From a Certain Point of View

[Fyston]

The Temple on Dantooine had one of the worst-stocked bars in the galaxy in that it did not have a bar. Instead, Celtar Xyton sat at one of the many tables in the relatively empty mess hall, a mixer in one hand and a cup in the other. In front of him were eight or nine different types of alcohol, each used to make one of Celtar's favorite drinks. As he poured the drink, he enjoyed the random scent as the various aromas wafted up at him. What he enjoyed even more, however, was the smoothness and overall taste of the drink as it made its way from the cup, into his mouth, and finally into his stomach.

He hated Dantooine. He hated the Peacekeeper. He hated anywhere that wasn't his quarters or a bar and only because they served the same purposes. Nobody here understood. Nobody here knew anything about the real world. Everything was all about training, all about preparation for something that would not come unless drawn out. To Celtar, everyone here was so dull, so naive, so stupid. Most Jedi had this stick up their rear that kept them from being flexible, from not acting holier-than-thou. Celtar had faced it enough since Tython. Even Valen tried too hard, at times, and his promotion to Grandmaster had him acting strange, at least compared to the Valen that Celtar had known since he was an Initiate.

In order to keep himself from such a downward spiral, Celtar did what he always did when he began that dive: took another drink. And another. And another. He'd taken so many and had had so many drinks that the familiar embrace of sleep welcomed the Jedi and the Knight ceded his consciousness in exchange for none of the visions that had plagued him when he was sober. In full view of anyone who were to enter, the Knight fell asleep on the table in the middle of a plethora of bottles, his arm the only thing separating his head from the metal table.

@Nysophir

 

[Nysophir]

Sura walked towards the table, uncertain. She had received the notification this morning; the initiate hadn't even known the former general was alive. Not that he seemed to be currently. The drunk's aura was powerful, but extremely rough around the edges. He was unconscious for the moment, which gave her time to prepare. It had been a while since she had an actual conversation. She quietly sat down across the table from the slumped over human and tapped him on the shoulder. "Master Xyton?"

 

[Fyston]

The sound of footsteps against a metal floor disturbed the former General, though he remained completely still and, instead, stretched out through the Force. He felt the presence of a single Initiate and, inside his mind, frowned. That meant it wasn't mealtime, though he held hope onto the fact that the Initiate was new and lost. Celtar was in the process of thinking up a plan when he felt a tap on his shoulder and heard the younger Jedi call his name.

The Knight sat up and glared over at the Initiate, a Miralukan female. "The training rooms are somewhere else, the meditation chambers are somewhere else, the medbay is somewhere else, lunch isn't for a few hours, and the bar doesn't exist." His words were slurred and he pointed in a random direction every time he mentioned a different area. "If you find the bar, though, let me know because I'd love to get a drink. Not with you or anyone else, just by myself."

Celtar put his head back on his folded arms and attempted to go back to sleep, though the continuing presence of the younger Jedi was beginning to annoy him. Without opening his eyes or moving his head, the Knight spoke one last time. "Is there something I can -burp- do for you since you're still here?"

 

[Nysophir]

Sura tried to bury the quickly rising feelings of disappointment. She couldn't even rest her hands on the table, the human and his bottles left no room. This broken man was nothing like Master Loric, why had the order seen fit to charge him with finishing her training? She sat still through the drunken tirade, taking a deep breath and calling back to her meditation exercises. This was going to be a challenge.

"My name is Sura Thrain. I have been assigned as your apprentice to finish my studies after the death of my former master."

 

[Fyston]

When the Initiate finished speaking, Celtar raised his head and glared once more at the woman. Instead of being able to bore his gaze into her eyes, however, he settled for the piece of cloth that draped in front of them. The Knight sighed and looked longingly towards the sky, mouthing the words "why me" and reaching for his cup. After a quick swig or four, the Knight burped again and glanced down at his datapad, which had chirped with notification of a new message.

It took him no time at all to see who had sent it and, given that information, decided that he didn't even need to read the message to understand its intent. It was an affirmation, from the only person who seemingly enjoyed torturing him, that this was beyond discussion. "You wanna -burp- know why I don't take students? They're -burp- stupid. Who says you can't -burp- finish your studies by yourself? I'd LOVE that option. But no, Valen says I have to train you." The Knight stood, bumping into the table and stumbling somewhat as he did so. "Instead of leaving well enough alone, he has to assign me a student to 'teach me a lesson.'" As the Knight said the last four words, he adopted a clearly mimicking voice and made a couple of rude gestures. "People die all the time, Initiate," continued the Knight, seemingly spitting the last word as if it were venom. "Who cares about your -burp- Master? Trust me, you don't want to be put with me. I've killed more people, more -burp- Jedi, than most Sith. Go back to Valen, tell him I've died or some osik, and find -burp- someone who won't get you killed."

 

[Nysophir]

Sura's mouth as a thin line, her knuckles white as she tightly gripped the armrests of her chair. This man's dismissal of her master's death was infuriating, only surpassed by the condescension directed at her. She took a breath. "I will do no such thing. What I will do is train with you, though what you'd teach me beside self pity and how to destroy my own liver I am currently unsure, and eventually become a knight to make my master proud. And while his death was ultimately insignificant in galactic terms, I do care deeply that he is gone so I would appreciate toning down your score keeping of personal tragedy. Now can we get started? I've packed my things."

 

[Fyston]

The look of pure disinterest on Celtar's face as the Initiate continued to talk and bore him betrayed any attempt for the Knight to hide his true feelings, though Celtar didn't worry about hiding what he thought. In spite of what she said, he took a big gulp from his cup, finishing the drink before throwing the glass cup at the nearest wall. As it contacted the wall, it shattered, sending glass shards everywhere. "You, you, you think I care what you think? Sulu, Suru, Subaru, whatever your -burp- name is? The day I take orders from an -burp- Initiate is the day I know I've lost control. People die, Sauron, it's the waaayyyy the world goes. And besides, drinking is fun and nobody is as fun as dulling my senses to make the world more tolerable." As the Knight finished, he pulled another flask from his belt and took a swig.

"You know what, Su-Sy-whatever your name is, you want to make your old, rotting in the -burp- ground, Master proud? Show me what you know. Show me that you deserve to make it to -burp- Knighthood. You don't need to pack your things, we'll have your test right here. You do well enough and I'll take you on adventures and show you that the Galaxy is osik and that nothing you do matters." The Knight put extra emphasis, extra venom into the word 'nothing.' "I'll let you learn that nothing goes your way and that, above all, you will get people killed." The Knight moved a few tables, giving them a sizeable amount of room with which to work. He drew his crossguard lightsaber and ignited it in the opening stance of Form X, the deep blue blade emanating across the room. He made sure to lower the power to a non-lethal setting, though continued to glare at the Padawan as he took another sip from his flask.