Yavin IV
The leather wrapped hilt of Grandmaster Oota Boan sat on the surface of a knee high bare marbled stone table in the circular meditation chamber. Vahn remembered what it felt like to pick up that saber, to hold it in his hands. He’d felt anger. Resentment. Hatred. But also, for a few moments he had felt a deep sadness. It was like the saber was crying in those moments when he first picked it up. Since then however, it had been remarkably quiet by the time he had gotten it back to Yavin. Now, it merely radiated an oppressive, possibly purely psychological oppressive aura to the Knight.
Vahn stood just beyond the table, one hand slowly stroking through the dark, short cropped beard on his chin. Loose, silver-grey robes hung off of him as he remained still. His eyes bore into the saber as it sat there, and a thousand thoughts ran through his head. He had never done something like this before, so was he even the right person to be involved? Strangely, he felt compelled, responsible in a way he didn’t expect, but his better sense had encouraged him to seek help from other Jedi for this task. He regretted that it was only feasible for a few trusted Jedi to be involved in this process. Many Jedi hadn’t had a chance to say good bye to the old Grandmaster, himself included, and whatever was left of Oota Boan would be sheltered somewhere deep inside the kyber. Vahn's throat was tight for a moment, and he swallowed hard. This was the least he could do.
Vahn carefully knelt down onto a cushion before the table, tenderly picked up the saber, and slowly, methodically started to unwrap the leather from around the hilt. There was an uncharacteristic reverence to the Knight’s motions, every turn of his hand deliberate, with the weight of the saber cradled against his palm. He set the leather wrappings aside, folding them carefully up before turning back to the saber.
Master Boan had once let him look at his saber when he was very new to the Jedi back on Ajan Kloss. He had been dangerously interested in sabers, and so the Master had allowed him to take a close look at his own, seizing the chance to teach him about the proper use and purpose of a Jedi’s weapon. Defense and protection, never for attack. His own beliefs about the purpose of the Jedi had radically shifted since those first teachings by the old Healer, but this, this he remembered. Every step, every turn of a screw or shift of a plate. He remembered, and his heart was heavy.
It was only when he slid open the crystal shroud that Vahn recoiled, the saber tumbling from his grasp.Vahn remembered the Grandmaster’s saber; a brilliant cyan, like someone had pulled a shard of the sky down below into the Jedi’s hand. He had expected something. He had expected much. He knew the Grandmaster’s kyber crystal had been bled. He had seen the black blade in Asminys’ hand, but even still he didn’t expect...this.
Oota Boan’s kyber crystal sat inert in its shroud, like a glistening shard of obsidian. Red smoldered deep within like the remains of a fire. A spike of fury swelled in Vahn’s chest, and it took a great effort to beat it back down.
Vahn stood just beyond the table, one hand slowly stroking through the dark, short cropped beard on his chin. Loose, silver-grey robes hung off of him as he remained still. His eyes bore into the saber as it sat there, and a thousand thoughts ran through his head. He had never done something like this before, so was he even the right person to be involved? Strangely, he felt compelled, responsible in a way he didn’t expect, but his better sense had encouraged him to seek help from other Jedi for this task. He regretted that it was only feasible for a few trusted Jedi to be involved in this process. Many Jedi hadn’t had a chance to say good bye to the old Grandmaster, himself included, and whatever was left of Oota Boan would be sheltered somewhere deep inside the kyber. Vahn's throat was tight for a moment, and he swallowed hard. This was the least he could do.
Vahn carefully knelt down onto a cushion before the table, tenderly picked up the saber, and slowly, methodically started to unwrap the leather from around the hilt. There was an uncharacteristic reverence to the Knight’s motions, every turn of his hand deliberate, with the weight of the saber cradled against his palm. He set the leather wrappings aside, folding them carefully up before turning back to the saber.
Master Boan had once let him look at his saber when he was very new to the Jedi back on Ajan Kloss. He had been dangerously interested in sabers, and so the Master had allowed him to take a close look at his own, seizing the chance to teach him about the proper use and purpose of a Jedi’s weapon. Defense and protection, never for attack. His own beliefs about the purpose of the Jedi had radically shifted since those first teachings by the old Healer, but this, this he remembered. Every step, every turn of a screw or shift of a plate. He remembered, and his heart was heavy.
It was only when he slid open the crystal shroud that Vahn recoiled, the saber tumbling from his grasp.Vahn remembered the Grandmaster’s saber; a brilliant cyan, like someone had pulled a shard of the sky down below into the Jedi’s hand. He had expected something. He had expected much. He knew the Grandmaster’s kyber crystal had been bled. He had seen the black blade in Asminys’ hand, but even still he didn’t expect...this.
Oota Boan’s kyber crystal sat inert in its shroud, like a glistening shard of obsidian. Red smoldered deep within like the remains of a fire. A spike of fury swelled in Vahn’s chest, and it took a great effort to beat it back down.
@Arclight