Clearing the Path

[Meeristali Peradun]

LOCATION​

Tython​

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His training had been going at something of a relaxed pace, which was strange to him. He had too much spare time on his hands, and while he had been able to make good use of it, he did not feel useful, and it was more than mere idleness that was getting under his skin. Due to his not being involved, the matter of the Republic-One Sith war compounded this, and it made him feel a guilt that was not unlike the one he supposed a soldier that had abandoned his post for no good reason might have felt. That was a situation he could in some way identify with, having been a soldier for the approximately ten years of his life prior to his joining the Jedi, even though he had been involuntarily discharged for ultimately petty reasons. He held no ill will to his former superiors, and the ways of that life were still embedded deep within him - you could take the soldier out of the army, but you could never take the army out of the soldier.

After Teta, however, things had grown quiet. There were no further rumblings of battle, a disquiet which put him slightly on edge, but he would seek to use the time wisely such that by the time the next attack brought on by either side of the conflict arrived, he would be prepared to such an extent as to be able to be more than merely useful. He knew how to fight... but he simply lacked adequate tools to fight with, simply because the conflict between users of the Force was a starkly different animal from what he was used to. It was the joke of 'bringing a knife to a gun fight' turned inside-out.

Now, what was it that the Felacatian did when faced with the need to change something? He sought knowledge, and while the library on Tython paled in comparison to other venues of knowledge, it was still more than sufficient for his needs, and he was a frequent visitor. Because of it, he often had a fair idea about the skills he picked up from his instructors before discussing them or putting them into practice. Also, this research often lead him to other considerations, and it was in this way that he formed his ideas as to what the next steps might be in his growth... and several questions to go along with it. Now there was only the matter of discussing it with his master, one [member="Michael Sardun"], a man with whom he had more in common than he hoped to have with any master here. It was a sort of blessing, if one believed in such things.

So it was on a warm Benduday at mid-day that Meeristal Peradun sat in the shade of fully-leafed tree a fair distance away from the temple, with a soft cooler of beverages at his side, and the future on his mind, waiting for Sardun to arrive.

 

[Arage Bao]

A man is to be judged by his actions, not his vocal capacities. This was one of the many lines his General slash Father had always instilled upon him, it was a virtue Michael had tried to live by, he had tried to own up to the Legacy that his father had left him. The Legacy of a Legend, with his father being one of the youngest High Generals appointed ever, acquaintance to the then-ruling Supreme Counselor, first through the gates of Metalorn et cetera, et cetera. The man had never made Sardun feel inferior though, had always tried to do right by his son.

Which in the grand scheme of things worked out pretty well, even though his consistent departures to quench that fire or this one made it hard to properly relate to the man and then of course… he died. First man through the gates had sacrificed his life to defend some locals, a fitting end for the man Attacus Sardun had inspired his son to be. Across the years, Sardun had learned to live and live right, he liked to think that he had done right by his ser name.

Had done right to the Legacy of the Sardun family, and yet… sometimes he wondered. Wondered if things couldn’t have been done better, cleaner and with less casualties, his ratio knew that it was an useless topic to tread upon and yet his conscious would never leave him alone. Such was the qualms of a righteous man.

One man, [member="Meeristali Peradun"], constantly filled him with pride, even if he didn’t always voiced it out loud. A soldier true and true, Stali knew his responsibilities and knew them well. Sardun wished he could be there more for the man, to guide him more… teach him as a good Master should. Yet, he constantly found himself away, his responsibilities as the Battlemaster and recently appointed Master of Reassignment… it made things hard.

Ironically the two Sarduns were more alike in this regard than even Michael realized.

Stali had asked for his presence and he was happy to give it to him. Sometimes a man needed advice, needed to hear some words to ease his mind, Sardun didn’t know what Stali wished of him, but he would try to give it regardless.

Footsteps heralded his arrival, with a soft telepathic nudge to punctuate that his Master had arrived.

“Stali.” Michael simply said when he had closed the distance. ‘Enjoying a sunny and warm day in the fields, how… relaxed of you.’ A wink and a smile accompanied the tongue-in-cheek remark, to show that no offence was meant and that it was not in fact a rebuke.

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

The mental nudging drew his eyes up and away from the blade of grass he'd been idly fiddling with, to settle on the approaching Sardun. They did not see one another as often as one might expect of a Master and Padawan, but it was what it was - the natures of both men allowed for the intermittent contact to have little effect on what needed to be done. No matter what, they both still did what was necessary. Even so, there were some things the Felacatian couldn't do on his own, and that was the dispensation of advice on the specifics of his Jedi path. [member="Michael Sardun"] would hopefully - and ideally - be able to help.

The remark pulled a bemused smile onto his face, and he motioned to the space in the grass approximately next to him, around the bend of the broad trunk of the tree. There was more than enough room, as this seemed to be the largest tree in the area, possibly thousands of years old, if not longer.

"How..." he paused a scant half-a-second, wrestling his expression down to something calm, "...wise of you to see the virtue of relaxation by coming, Master Sardun."

He laid a hand on the soft cooler, tail settling in his lap, and orange eyes following Sardun wherever he decided to sit

"I brought some cold bottles if you're interested."