the lightsabers heavy in his slick grip. The hair at his nape was soaked and stuck to his shoulders and back as it licked at his jaw. He had drawn on every memory he had, ever battle he would fought against practitioners of the Dark Side, using it to bolster himself and his determination for his cause.
There is no Passion, there is Serenity.
He let the blades flicker out, bringing his palms up to his temples as though he could physically push the thoughts out of his head. The more he thought about them, the more they whirled about his head. He dropped down to his knees, head bowed as he tried to make sense of the chaos.
There is no Chaos, there is Harmony.
Distantly, he recognized the voice...filtering up from memories he had tried to ignore. That same voice...always speaking to him, lecturing, and mentoring. That voice had driven him, guided him for years, taught him all that he had known of the Force and how one should use it. He had not heard that voice for a long time...well over two standard years...not since they had argued and Theron had walked away for the final time.
"Why am I thinking about you now, Master Dao? You have been dead for over a year..."
There is no Death, there is the Force.
Theron dropped back farther on his kneels, curling down until it almost seemed he was supplicating himself upon the floor. He did not understand this...why he was thinking of this now?
He just wanted it to stop....
The practice chamber was relatively small, twenty meters to a side, but it held high, vaulted ceilings, giving a certain sense of grandeur to the room despite its size. The lighting had been dipped down into a dim gloom. Theron always preferred it that way when he practiced. He found it both therapeutic and meditative. This resulted in his form being cast into a severe, ever-shifting kaleidoscope of light and shadows as he moved his lightsaber around him.
Feign, spin, plant the foot. The Chiss rocked back as though dodging a strike, lead foot out, leg extending while the other was back, knee cocked at a ninety-degree angle, thigh flat. Shifting the momentum he thrust forward, hips thrusting forward and carrying the rest of him as his form was suddenly reversed, back leg stretched, lead leg now bent so the thigh was evenly with the ground. His arms had extended, thrusting the tip of the lightsaber into a phantom enemy.
Bare from the waist up, the light from the blade caused him to glisten from the waist up in a strange, scintillating azure manner. He had been at this for well over an hour, trying to purge his thoughts and emotions through the meditative flagellation of combat forms.
Lifting up slightly, his footwork changed, shifting and flowing back and forth, always keeping him in motion, seeking to offer the maximum potential of each movement. He had been practicing these movements for well over a decade and he moved through the various poses, attacks, and defenses of his preferred Forms without thought.
This mindless action served to settle his mind and emotions. At least, it normally did. This day he found himself particularly troubled and could not say why. Visions from his last pursuit echoed in his mind...most notably the last, the woman who had been seduced to the Dark Side.
Theron had difficulty considering her a woman. She could not have been more than in her late teens. The truth of her age would never be known to him, but the thought remained. He could still see those eyes...wide hazel eyes, staring into his own, pleading with him.
Snapping his blades into the separate hilts, he took up the repetitions more ferociously.
She had been a practitioner of the Dark Side...involved in a cult that sought to circumvent and destabilize the Order and what it stood for. She had to die. His conviction argued that point vehemently. He tried to draw upon that conviction, pulling upon the emotions that were drawn along with it to salve against his doubts.
There is no Emotion, There is Peace...
He stumbled, stutter stepping at that unexpected thought. Where had that come from? It was the first lines of the Jedi Code. He had learned that from the very beginning, tried to embrace it to the best of his ability. Her demise had been logical, the best decision for the greater good.
Was it? So young, so ignorant. Could she not have been made to see a better way?
Doubt? Did he doubt himself? Preposterous! He knew he was right.
There is no Ignorance...there is Knowledge.
Gritting his teeth, he threw himself into his drills, pushing himself with a passion borne on desperation, seeking to absolve himself from the demon of this unexpected self-doubt. Many long minutes went by as he stayed there at his limit, seeking the burn of his muscles to scorch away the thoughts of his mind. Finally, he was forced to slow down...the lightsabers heavy in his slick grip. The hair at his nape was soaked and stuck to his shoulders and back as it licked at his jaw. He had drawn on every memory he had, ever battle he would fought against practitioners of the Dark Side, using it to bolster himself and his determination for his cause.
There is no Passion, there is Serenity.
He let the blades flicker out, bringing his palms up to his temples as though he could physically push the thoughts out of his head. The more he thought about them, the more they whirled about his head. He dropped down to his knees, head bowed as he tried to make sense of the chaos.
There is no Chaos, there is Harmony.
Distantly, he recognized the voice...filtering up from memories he had tried to ignore. That same voice...always speaking to him, lecturing, and mentoring. That voice had driven him, guided him for years, taught him all that he had known of the Force and how one should use it. He had not heard that voice for a long time...well over two standard years...not since they had argued and Theron had walked away for the final time.
"Why am I thinking about you now, Master Dao? You have been dead for over a year..."
There is no Death, there is the Force.
Theron dropped back farther on his kneels, curling down until it almost seemed he was supplicating himself upon the floor. He did not understand this...why he was thinking of this now?
He just wanted it to stop....
