The Golden Rose
A TRIAL OF THE LIGHT
Location — Naboo, Shiraya's Sanctuary, Medical Wing
Tags —
Ilias Nytrau
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers, Robes (without armourplates)
Not all days were spent off-world meeting new people, uncovering strange secrets or battling Sith. There were some centred around the art of training, of bettering oneself in both the Force and all that came with the Padawan path. Such as on this late afternoon, when the sun had begun lowering itself on the horizon, casting a warm hue over the skies above. It forged the perfect setting to get some training done on the cliffside course dotted out for Padawans and Knights alike. From the island-like cliffs to the ropes strung between them and the waterfall spilling over the nearby stones; the terrain offered enough of a challenge to keep even the most skilled Jedi sharp and entertained.
With the assistance of a training droid, Isobel had been forced to traverse the terrain whilst defending herself against its blasterfire--each time she got hit, she had to start over. Over and over again, until she finally would get it right. But that blessing had not yet arrived to greet her. Instead the young Padawan nearly made it across the gaps... If not for the bolt hitting her backside and making her fall off the cliffs. In the nick of time, she tried to grab the roughened ledges, but slipped. . . her hands scraped against the rock, leaving them bloodied as she tumbled onto a lower platform.
The journey to the medical wing was a blur, for her head rung and her hands trembled as she stumbled forth. Each step more akin to an idea than an action, if that were to make any sense. None of it did, not until she was seated on one of the beds, staring wide-eyed at the droid and force healers passing by. Their faces part a haze, and otherwise recognisable, though not by name--After all, it was not often she found herself in a place such as these, despite her inherent clumsiness.
The warmth from Isobel's face had paled, as she tried her hardest to not look upon the scabs taking shape upon her hands. Her dark curls, which one sat neatly in a braid had been loosened by her tumbling--with now a handful of strands covering her face. If one of the healers were to look upon her wounds, they would notice many small bleedings, as well as reddened blisters from her fingertips to her palm. The wounds were primarily on the surface and could almost certainly be mended easily.