Sword of Shiraya
The afternoon sun warmed Lorn's face as he sat on the porch of the Porte Homestead. Here, the air smelled of freshly turned dirt and blooming wildflowers, a welcome change from the sweat filled sand of Shiraya's Rest.
He'd travelled from the mountains for the day, a brief respite from his responsibilities. His duties were… demanding, to say the least. And the weight of his own past, a tangled mess of loss and regret, often felt heavier within the compound of the Vanguard. He needed a change of scenery, a breath of fresh air, and perhaps, a little wisdom.
He'd come to see Kahne. The older Jedi was the only Master Lorn truly knew, and Lorn respected the man's experience and perspective. He hoped Kahne would offer some guidance, some insight into how he could better navigate the tumultuous waters of being a Jedi, a teacher, and, most importantly, a protector.
He wanted to be better. He needed to be better. The friends he'd made, the second chance they had given him, the glimmer of hope he had found in the faces of the young students, they deserved the best he could offer. They had pulled him from the abyss of his grief, offering him a purpose, a reason to keep fighting. He would move mountains, if necessary, to ensure their safety, to ensure that the Republic and Shiraya's Order, could persevere.
Lorn closed his eyes, tilting his face towards the sun. For a moment, he let the warmth chase away the shadows that clung to his mind. He felt a gentle breeze rustle the leaves of the nearby trees, a soothing melody that calmed the restless energy within him. He hoped Kahne would be amenable to a conversation. He had so much to ask, so much to learn. But for now, he would simply enjoy the peace of the afternoon, the quiet anticipation of a much-needed conversation, and the simple beauty of the spring day.