Into Darkness (Cris'hapris' Training)

[Mathaniel]

The room was dark. The torches on the wall created little light, which made Cris'hapris nervous. No one here was his friend. Few were even acquaintances. He didn't know who or what would come through the door, and he didn't know if it would be friendly. He needed more light to even attempt to see with his eyes, but there was nothing he could do but wait.

The people he had come in contact with whenever he found the temple didn't seem normal. They seemed as if something was inside them. Something different. In a way, Cris didn't want to be here. He didn't feel secure here. But, then again, what else did he have? He needed to find his parents. Needed to get them back. The only way he was going to do that was to fight, and the only way to learn to fight was through the teaching he'd recieve here. He was questioning now if he should've gone to the Jedi Order. The man had said that the jedi here were different, and he trusted him. He seemed to have something different that Cris had never seen before, much like the people he had met when he arrived at this place.

Cris'hapris wanted that.

 

[Azium]

With her boots heavily thunking against the floor, Zinthra made her way down the corridor, arms clasped behind her back with her head down. The torches provided hardly enough to see by, but it made no difference to her. Thin wisps of brown hair from her messy braid framed her paling skin, eyes outlined by busted blood vessels turned black. These were the marks of the dark side taking over the user. Five sabers hung from her belt, one being her actual blade, the four others mere trinkets from her padawan training days. She still kept them, wanting to return to Ossus at some point in time to retrieve her old students and turn them towards the dark.

Slipping into the room Zinthra hardly brought her gaze up to her Acolyte, a Nautolan. With an expression of irritating boredom she heaved a sigh, half turning back to the door, "Come on... There's no time to waste..."

Training Acolytes was different than training padawans, if one died during the process then it was no skin of her nose. It was a luxury she rather liked since she preferred to rough up her students to polish them smooth. She enjoyed such.

 

[Mathaniel]

The figure appeared out of what Cris thought was a wall. Had that been where the door was? It didn't matter. He hurriedly walked across the room to stand next to her. He had heard her voice and assumed she was female. Now, standing next to her, he had no doubt. Again, something was different about her that he had never felt. It somewhat angered him that so many people had this when he did not.

"Are you my teacher?" he asked. He knew he had said it rather bluntly, but the words seemed to jump out of his mouth. He didn't like being nervous.

 

[Azium]

"Yes, I am," Zinthra answered before returned the way she came, back turned to her student and heading back down the corridor. As she went her hands remained clasped behind her back, a twitch of her shoulders making them tense every now and again. The dark side was tempting her to strike out at some one, any one, she hadn't seen combat in days yet she tried to keep her reserve.

Winding through the temple they came to a rather large chamber, the Crusader lumbering towards the middle before she turned to face her student. She could sense his emotions, his uncertainty making her nose curl up. Slightly hunched over she reached out through the Force to seal the door behind him before both hands flung out on arms outstretched out. With a bit of levitation she lifted the torches off their holds, flipping them upside to set on the floor, distinguishing the flames and plunging them into complete darkness.

 

[Mathaniel]

He didn't know what would happen next. This was a test, but he wasn't sure what it was for. The dark seemed to find every source of light and destroy it. He turned his head slightly to see if there was any light coming into the room behind him. He found nothing, and shifted his head back around towards his master. At least, that's where he thought his master would be. He wasn't sure in this room.

He attempted to find the emotions of his teacher. Nautolans were born with the ability to do so, but to his dismay he couldn't. It was as if she wasn't even in the room anymore. But she had to be, didn't she? Why would she bring him into darkness and leave? She must have been hiding her feelings somehow. This was new to Cris'hapris. With no way of defending himself, Cris simply shut his eyes. It didn't help to see, but it calmed him.

You're here to learn.

 

[Azium]

The fact that he was closing his eyes told Zinthra she was completely cloaked, not registering on any of his senses. Although, she was standing right in front of him. A gloved hand would come up to be gently placed on the top of his head, fingers intwining into his lekkus. The Crusader unmasked herself, dropping all restraints to let the dark side wrap its slick oily tentacles around her very psyche. Her presence would grow increasingly stronger, breathing becoming haggard, "… what do you feel?"

It was a question for all his senses, from the Force to touch. Though Zinthra wore rather thick leather gloves, she was cold, increasingly when she called upon the dark side. The only sound in the black was her troubled breathing, even the hiss of dying flames had diminished. The ex-Jedi reached into the point with in the fabric of the Force to feel just how connected he was and where his alignment lay. If she had to, she would break him and then begin training.

 

[Mathaniel]

He had no idea that she was so close, and the question came rather suddenly. What was he feeling? What was this...this sensation? He didn't know how to describe it, but he did his best.

"I feel...lost."

He stopped talking. He was afraid he had said the wrong thing. The words rolled off his tongue well enough, but the feeling they left made him cold. He needed to describe it to her. He needed to let her know that it wasn't something that would hold him back. He tried to speak again, but nothing came out. His mind would not let his mouth form the words. It was trapped in the darkness, just like himself.

 

[Azium]

Lost. That was an emotion in and of itself. With his vague, yet specific, explanation Zinthra removed her hand, leaving him standing in the center of the chamber. Picking up her feet she hardly made a sound as she crept about, digging a hand into the pouch of her belt she brought forth a handful of beads. One would be squished between her fingers before flicking it hard towards the Nautolan. Though her senses were sharp, she knew she wouldn't hit him. She was actually aiming for the stone floor near him, the distinct ting of the metal sphere landing hard before skittering away.

This was how Zinthra trained her Acolytes, the same way she had trained her padawans, by throwing them into the worst possible scenario to see what they would do to get out of it. This was an exercise to sharpen the grasp on sensing out the living with in a certain radius. The chamber wasn't quite large enough but it would suffice.

 

[Mathaniel]

The ball rolled next to his foot. Opening his eyes, he reached down and picked it up, wondering what it was for. It felt smooth. Another part of the test? He could now hear faint footsteps, but he wasn't exactly sure where they were coming from. He cocked his head to the left and then to the right, but he still couldn't place the steps. He felt uneasy not knowing where his master was. Or was this his master?

She still hadn't said her name or asked for his. Cris'hapris was unsure if she was the person he was to go with. She had said that she was his master, but did she know who he was? Did she lie? Did she lie unknowingly?

He opened his hand, palm towards the ceiling, the ball placed in the center. With nothing left to do, he waited.