Private A Trial of the Light

[Isobel Serraris]

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.

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[Ilias Nytrau]

MEDICAL WING
SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY
NABOO

When the half-Morellian Jedi Healer known as Ilias Nytrau took the denizens of an Order under his care, it was always his practice to take the time to pore through the records of the Jedi tied to the Order, a task completed expediently in his case, in the slow hours that much of Naboo slept, such that he would be enabled to tend to them better.

The other half of him being K’paur, he had a rather small need to rest, for as he understood it, the Force did much of the work in sustaining him as though it were a function alike to breathing, or the beat of his two hearts. Thus, when he walked into the examination room and saw the young Miss Serraris, his recognition of her was a blend of familiarity and newness.

And on first glance, the details of her appearance revealed much. When over nine-hundred years you reach, tending to others, maybe you too will have seen it all.

“Padawan Serraris, is it?” The small, cordial smile came along as it often did while the door shut behind him, “I am Master Nytrau. Taken a tumble, have you, Padawan? Ah, you’re far from the only one to do so; few are so sure-footed as to avoid it entirely at the outset of the Path,” he assured, slipping a glance down at the datapad he held, tapping away as he talked, “some of us became gangly as a spamel.”

His eyes had a twinkle to them, corners creasing with a little bit of humour at that thought as he returned his gaze to the Padawan; in shooting towards 200 centimetres in his youth, he had been the greatest spamel of his entire cohort, in the Coruscant Temple.

“Now, there is no danger to your condition, so long as it is treated in some manner,” disinfection and the application of bandages, or simply laying on a bacta patch was the common method when a healer was unavailable, “so I shall offer you a choice: I heal you fully and send you on your way, or should you wish it, I will guide you in how to mend some of these rather small wounds of yours with your own strength in the Force.”

It was a skill he sought to impart to any Jedi that had even a minor capacity for it. The more of them that could adopt the practice of healing by any degree, the greater the availability of care became for all, even if all they could do was heal their own body. An important stopgap.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

Location — Naboo, Shiraya's Sanctuary, Medical Wing
Tags — Ilias Nytrau
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers, Robes (without armourplates)

The moment the K'Paur came into sight, her eyes widened in certain shock, her neck almost hurt to look up at the tall Jedi Master. To think there were humans (or near-humans) who could grow to such a height. Her family had never been graced with that blessing, yes they were always shorter and nimbler than most, but never strong, or capable of looking over most crowds. Whilst his height was noteworthy on its own, his face was not entirely an unfamiliar one, but she doubted they had officially crossed paths before in the Order--though she could very well be mistaken on that, her mind was still fuzzy from the blunder.

"It is... Master Jedi," She inclined her head in a respectful greeting, before listening carefully to his words. Master Nytrau. . . Was he not one of the older masters in the enclave? Though asking about it may not be the nicest course of action toward a man that is here to heal her wounds. Or so she thought. A Spamel? The word, or creature was unknown to her, but she laughed softly at the light humour in his voice. "To say this was my first time would be a lie as well. It is almost in my routine to visit the infirmary." She added, biting her lip afterward--having been compared to a Shaak before, mostly for her oblivious mind, taking a tumble was almost a second nature.

When he inspected the scrapes, Isobel sat quietly, swinging her legs back and forth to keep herself busy. The wounds were minor at best and foolish at most, yet they still burned when touched, and the blisters were vile, leaving her hand tingling. "I would hope so, it did not feel like a life-threatening injury." A soft giggle escaped her dried lips, the act bringing a light colour to her face again. It was a petty attempt to find the light of the situation, in spite of the faint aches that came and went. It felt like ebb and flow, with tides of pain followed by tides of calm, with no prediction as to where one faded and the other took its place.

The offer came as a surprise, fading her grin in a heartbeat. Force Healing was an intricate technique, part of her doubted that she may comprehend it, let alone utilise it to mend her wounds. Though to dismiss such a chance for nought was to throw fate out of the window itself. "To learn Force Healing. . ." She repeated, as if to come to terms with what the Jedi Master had offered. "I am not sure if I can, but I am willing to try." The Padawan inclined her head, drawing her gaze back to the blistered hands.

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