Falling leaves always return to their roots.

[Veritas et Lux]

"Very good! Don't lose it!"
- Misha kept her padawan on her toes. She had grown exceptionally hardened in her lightsaber form since the last sparring match she had ever had here. The two blue blades crossed and clashed with that hissing crunch of light and twisting metal sound rapidly penetrating Misha's ears over and over again. Her footsteps were mapped out in front of her like an instruction terminal guiding her in her mind. Making openings for Hamara to exploit and pointing out her own openings with light grazing slashes across her robe kept her alert- it fed her perfectionist desires to master the elegant form of dancing lights.

She was pleased with Hamara's progress, especially considering the circumstances- this was her first padawan, she was scared that she'd screw up. She herself though did quite a bit of soul searching out in the outer-rim as well. She had been cleaning up after the first tragic hutt war- the planets that were caught in the crossfire, the mercenaries with no paying overlords that would ravage villages and hit local planets up for credits, and of course the rebuilding... Kriff- the rebuilding. She couldn't help though to love every second of driving away mandolorians that decided that a small moisture farming planet was an opportunity for steady income- or the children that needed homes because their's had been burned down or demolished in republic-hutt battles. But upon immediate return she was faced with a padawan. And she truly wouldn't have had it any other way...

"Remember- control your thoughts. Don't worry about controlling your emotions, now's not the time. Just keep a sound judgement and keep calm whilst your adrenaline's drive is to push you forward.
Stay with me Hamara- keep thinking."
Taking it easy on her here made her stronger- only to push out some higher grade flourishes when she got too offensive. It kept her on that edge- hanging there a foot on the ground and the other dangling out over the large fall into the sea; her triumph, her control only a footstep away. She was getting the hang of it, she was becoming more calm and her heartbeat was slowing. She wasn't as excited and vamped up to go at the very least-
'I guess my teaching strategy is working than' she thought out to herself.

The two blue blades' clash after endless clash traversed a swaying echo through the dome- void of life, lo the two beautiful guardians of the peace- The master and the apprentice.

She was wearing a baby-blue linen sun-dress, hibiscus thinly contoured designs amongst her frilly drape- a monomyth round' lace only to end where it had just begun. She had dark brown, almost chestnut, colored hair that she loved to curl and crimp on a annual blue-moon- whereas two or three days out of the week the moon glowed a stunning blue here on Tython. The skies beautiful.
Her bouncy curls danced along as she turned and sparred a silky dark streak across a deep dark starry night, the convertible of the dome, lest they detest, opening to allow fresh air and euphoria inducing beauty.

"Hamara- Don't hold back. Heh, everything you've got!" she shouted, in attempts to bring her adrenaline back up. She would see what the day's sow had to reap. She would see what she could do under a little more.... 'Real' combat situation.

 

[Miranda]

The night air was brimmed with saturnine repose. In such late hours only the vermilion movements of waning lantern flame beckoned light against the cerulean hues of moonlight that vaulted the ancient stone floors of the training atrium. The sacrosanct corridors and foundations of the Jedi's most ancient and historical place, the monastery of Tython, swelled with a certain reticence that was rarefied in the galaxy in such turbulent times. Such silence was, as most things within the vast and omnipresent web of the Force were, transient at best.
And so like all entities transient, that silence was abruptly intruded by the distinct murmurs and drones of contacting lightsabers. The flash and bite of turquoise and azure coruscated, ebbed, burst again.
Two Jedi - Master and Padawan - danced the combative traditions of their sacred Order; with movements so fluid and mercurial, that, as they breached the stone-carved arena, met the silence and tranquility with physical impact.
"Yes...Master", one dancer was evidently not as well-versed in the archaic choreography as the other; of that tradition that had filtered down like water from teacher to student to teacher in a continuum of classical knowledge and technique. Hamara passed backwards as her instructor lunged moving into an en garde stance, and then committed herself to a passata-sotto - evading her opponent's oncoming blade by dropping her hand to the floor and lowering her body under the trajectory. Her Master lunged with her brilliant saber again and Hamara binded it with her own, attempting to force it down into a diagonally opposite line, from high to low.
"You're much too fast for me, Master...I'll never catch up", the young Padawan listened intently to her mentor's sagacious words, control your thoughts, control your thoughts, she let go of her constant assessment of her Master's profound abilities with a lightsaber. She reached out and listened with the Force. It was like the faintest echo on the edge of her hearing. But it was there. She knew it. She could feel it. She had felt it from the day she was born. It was pervasive, and infinite, and universal. The Jedi knew how to attune themselves to it. They knew, it was everything.
Hamara made a semicircular parry with her ignited saber, moving from the high line to the low line crossing the front of her body it provided an enveloping movement that attempted to trap her Master's blade. She moved with improved faculty, her senses opening up to the hum of the universe, to the room they were in, to her body, to her blade. Her lightsaber became an extension of her fiber. An extension of her very being. These were the lessons that her teacher had been attempting for the past several days.
Hamara's mahogany brown eyes lingered on her Master's face as their weapons made contact. Hamara then recovered and took the brace-ready stance of the Soresu form, the speciality of her mentor. She was learning.

Her dusky crimson robes, laced with gold outlines, shimmered in the movements between mentor and student. She still had her celestial bracelet that she had bought at the nightmarkets on Coruscant so many months ago. She wondered where Kaz'aia was now, having not seen him since she departed from the capital world. Was he still alive? Had the war claimed his life too now? What was to be his fate? What was to be her fate after her training was complete? So many questions, that could only be answered in time. She missed Coruscant somedays. Missed its vibrant and constant light, its everlasting city-song. Tython had been too quiet for her during her first few weeks. The forest world was enigmatic and always in a monastic quietude. Those nights had been sleepless, the sound of her own heartbeat in the absolute silence had kept her awake.
Hamara knew little of her current educator, Mistress Ivanovna, before coming to Tython for the first time. While she had poured through voluminous documents and records in the archives, pertaining to the history of the Order, to the history of the galaxy, she had not retained much information about her mentor. She knew though, through their intense training sessions, that her new Master had experience only garnered through adversity, hardships, and utmost devotion to the Jedi.
Hamara's life had changed so much; she was no longer that reserved and isolated girl that had wandered the nightmarkets in complete awe. She was destined to become a Jedi Knight, to be a guardian of hope and justice and peace throughout the galaxy.
Her journey along fate's eternal streams, was just beginning...

 

[Veritas et Lux]

The day had brought her new padawan progress beyond that of Misha''s record. At least the council had decided to place an easy one in her care. The sparring session would be over soon- and along with it the night.
"Stay with it, you're doing great." She managed- easily atuned to the tempo of the lights flashes brightly.

"You have progressed far-" Misha cheerfully relinquished herself a sigh, along with ending the lesson, which was symbolized by the retracting of her lightsaber. All of what was to come from now on would be her training, now that the orientation had ended and the few days she had to gain the comfy and warm feelings of fresh new life was over.

She would soon take her into the torch-lit avenues of the monastary's courtyard- a festive occcasion to greet the new padawans of this season. She was only here for a couple of days, the newest life in the monastary- however she would still be announced within the festivals main episode.
The buildings and rooms were turned into makeshift stands and carts for the night of celebration and praise. Music carried off into the night, even able to hear it from the dunes of the great beach. Baskets of fruits and urns of waters and juices lined the corners behold the exit of the oval arena expelled out Misha and Hamara. Dancers and street acts followed all the way to the temple's great wall.

"The order has a great time every year that the moon eclipses the great blackhole at the center of our galaxy- we praise the force and the new padawans of this season. Which is you, heh." She expelled a bright-eyed chuckle and pulled at Hamaras shoulder. Signaling her to lighten up a little and have fun with her-

She led towards the crowds of Jedi- this night was a marvelous occasion, whereas the silence of the temple was broken in order for a great night of celebration and praise. Socializing Jedi everywehre, whereas the more reserved masters usually stayed inside the Monastary's cantina. There were a select few of them too- acccomidating all life, for Jedi came in all shapes and sizes.
Torch and lantern light lit the night with a hallowed respect for one another and a gracious mass. Such a lucky time to join the order- Misha thought for a second. Her dark brown orbs dancing reflectivly beside Hamara.

"What for do you wish to do? We have time to burn before we retire." she asked Hamara, walking alongside with sleeve around her shoulders.

 

[Miranda]

Hamara disengaged her lightsaber and she extinguished its vibrant blade, turning into an obeisant bow - "thank you Master, you are an excellent tutor. Hopefully, given some more time I will present more of a challenge to you in the duelling ring." The young Padawan gave her mentor a convivial smile and wiped her brow with her linen sleeve. Misha had worked her hard during the spar, and she had pushed her further than their last few matches. Hamara had taken to learning the methods of 'the Way of the Mynock' with zealous appreciation.
She had never been prone to direct assault or brute force as reflected in some of the other lightsaber forms. Soresu, the 'Resilience Form', favoured her personal preference of defense and deflection while concentrating on stamina and focus to seize victory over one's opponent. It was very fortunate that this form was Master Ivanovna's field of expertise. The Council had paired the Padawan to her educator very well indeed. Though that was probably their field of expertise.
Hamara clipped her lightsaber to her belt and gathered her beige cloak from the cold floor of the atrium and was then led out through the monastery's antechambers into a central courtyard that blossomed with activity. It was something most unexpected from the usual stoic calm that was the Jedi enclave.
"Master, I find myself lost for words...", she glanced to Misha and then out across the gathering crowds of Jedi. It was a sea of multicoloured robes and alien species. A testament to the vast reach and influence of the Jedi Order.
"I'm quite hungry after burning all that energy, are there any food carts?", the 'festival' burgeoned with stalls of all fancy; large and beautiful flower arrangements, calligraphy work, arts and crafts, and books of all description. The atmosphere was piquant with perfumes mixed with cuisine smells.
She watched as two wind-dancers twirled and juggled their scimitars upon a small stage, as circus performers spat fire and trotted on lofty stilts and contorted their bodies into unimaginable postures. The festival became an entire coliseum of acts. Hamara did not know where to look next. All her senses were captivated at once by one thing or another. "I had no idea that we had such festivities, I feel honored Master...thank you for bringing me."
She lifted her head, turned her face to the warm breeze that shifted in across the forest, and tasted its sharp ochre on her lips. The moonlight's surface bellied and shimmered, a lustrous silver-blue; a membrane stretched to an exquisite opaque. The forest could be wild at times, its voices so loud on the wind in one's head that it was like standing frozen in the midst of battle. But that night, in the evening light it was pondlike. The festival had washed over it and turned it into something utterly familiar, had displayed its serenity in contrast to the purr of traditional instruments, and shifting marquees, and wafting braises, and flamboyant theatrics. It was transformed that night.
Hamara, for the first time being on Tython, felt at peace. She felt like she had found her place. She was welcomed with open arms. She was home.