Calmax Corint
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2017
- Messages
- 26
- Reaction score
- 14
Jedi Temple | Jedha City| 0800 Local Time
Fear never died.
At least, that was how it seemed to Cal. When he'd been a child, he'd imagined that adults felt no fear at all. When he'd become an adult himself, he'd still thought that the Jedi, at least, would be free from it. But they weren't.
He wasn't.
Even in that moment, standing on the temple terrace bathed in morning light, he could still feel its presence. It was quiet, subdued, but definitely there, lurking in the pit of his stomach. More fears than he'd like to count, wrapped up and bound together. But this morning, one in particular troubled him most.
The fear that it wouldn't be enough. That everything they were doing, that he was doing, would be worth nothing in the end.
Cal had spent the last two hours breaking bread with a number of his fellow Jedi; a small but diverse group, all passing through Jedha for different reasons. Many of them brought bad news from the further reaches of the galaxy, where the lunacy of the Exiles and the greed and sedition of the Cartel were tearing things apart. It was difficult to hear and even harder to know what to do about it.
Cal desperately wanted to help, wanted to be the one to drive their countermoves, but few of his Jedi brethren gave him the chance. He was young and they were old, he a scholar and an envoy, they warriors and veterans. Two had fought at Tython, one had been at Ilum. Cal would have given his right arm for the chance to learn from them and earn their respect, but most were martial-minded Jedi, already off to their next skirmish or conflict.
All had warned him that his books and plans would only go so far - ultimately it came down to winning the fight.
He wasn't sure what he made of that. Certainly defeating the enemy in combat was sometimes the only option, but he didn't relish the prospect. It seemed obvious to him that there was so much more to fixing the galaxy than crossing blades with their enemies.
A bird flew low overhead, bringing him back from his thoughts. Picking up his datapad, he carried on reading where he'd left off.