Ask The First Step

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal walked down the ancient halls of the Yavin temple, making his way toward his own quarters slash office. When he'd told Crix he had a room arranged for him, what he meant was a room near his own but completely separate, so Hannibal was easy to get to but he had plenty of his own privacy. To that end the young Zabrak's room was literally across the hall and all to himself, and they spoke regularly in passing or whenever Crix had something to ask or say. The boy's teacher was available without being intrusive, which was the way Hannibal preferred it to be.

A student should be guided, not forced down a particular path or outright abandoned when they didn't follow in the teacher's exact footsteps. The young master had never officially taken a padawan his entire career, instead teachings snippets of other. Nara was the longest regular student, followed up by Byron, but neither were actually tied to Hannibal himself. Crix was the first, which meant Hannibal intended to go all in and teach him everything he could. Even the hard and personal things. He rarely spoke of his own personal beliefs on the Force or the Jedi, the way he interpreted the code, or the struggles he'd gone through. Even close friend basically had to pry those things out of him. But Crix?

He was going to get the full experience. Hannibal had made that decision when he took him under his wing.

The young Master stepped before Crix's room door, knocked three times, and then stepped back to wait. It was relatively early, but waking up early wasn't exactly unusual with Hannibal's schedule, so who knows? Not that today was a physical training day exclusively. They had something much more involved to get to.

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Crix didn’t do an awful lot of sleeping in the quarters that Hannibal had arranged for him as part of being his apprentice… wait, “padawan”. Half of that was because he often spent as much of his waking life as he could tinkering with droids and other things. Typically if someone were to drop by unannounced they would find him elbow-deep inside a droid messing around with something internal that would produce barely any change.

The other half of the reason he didn’t do an awful lot of sleeping? Nightmares.

Which led to an insomnia that he sought to cure through more tinkering and more hard work. Sometimes it worked and he got really immersed in a project and he forgot his worries for a time – other times he would end up breaking what he was trying to fix and it would all come crashing down and he’d be forced to focus entirely on his feelings. On making sure that he was ‘mindful’ of them and processing them so he could chuck them the hell out of his head.

This time he was tinkering but not on a droid, instead he was tinkering delicately with something that meant an awful lot more to him than any droid. He had carved up his mother’s blaster rifle and used it’s casing and some of it’s components to create what he had been talking about making for some time; a lightsaber. He was busy filing down some of the more awkward edges when someone knocked at his door.

Crix paused in his work and closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force to feel the person beyond the door.

… the first high performance speeder engine he had ever seen up close, idling with more power than any of the bikes had ever had even when screaming at full throttle. A power restrained by the choice made not to run wild with it…

He smiled a little bit, opening his eyes and calling out loudly.

“It’s open Hans!”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

With a press of a button the door slid open and the young master stepped inside, eyes drawn to the things his student was working on. His brows furrowed slightly when they moved to his face, noting the tiredness that lay behind the cheery determination and casual air. It reminded Hannibal unhappily of himself.

"Workin' on a hilt I see," he commented breezily, walking up and sitting nearby in some chair. He examined the hilt from where he was, looking over the little details. Hannibal was more than a little familiar with the working of machines, another thing the two of them shared, although he liked to think he was the better pilot. Sometimes Crix made Hans wonder how he managed to drive a bolt with a hydrospanner without it catching on fire.

"Good choice of materials." The young master leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, fingers tip-tapping against his leg in thought. What he'd come to bring up was kind of a delicate one, but he didn't particularly feel like beating around the bush about it. It was important it be spoken of and agreed upon, and Hannibal would like him to go through with it before they went to beyond the more basic levels of his training.

"So. How do you feel about therapy?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Hans was good at not being too invasive but sometimes he came along at times that meant Crix was going to have to talk about things he'd really rather... not. He probably would say something about how the Living Force guided him to arrive at just the right moment. The right moment to either be a help or a giant pain in Crix's arse which was kind of something he liked about the guy.

His grip on the hilt tightened ever so slightly and he tried not to give in to his instinct to try and hide it. It was going to be a crucial part of his life going forward so he couldn't be precious about who saw it. So he kept it out, tapping a finger against it lightly.

"Yeah... been working on it for awhile."

He chuckled a little bit.

"I hope she ah... doesn't mind." he said with a thin smile, gesturing to the components of his mom's rifle that weren't actually being used as part of the saber hilt, "Figured it was better than carrying around a blaster rifle but still, you know... hers."

Crix looked away, slightly awkward, and started fixing a bolt on the saber. It didn't need fixing and both of them knew it but he needed a distance between the fact that he'd brought up his mom. He and Hans had a light and airy kind of relationship and he was... kind of afraid he might bring it down if he openly lingered on his mom.

Not that she was ever, truly, far from his thoughts.

Therapy?!

His eyes widened for a moment and his right hand shook slightly before he forced it back under his control. It was getting better but it was still present and that was half the issue. Crix coughed slightly and smiled a little at Hans.

"Therapy is good." he gave his opinion with a little chuckle, "Some Rangers got it after some tough missions. My mom taught me that anyone who thinks less of someone because they wanted help with something as delicate as their head? Is a shrak-spitting shiteheel."

Avoiding the true question like a boss.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

The Jedi gave Crix a knowing look when he gestured toward the remains of the rifle,

"She can always get another rifle. You only have one of hers," he replied softly, approving of the choice. He honestly had no idea if Trys would approve of how the weapon was repurposed, but at the very least she could use it as an excuse to replace it with something that wasn't complete garbage. If she ever woke up.

Hannibal casually looked out the window while Crix fiddled with something on the saber, giving him a bit of a reprieve from direct scrutiny. It was a silent understanding between the two of them, that Crix's teacher would usually give him the time and space he needed to put his thoughts in order without pressure. The young master also tended to keep the very personal things, his spirituality and his family, quietly to himself. That distance couldn't remain for much longer, however. Not with Crix at least.

He noticed Crix's reactions but gave no indication of such, instead watching a pair of butterflies flittering through the early morning sunlight. The young man's opinion seemed positive, but he was also avoiding the meaning behind the question if not the question itself. Green eyes glanced down at his own hand, scarred and tattooed, and he remembered the way his hands would shake.

"I'd like to introduce you to my therapist. She's a good one."

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

His mother? Get another rifle?

He almost laughed a little bit at the very idea – chances were better that his mom would choose the exact same make and model again if given the choice. She had never really been fussy about what weapons she used before, just so long as they worked. His mom was skilled enough that having an older blaster didn’t mean anything.

“Knowing her she’ll pick another off the rack.” He joked back with a sly grin, “Probably something standard issue Ranger-wise.”

Crix might have enjoyed tinkering with technology but his mom had always been more straight forward than him. Thinking about her, about how she used to be, never failed to warm his hearts again. Sometimes it felt like she was never going to recover but whenever he thought about that he always thought about how she was before.

That dumb little side-smirk she always had when he’d done something stupid and funny; the one that he knew meant she was only resisting laughing because she knew her smirk wound him up worse than a laugh ever could.

His right hand was tapping a pattern on the desk without his input and he could see it was because it was shaking. This time he didn’t bother trying to reassert control, instead just staring at his shaking hand for a long moment.

“T-trying to set me up with your Therapist, Hans?” he managed a tired laugh, “Hope she knows I’m not a cheap date!”

His right hand was still shaking until he closed it, slowly, into a loose fist. Crix just stared at it for a long moment before speaking softly.

“… do I have to?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal was under the distinct impression that Ranger standard issue was whatever they could find in the basement, but Crix did have a point. Trys didn't seem terribly fussy about what specific gun she used so long as it did gun things. He shrugged off thoughts of the small armoury he had sitting somewhere in his ship and moved on.

"No, y'don't," the Jedi answered simply, turning to look at Crix again. He raised his left in front of him toward the Zabrak and held it horizontally. It was covered in tattoos and coloured in scars, its owner no stranger to tough situations, but notably it was quite still. "But it's probably a good idea. My hands used to shake too." His hand dropped back down his lap.

"I want to move your training forward, but there's only so much Jedi techniques can do after the fact. Therapy is tough stuff, but Jedi stuff is tougher without handlin' what's bouncin' around your head." Hannibal smiled with the weight of personal experience. He still went to see her regularly, in fact. Some in the Order would prefer people just magically 'let things go', but people who didn't have their heads so far up their asses understood it's not that simple.

"There'll be ice cream. Does that help?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

He wasn’t looking for a bribe of ice cream or even the camaraderie that came from sharing something like this with Hans. The only reason Crix asked if he got a choice in whether or not he had to go to therapy was to check on that alone. Did he have a choice or was he being told to go by his Master without the option to say no?

That was the only thing he needed to know.

Knowing that he wasn’t the only person to have said these kinds of thoughts, the same kind of physical weakness that came from the mind… helped. It wasn’t something he needed but he would be the first to say that it helped knowing that Hans had had the same issues and that he had overcome them. He doubted he would have suggested therapy if it hadn’t helped him with that, and more, in the past.

Despite his own mental reassurances he bouncing his right leg, quick and with a rhythm that only he could hear. The beating of both of his hearts, going ten to the dozen.

After listening to his master for a few more moments, Crix smiled a little bit.

“Karking hate ice cream.” He joked weakly, “Make it a coffee and it’s a deal. Much better than tea, really.”

He nodded once more, becoming less jovial as he added, to clarify.

“I’ll go.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal nodded in return. "Good to hear. How d'you feel about Naboo?" he asked and moved to stand, placing a hand gently on Crix's shoulder. "'Cause that's where we're going. Today." He turned to leave and then stopped in the doorway, turning back around.

"Uh, not for therapy right away. Teachin' 'n' stuff. Y'made that hilt after all, yeah?" Hannibal flashed a grin and then left the room behind to pack some of the things in his office for the trip.

Until recently, much of Crix's training regimen was physical conditioning and connecting to the Force by essentially forcing him to rely on instinct. Learning to recognize what parts of his intuition were the Force passing along hints and which were purely biological responses. Hypothetically this would eventually sharpen his instincts similar to how Hannibal's were, or at least the young Master hoped so. Much of his method was figured out through trial and error to adapt to how he saw the Force, so translating it into actual lessons was a challenge.

But hey, he might as well pass it on to someone, right? Crix didn't seem the type to take well to the overtly spiritual methods, anyway.

Hannibal would wait for Crix in front of his yacht, looking off into the trees of Yavin and slowly burning through a cigarra.

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Naboo? How did he feel about Naboo?

Might as well be asking him how he felt about living on Korriban or Illum because Crix had no idea how he felt about Naboo – he’d never been. The only experience he had ever had with Naboo had been reading up on the history of the Clone Wars and Emperor Palpatine. It had been dry reading, oddly enough, so his only sense of Naboo was that it was full of history but otherwise kind of boring so he just shrugged.

“No opinions.” He admitted with a chuckle, “Guess I’ll be getting that chance to form some though. They never said it at the front desk but ‘see the Galaxy’ is part of the Jedi recruitment pitch isn’t it?”

Nodding to his Master, Crix clipped his lightsaber hilt to his belt and patted the pouch on his belt where the kyber crystal he had been given was resting. He hadn’t bonded with it yet but he kept it close regardless, wanting to make sure he had everything he needed in case he needed to actually start using his lightsaber.

Scooter, his astromech droid, beeped at him and Crix rolled his eyes.

“Alright you can come with Scooter – just don’t start any fights.”

Like the time he’d stolen Crix’s blaster and ran around the Temple trying to stun people – Scooter was a surly droid by nature and only seemed to give a damn about Crix. Probably why no one had tried to repair the droid save for Crix himself. He went along to the hanger, staring at the ship for a moment before looking at Hans.

“Of course you have a yacht.” He deadpanned, “Because of course you do.”

It was Hans – it didn’t need any more explaining past that.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

The young Master shrugged at Crix, grinning all the while. He used to have a much less showy ship, but the Catspaw was handed down by his mother, so it wasn't exactly new. It'd be well used, and he figured turning it into a fireball for the Sith to deal with had been a decent burial. Better than rotting in a scrapyard somewhere, anyway.

"'Course I do. Stole it fair and square," he answered, turning back around to walk up the entrance ramp to the ship. He distinctly remembered the day he and Max had gone off to get it. The yacht had been part of the point, though really it was a convenient bonus on top of the people and cargo it'd been stuffed with. Hutts don't deserve to have nice things, and even if the Luxury 3000 was an older model, it had plenty of space to be converted into something like a flying mini-temple.

Or at least a training area.

The inside had been almost entirely redone, with some of the more open areas converted for training and practice, the supplies for which were stored off to the side. Naturally the bar and dining area was still there, though made smaller. The walls held shelves of trinkets and mementos from many worlds, some pieces of art he'd stumbled across, instruments, helmets, that sort of thing.

A flick of a hand pulled a folded training mat from the wall to cover the wood floor, spread out over a good amount of space, before he raised his comm to tell Lee and the pilot droid in the cockpit to get the ship ready for takeoff. Hannibal turned to look at Crix.

"I've taught you basic movements and stuff, but there's a reason I do everything else first, y'know. Most people don't rely on instinct s'well, but that's a lot of how a lightsaber works. Can't deflect bolts usin' your eyes."

At which point he picked up a smooth, saber-shaped stick and tossed it to him.

"You remember the basic swings, right? Do those."

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Stole it fair and square?

It probably said something about Hans that Crix immediately understood that his Master wasn’t joking and that he, also, legitimately saw no problem with the fact that he stole it. Part of Crix (that sounded suspiciously like his mother) wanted to berate Hans for having stolen something, especially something so obviously expensive, but the rest of him was just taken aback by how very ‘Hans’ the whole situation actually was.

Instead he just breathed out through his nose and muttered to himself.

“Sure when a Jedi Master steals a yacht it’s fine… but when I steal some parts for an old freighter? Suddenly the Force is out to get me… bloody karking thing…”

The yacht was rather nice, even though it looked like Hans had done his best to make the whole thing more of a flying retreat slash hotel slash training room. Looking around, he gestured for Scooter to head down to either the engines of the cockpit.

“Don’t start any fights.” He warned, frowning at the excited beeping he got in return, “ESPECIALLY if you think they deserve it!”

Blood thirsty droid…

Stepping into the training room, Crix caught the training foil without really thinking about it before swinging it a few times to test it’s weight more than anything else. With an idea of it’s weight, he adjusted his grip on the foil and started to go through some of the motions Hans had taught him, some of the forms in slow motion. He could go faster but that wasn’t the point, he was going deliberately slowly so that Hands could correct anything wrong with his stance or his movements.

Like the fact that his stance was too narrow.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal very politely pretended he hadn't heard the conversation between Crix and his droid and just decided to move on with his life. Droids were strange little things sometimes and he doubted it would cause any real trouble. Or at least he hoped so.

Crix began to go through forms, slowly like he was supposed to. The young Master took saber training seriously, not only as the one of the latter things to cover but also in terms of thoroughness. Quick training left flaws in motion and muscles poorly developed for stamina in a fight, both things that could easily result in a missed parry or underpowered block. But footwork was just as important, Hannibal's eyes flicking from how his student held the weapon to how his feet were arranged and moving.

Now, Hannibal wasn't much of a lecturer, and "your stance is too narrow" didn't actually carry much information over. He preferred demonstrative instruction over rote correction, doubtless something Crix had picked up on by now. This was why he reached out with the Force to push against Crix's upper torso, a narrow stance making for poor grounding. Generally speaking the typical response to finding oneself off balance was to adjust footing.

Hannibal picked up his own stick and moved in front of Crix, dropping into a fairly generic guard that had the more narrow footing typical of neutral. He went through a form with exaggerated slowness to demonstrate how his footwork changed, controlling his center of gravity and allowing for movement in many directions as needed.

In the background the ship began to take off, though the very smooth compensators in the yacht meant it was barely felt.

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Crix was mid-flow when Hannibal reached out with the Force to give him a little nudge. He was confident that his stance was capable of taking something like that so he just... shrak he was falling and he already knew why. Falling backwards, Crix let himself hit the mat without complaint, hitting the ground with a small thud and a grunt before pulling himself up to his feet again.

He kind of knew what he had been doing wrong but watching Hannibal's feet move through the motions helped him understand where he'd gone wrong. Crix had also learned early on that Hans didn't tolerate whining about something - he only tolerated trying to get better. Never punishing him if he genuinely couldn't do it but not shy about reminding him that he could tell when he was phoning it in.

So he watched and waited until Hans was back at the 'beginning' of the form before settling in to mirror the other Jedi. He tried to make sure he didn't focus on Hans however, wanting to focus on remembering the motions himself rather than just mirroring someone who wouldn't always be there in real life situations. As he was moving, however, he spoke up.

"So where we going?"

If he couldn't remember his motions while chatting, he wasn't going to do much good when he started learning how to actually apply the strikes and movements.

@Mr. Teatime