Bright light reflected in muddy blue eyes as he sifted through the starkly lit halls of the Brighthome temple. Tattered boots scuffed the glossy and metallic floor as he strode diligently. The temple attendant assigned to direct him to his quarters was simply not as perturbed by the flocks of jedi filing in through the halls, knight and padawan learner alike. She coursed through them with practiced grace, but soon stopped at the crossroads of two corridors as she noticed her assignment suddenly vanished into a crowd of gathered learners.
The wayward jedi knight emerged from the crowd with a hushed apology to those obstructing his path, his eyes turned down to the floor before flitting back up to find the waiting attendant. With a sigh of relief, he adjusted his rucksack to a more comfortable position over his shoulder; his only belongings: his lightsaber, a stowed blaster pistol, and a scarred vibroblade strapped against the leather pack. He wore simple farmer's clothes, with the most expense spared to his stitched boots, though still modest and primitive in make. Most memorable, perhaps, was the sleek grey poncho he wore to cover most of it; Rebellion era tailoring, with many pockets and attachment systems reminiscent of wartime uniform. Stains of green and brown, of mud and grass, had weathered the once well made garment—telling a tale of much time spent away from the cleanly infrastructure of the civilized galaxy.
The temple attendant's eyes were lowered to her holopad as she waited for the knight. "Would you like me to walk more slowly, sir knight?"
Noone managed a subtle smirk, and a wave of the hand as he returned to her side. "No." The Anzat crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the learners gathered in the halls, fraternizing and sharing in kinship with one another between trainings. "Apologies. It has been some time since I've been around this many people."
"Do you find it over-stimulating?" The attendant tipped her head just slightly as she asked, once again turning on heel to direct Noone forward.
"I will adjust," Noone spoke hesitantly, picking up his step to follow her.
They walked through the halls of Brighthome a bit longer, finally arriving at a compact sliding door. It was one of many lining that particular hall; housing units for jedi learners. The attendant approached the door and placed her palm upon the access pad at it's side. Noone made no reaction as his new home was revealed to him... Metal and decorum. It was nice, certainly, one of the nicest rooms he'd ever been handed—but it was simply a box, a well maintained box. It intensified his yearning to be back in the warm, lush jungle of Ajan Kloss. He felt more at one with the force there, alongside the vast ocean of life that existed within nature.
The attendant looked up from her datapad just in time to see Noone sink further into himself. His longing did not require the force to sense. "The access pad here will allow you to call for assistance. An attendant will arrive within a few hours to alert you when it is mealtime."
Noone made no response... No movement.
She reached out and rest her hand upon his shoulder, steadying him for a moment and causing him to blink free of his thousand yard stare. His eyes found hers, waiting to meet his gaze with a look of reassurance. "May the force be with you."
Noone nodded in return, his stare gliding back toward the open door to his unit as the attendant cut around him to return to her duties.
The room chimed with that soft thrum of habitat machinery. Deep humming droned in through the walls as he spent his first hour in meditation, focusing past the sound even as it crowded around him. His eyes drifted open to take in the vast emptiness of stars beyond the large window comprising one full wall of the room. His irises, fierce and alien, trembled in their sockets as he suddenly felt a great pressure beyond that instilled in him by the oppressive feeling technology built around him. A trembling hand rose from his lap to swipe through his charcoal curls, grown long and wild since the last time he had access to grooming. Noone drew in a deep breath as he calmed the storm of thoughts rolling in over his mind. Guilt... Regret... Anger... Sadness... Washing over him like a gentle tide... He allowed them in, letting himself be conjoined with his feelings, breathing deep of them... He exhaled slowly... His gaze sharpened to focus.
Hunger was setting in.
A second journey into the halls of the Brighthome, but not to the Mess Halls. Finding the Infirmary Wing was easy enough given the accessibility of the temple, which was one greatly redeeming quality, in his opinion. With primary training sessions underway, the halls were also much easier to wander, making his trip all the less anxiety-inducing. When he found the signature sterile white walls of medical facilities, he approached the first droid and or healer who appeared openly available, posing a soft-spoken question: "Hello. Is someone available to assist me? I was hoping to make an inquiry."
The wayward jedi knight emerged from the crowd with a hushed apology to those obstructing his path, his eyes turned down to the floor before flitting back up to find the waiting attendant. With a sigh of relief, he adjusted his rucksack to a more comfortable position over his shoulder; his only belongings: his lightsaber, a stowed blaster pistol, and a scarred vibroblade strapped against the leather pack. He wore simple farmer's clothes, with the most expense spared to his stitched boots, though still modest and primitive in make. Most memorable, perhaps, was the sleek grey poncho he wore to cover most of it; Rebellion era tailoring, with many pockets and attachment systems reminiscent of wartime uniform. Stains of green and brown, of mud and grass, had weathered the once well made garment—telling a tale of much time spent away from the cleanly infrastructure of the civilized galaxy.
The temple attendant's eyes were lowered to her holopad as she waited for the knight. "Would you like me to walk more slowly, sir knight?"
Noone managed a subtle smirk, and a wave of the hand as he returned to her side. "No." The Anzat crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the learners gathered in the halls, fraternizing and sharing in kinship with one another between trainings. "Apologies. It has been some time since I've been around this many people."
"Do you find it over-stimulating?" The attendant tipped her head just slightly as she asked, once again turning on heel to direct Noone forward.
"I will adjust," Noone spoke hesitantly, picking up his step to follow her.
The attendant looked up from her datapad just in time to see Noone sink further into himself. His longing did not require the force to sense. "The access pad here will allow you to call for assistance. An attendant will arrive within a few hours to alert you when it is mealtime."
Noone made no response... No movement.
She reached out and rest her hand upon his shoulder, steadying him for a moment and causing him to blink free of his thousand yard stare. His eyes found hers, waiting to meet his gaze with a look of reassurance. "May the force be with you."
Noone nodded in return, his stare gliding back toward the open door to his unit as the attendant cut around him to return to her duties.
The room chimed with that soft thrum of habitat machinery. Deep humming droned in through the walls as he spent his first hour in meditation, focusing past the sound even as it crowded around him. His eyes drifted open to take in the vast emptiness of stars beyond the large window comprising one full wall of the room. His irises, fierce and alien, trembled in their sockets as he suddenly felt a great pressure beyond that instilled in him by the oppressive feeling technology built around him. A trembling hand rose from his lap to swipe through his charcoal curls, grown long and wild since the last time he had access to grooming. Noone drew in a deep breath as he calmed the storm of thoughts rolling in over his mind. Guilt... Regret... Anger... Sadness... Washing over him like a gentle tide... He allowed them in, letting himself be conjoined with his feelings, breathing deep of them... He exhaled slowly... His gaze sharpened to focus.
Hunger was setting in.
A second journey into the halls of the Brighthome, but not to the Mess Halls. Finding the Infirmary Wing was easy enough given the accessibility of the temple, which was one greatly redeeming quality, in his opinion. With primary training sessions underway, the halls were also much easier to wander, making his trip all the less anxiety-inducing. When he found the signature sterile white walls of medical facilities, he approached the first droid and or healer who appeared openly available, posing a soft-spoken question: "Hello. Is someone available to assist me? I was hoping to make an inquiry."
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