Define Yourself

[Placeholder 04]

"Yes, I'd rather avoid another run in with Sith equivalent of a Uxi beast." Cyril intoned as he followed her up the ramp. The ship was a simple thing. Its interior was matte black along the floors and a military silvers along the walls. The cargo bay was filled with various nick-knacks and a few terminals lined one of its corners. A wooden table was haphazardly placed in the dead center of the room with three plastic chairs around it. A deck of sabacc playing cards was strewn out over the table, and judging by the amount of dust coating the thing, no one had sat there in quite some time.

On the far side of the hold was a sofa aligned so that it had full view of a flat holo-vision welded into the adjacent wall. Past the cargo hold was the kitchen, a paltry thing, and a small room that served as a miniature armory. It was filled with various weapons of all kinds and the adjoining ammunition.

The sweet smell of scented roses filled the air. If one were to pay attention, they might smell the distinct scent of oil on the edge of it.

"You'll have to forgive the smell. If I didn't use the fresheners the whole ship would smell like a truck stop." Cyril ran his fingers over the dusty table and strolled on down the hall. The his left were three adjacent rooms -- likely bedrooms -- and at the end lay the cockpit. He slipped into the pilot's chair with practiced ease.

"How good of a pilot are you?" The ship began the hum as its primary reactor came to life.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

'Smells better than the temple,' Cazoa smiled. She slid in the co pilot chair, relaxing into the soft fabric. 'As for my piloting...I get by.'

She laughed softly as she began flipping switches preparing the ship for flight. Her ability to pilot was decent, though in an aerial battle, she would doubt her ability to come out on top. Her father had taught her most of what she knew, and usually on most jobs she had taken since his death, she would opt for someone else to fly in their own vessel. She hadn't had a serious accident to date, so she mustn't have been too bad.

Cazoa punched in the coordinates for Naboo. The flight route generated, indicating a day of travel. A day of sleep. Cazoa's body ached as she rested back into the chair. She longed for a decent bed to sleep in instead of the dusty floors she had been accustomed to for the past few months.

Slowly, the ship began to ascend. She watched the temple in the distance slowly become smaller and smaller. She reveled in the fact that the hot sun would no longer burn her orange, dust caked skin, but she almost felt a sadness to be leaving. After all, it was the place where she had accepted herself, and the place where destiny had bought her and set her on the correct path. Again, she felt the tugs, telling her to stay, telling her that the power would be greater, if she did. A part of her promised that one day she would return, perhaps as Cyril had done, in times when she would need guidance from such a place, but for now, she carried the energy of the Moon within her, whether it was the Dark Side or not, it would always be there, where ever destiny took her. It comforted her.

Soon, they had ascended out of the atmosphere and were at light-speed to Naboo. She felt strange but she put it down to being exhausted. Cazoa looked down at her fingers as they flicked various switches - they were caked in dust and dirt. Once the ship was on course, Cazoa excused herself to the bathroom. She barely recognised herself in the mirror - dust caked her skin, grime and sweat had matted her hair, her clothes were torn, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

'Ugh,' she whispered.

She searched the small bathroom for necessities for a shower, but it was sparse. She would at least need clothes, and so she left the bathroom, and began to scour one of the bedrooms for something that she could wear. The cupboards were full of various clothes belonging to Cyril. Most were far too big, but she settled on a grey t-shirt, and soft beige pants which would have to be rolled up on the legs. Satisfied, she headed back to the bathroom, letting her eyes wander over all that Cyril owned.
Once she had finished showering, Cazoa dressed, and then headed back to the cockpit.

'I hope you don't mind,' she said, sliding back into the co-pilot chair. 'I borrowed some clothes. What do you think?' She giggled as she pulled at the oversized t-shirt. 'Perhaps on Naboo, I might have the chance to fetch some clothes that fit.'

She yawned and leaned back into the chair. She began to comb her fingers through her wet hair, in hopes of taming it. Naboo. She was looking forward to seeing green.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

It had been almost a year since he'd set foot upon Naboo. The planet of his birth was always far away, and he'd made a point to keep it that way. It reminded him far too much of the family he had lost. It was difficult to look upon the world that his mother had once ruled and know that she was long gone. Then came the issue of his younger sisters -- another problem all together. He pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed up from his seat once they had taken off.

The ship could essentially fly itself. He let the flight computer guide them home and took to his private quarters. The moment of quiet was unsettling. It was the first time he'd really had a moment of privacy from Cazoa since meeting her. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. Shrugging, he discarded his ruined clothing and washed himself properly.

There had been so much dirt and grime clinging to his skin that he had forgotten it was there. Being free of the detritus of the moon was liberating. He breathed a heavy sigh as he strolled out of his private shower and donned a simple pair of pajama pants embroidered with little red circles and drew one of his cloaks about him. He didn't bother with a shirt, preferring to let the cool air seep over his skin.

He had settled back into his chair by the time Cazoa returned.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe you could usher in a new style trend once we arrive. Certainly better than those frily headresses they wear." Cyril laughed. He decided he rather liked seeing Cazoa in her relaxed state. Things felt better in a way. More natural -- normal. He reached out to pull on the hem of her shirt. "Yeah, you'd be the newest star of Theed."

He shook his head as he turned to watch the starts fly past.

A few hours later and the shuttle was beginning to breach Naboo's atmosphere. The descent was not particularly rough. Bypassing normal regulations, Cyril had flown straight toward his mother's lakeside estate. It was his by right, though it had gone unpopulated for two years now. Fortunately the Mason droids remained hard at work keeping the home fit and well.

The shuttle hissed as it settled down on the landing pad outside the home.

"Well," Cyril sighed, "Welcome to Naboo."

He pushed up from his seat and drew a simple t-shirt over his shoulders, discarding the cloak for the moment. A host of small droids had emerged from the home to greet them. At their head was a silver protocol droid with the Grayson family crest drawn onto its shoulder.

"Medee," Cyril smiled and bowed his head, "Good to see you again."

"Oh, Master Cyril, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you so well!" Meedee cooed. The droids around him -- an assortment of astromechs and other smaller models -- beeped in agreement. Cyril found himself grinning. "Yes, I'm sorry I've been out of contact. Jedi business you know. This is--"

"Oh, how lovely!" Meedee hobbled up to Cazoa, his yellow photoreceptors blinking as he took her in. "You've finally taken a bride? You're mother would be so pleased! What may I call you mistress?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Beeping from the flight dash woke Cazoa from her sleep. They had arrived at Naboo. She could feel the tension within Cyril as the ship began to descend through the planet's atmosphere. Her prior concerns of him returning to his home world had been correct, but she did not speak on them. Through the cockpit glass, Cazoa watched Naboo unfurl before her. She had seen many garden planets, but none quite as captivating as this, especially after seeing nothing but orange dust for months.

The land was all different shades of lush greenery. Mountains sprawled in the distance, and at the foot of them were large lakes of sparkling water. Wildlife wandered lazily over the grassy hills which were dotted with blossoming trees.

"Well," Cyril sighed, "Welcome to Naboo."

The ship landed beside his estate. The building suited it's surroundings. It was extremely large, but not protruding. All types of green plants grew on it's exterior, blending it with the beauty of Naboo. Awe was all that Cazoa could muster.

She followed Cyril down the ramp of the ship and stepped onto the grass. It felt strange to feel something so soft below her boots. She had forgotten how beautiful bird song sounded, and took a moment to listen to each individual harmony. She breathed in deeply, sickly sweet pollen filling her nose, and clearing the dust from her lungs. The smell - she had smelt the exact fragrance before, yet she could not pinpoint where.

Her thought's were interrupted by a band of bustling droids emerging from the house, headed straight for them.

'Oh, Master Cyril, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you so well!" a droid named Medee cooed. The rest of the droids beeped in agreement.

Cazoa glanced at Cyril, and he was grinning. She was glad to see his tension had subsided somewhat.

"Yes, I'm sorry I've been out of contact,' he said. 'Jedi business you know. This is--"

He turned to introduce her, but before she could speak, Meedee hobbled to her in greeting.

"Oh, how lovely!" he said excitedly. "You've finally taken a bride? Your mother would be so pleased! What may I call you mistress?"

Bride? Cazoa's stomach lurched a little.

'Not quite bride,' she laughed awkwardly. 'You may call me Cazoa, it's a pleasure to meet you all.'

Everything around her felt so calm, so pure and alive. That was granted, considering the contrast of the Moon, but the force - it felt different. It unsettled her, though she did not let it show.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Meedee had always been a bit eccentric for a droid. He was well past the age for a mind wipe and Cyril doubted he would recover from one if it did happen. He'd grown far too attached to the odd little droid to retire him, and so Meedee tended to the same home he had taken care of for the last sixty years.

"You'd do well not to scare her off Meedee, unless you want me alone for the rest of my life? I am getting a bit older you know..." Cyril deadpanned. To his credit, he held the serious stare for quite some time, and Meedee certainly seemed convinced. The protocal droid began to jostle about and shake his head vigorously.

"No, no, of course not! Apologies Lady Cazoa!" The droid shouted. If an automotan could become flustered, then Meedee was certainly a model for the feeling. "Inside, please. I'll show you to the home."

Cyril found himself quietly chuckling as he followed after the conclave of droids into the home. The main hall was spacious; some would say a bit too opulent. From the marble floors to the basalt pillars held upon fashioned supports, nothing about the hall was plain. Such had been his family's way for generations.

"Here's home." Cyril gestured all about, though his attentions seemed never to leave Cazoa. "Meedee, can you leave us alone for a bit. We'll be in the garden."

The droid bowed. "Of course!"

All at once, the mass of droids dispersed, giving the two some privacy. Cyril stared down at Cazoa, his lips pressed into a thin line, a hint of color rising to his face. On a spur of the moment, he took Cazoa by the hand and moved to lead her into the garden.

"It's time I taught you some things."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

The entrance hall was grand to say the least. It was tastefully decorated and had been kept well in Cyril's absence. Yet it felt oddly quiet in its expanse, as if it hadn't seen the laughter of life in a long time. She imagined a younger version of Cyril, running up the grand staircase with his siblings. He dismissed the droids, and then turned to face her.

Was he blushing? The colour on his face warmed his expression, something that she hadn't witnessed on the Moon. This place was personal to him, and she felt honored that he would bring her here and share it. She looked into his eyes for a long moment, taking in the change she felt around him. He felt considerably more relaxed to her, and the force moved differently through him - vibrant, pure.

'It's beautiful,' she whispered. She referenced both the estate, and the shift in her perception of him. She wondered if Cyril would kiss her again and whether or not she would allow it. The lines that were supposed to be between Master and Apprentice, were barely evident in their case. She knew that she would have to process everything that had happened between them on the Moon eventually, and the purity of Naboo would surely help her clarity.

As if to answer her own apprehension, Cyril grabbed her hand and began to pull her to the gardens.

'It's time I taught you some things.' he said, pushing open the grand doors.

The sweet breeze swirled around her face as they stepped into the light. The sun wasn't as overbearing as the Moon had been - it felt warm, but the air was cool and fresh. The gardens were as majestic as she had assumed. In the distance she could see the mountains and lakes framed through a huge archway. On either side of the marble structure were large trees with yellow and blue blossoms, and through the archway, she could see several other levels to the gardens. It was expansive, with little hidden sections, full of different arrangements of flowers and fountains. As they passed under the archway, several levels down, she could see huge pool of water connected to the lakes in the distance by a river. There were beautifully carved boats in the pool, and Cazoa realized that it was a private marina. It was hard to imagine how awful the Galaxy was at times when she was surrounded by such beauty.

She kept her hand in Cyril's as he lead her through the gardens.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"It bears little in comparison to yourself," Cyril cracked a wicked little smirk. He'd decided not to avoid what had gone on between them on the moon. There was a connection there, both in the force and on an emotional level. For whatever reason they just clicked. He squeezed her hand ever-so-slightly as they came upon the marina.

It was here that he had come to know his biological family so well. He and his sisters had practiced their force capabilities in the shallow water around the dock. He and his mother had held scathing political discussions on one of the pearly white benches atop the shaded dock. He felt a pang of sadness looking upon the marina now. To see it so empty was painful, though he did not allow it to overwhelm him as it once had.

He led Cazoa down to the dock and settled down on the bench. His hand never left her own. "The force is coming to you with ease," he began, "I can feel it in you. Your strength, but it's a dangerous thing too."

He turned for a moment as a flock of birds passed overhead, cawing and squaking at one another for a thousand reasons. He grinned. "It can corrupt you, if you don't guard yourself. The Jedi come to the force as a companion. The Sith seek to enslave it. The latter always leads to destruction and suffering."

A moment of despair flashed across his features, but it was a fleeting thing. "Jedi learn to control themselves. They ignore their anger and their hate and let the force guide their actions. Some rely on their positive emotions to give them strength. Love can be just as powerful as hate, and compassion separates us from depravity."

"Open yourself to it. Empty your mind of all thoughts. Let its currents take you where they will. Don't seek to control it, simply ask of it what you want, and it will come."

A pause.

"Close your eyes and let the force flow through you Cazoa."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

It was easy to relax surrounded by the beauty of the gardens, though clearing her thoughts was something that she had never done before. Cazoa was analytical, though she had never been one to let thoughts guide her - it had always been her intuition that she had listened to, always in touch with her feelings and others' around her. But her mind would always analyse her choices after, regardless.

Cazoa closed her eyes and focused on the sounds around her instead of the thoughts that were rolling around in her head. She could hear bird song in the trees lining the garden, and she could hear the breeze rustling the plants, swimming over their leaves and blossoms. She could hear the trickling of water in the fountains, and in the distance, she could hear the faint roar of the waterfalls colliding down the mountainside. Once she had become aware of her surroundings, it was easier to see the force flowing through everything. It moved differently to how it had on the Moon - it filled everything with white energy, which she could see darting across her eyelids. On the Moon it had felt almost forced, labored, with cold intentions. Here, it reacted harmoniously with everything that it flowed through with natural ease, subtly guiding each life force, the breeze, the water, the birds, and herself.

The way that the force touched her caused Cazoa to breathe in deeply as she accepted it's presence within her. It felt rejuvenating in a different kind of way than it had on the Moon. Both essences had filled her with joy, yet here on Naboo, it was pure and definitive. It seeped into every part of her body and began to repair her, though she was not quite sure what it was repairing. This sensation caused her to become curious, questioning what exactly the force needed to heal within her.
Her thoughts came freely then, though they were perhaps more organised than when she had not been sitting so calmly.

Orange swiped across her eyelids, and her thoughts were drawn to the Moon. To the surface, the Dark Side came forth. It still swirled around her body freely, guiding her just as much as the force on Naboo was, but it was uncontrolled, and deep within, paired with Cyril's warnings, she felt that she needed to control it. Cazoa didn't wish to part with it, it was now a piece of her, and without it she knew that she wouldn't feel whole. The way the force had spoken to her on the Moon, the way that it had understood her...no, she wouldn't be without it. Instead she commanded it to stay collected in one place only to be called upon when she needed it.

All the feelings of hate and anger and despair and fear were present in the cluster of darkness. What did she have to hate? To fear? People had not been the thing rejecting her, and the Galaxy hadn't been unaccepting - it had been Cazoa that had rejected her own abilities. She had been holding herself back, not allowing her destiny to come forth, blocking it with her own perceptions. And in return, her negativity had set her on a path of such, causing her to lose much more than if she had chosen to go with the flow of the force, instead of fighting it. And so destiny had guided her to the Moon, of all places, shrouded in the same cluster of negativity that she kept within her. But curiosity of such feelings bought on by the Moon, had drawn her to Cyril, and as she had began to lose all suppression of her true self, beautiful things had started to form before her, things that she had always longed for - a purpose, acceptance of herself, acceptance of the force, guidance, power, strength, and Cyril. Negativity had only bought on more negativity, but positivity had attracted things that Cazoa had always desired.

She could hear Cyril breathing softly beside her. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body. It was strange to feel his energy vibrating at a much higher frequency than it had on the Moon. It was intense to feel, though not in a way where Cazoa wanted less...she wanted more.

Or did she? Did she truly want more?

She tried to control her thoughts on the matter. She had acknowledged the force, which had been a tremendous step for her, but could she acknowledge her feelings for Cyril? In a raw manner? The force called her to face it, but she couldn't. She panicked, opened her eyes, and severed the tranquility of silencing her mind had bought her. She knew that he would be able to feel what she was if she had allowed the force to address her feelings for Cyril. These things would have to be processed in private.

Cazoa stood, and walked to the edge of the dock. She watched small, brightly colored fish dart through the water for a moment. She did feel somewhat refreshed from the meditation. A year ago, she would have never pictured herself as the type for such techniques, but she could see why it was necessary.

She slipped back down beside Cyril on the bench, waiting for him to surface from his meditation.

 

[Placeholder 04]

It had been far too long since Cyril's last meditation. The rest he had taken upon the moon was never a comforting thing, but a necessity. Here amidst the garden, with Cazoa by his side and the droids of his youth surrounding him, he allowed himself to lower his guard. There was nothing in this garden that would dare to do him harm. It was a place of peace and healing -- it was all that his mother had stood for.

What would she think about his choices? She had always stood vehemently against any form of militarism. Her calling as a healer had led to her leaving the order to pursued a more traditional medical roll. Feena Mason had made it her life's work to combine conventional medicine and the workings of the force. The garden had always been a testament to that greater goal.

Would she have approved of the shadowy path he had opted to assassinate the Sith Emperor. Would she have praised him for his heroism and sacrifice, or chastised him for his brutality and deception.

With a heavy sigh, Cyril decided he would never truly decide on the answer. He sat rod-straight and slowly opened his eyes. The sun's amber light was a lazy thing; it didn't sear his retinas like the sun of the moon. The warmth of it upon his skin made him feel drowsy, and he found himself tempted to fall into sleep's embrace.

That was until he saw Cazoa. She sat alongside him, her presence in the force both refreshed and distressed. What has come to her in that private moment? Was she asking herself similar questions?

"It helps," he began, "with decision making and the like. It'll keep you sane if you ever find yourself in charge of anything." He flashed her a warm smile, "The more you open yourself to the force, the stronger your connection becomes."

His gaze fell to the lake. He could see small shapes breaching the water in the distance -- Uxi beasts, he decided. "There's a place not far from here where I constructed my lightsaber. It might serve you well, too. We can go whenever you're ready."

He paused, his brow furrowing with worry. "Are you alright? I felt something odd from you during the meditation. Not bad; you just seemed distressed."


[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

The lightsaber was in her pack which was resting by her feet. She wondered how one constructed such a weapon - it was unassembled, it's components thick with dust having been locked away in the ancient temple on the Moon for centuries.

'Let's go,' she smiled. She wanted to see all the places that he had been and all the things that he had done here on Naboo. She felt closer to him, sharing the memories of his childhood. 'I have the pieces here.'

Cazoa stood and lifted the tattered bag onto her back. She waited for Cyril to lead, but he paused, and concern washed over his face.

"Are you alright?' he asked. ''I felt something odd from you during the meditation. Not bad; you just seemed distressed."

Oh great.

'I'm fine,' she said. 'This place is just so beautiful, it's a shock considering where we've been for the past few months.'

It was a half-truth, at least. Every passing moment she felt more and more confident within the force. But her feelings for Cyril were beginning to confuse her. Her thoughts drew back to the night that they had kissed, and she wondered if the temple, even the Moon, had fueled their desires. The Dark Side was seductive, and in turn it had made her feel such a way with Cyril. And now, on Naboo, surrounded by the light, her feelings ran much deeper in a purity that she had never experienced before. Despite her confusion, she knew that she could never leave his side. But could he leave hers?

Cazoa looked up into his eyes, and by the concern on his face, she decided that he deserved more from her. Her eyes faltered and she let out a soft laugh to break the tension that she felt as she tried to muster her words on such a subject.

'During the meditation,' she began. 'There came a point where my thoughts turned to you. I didn't want to process right here, next to you.'

She hoped that he had understood. He was able to sense things within her, and she didn't want them aired before she was sure of them herself. She almost hated herself for how open she felt with him - like her soul was there to bare, whether or not she wanted it to be. Still, she dared herself to say more.

'When we landed,' Cazoa continued. 'I knew I had smelt the sweet fragrance in the air before, but I couldn't pin point exactly where. It came to me, just a moment ago - the trees, the blossom and it's smell, it was in the first vision shown to us in the temple. Do you remember?'

She invited him to speak of the visions as they began to walk. It was a subject that she hadn't spoken of until now, even thought of. The waterfall? Was it here, on Naboo? And the children? Were the visions coming true? Were they indeed the different outcomes of the choices that they would make?

In each vision, they had both been together, regardless.

 

[Placeholder 04]

He understood all too well what she meant. In truth, he had done well to hide those feelings away until very recently. Being around her in the garden had made drowning such thoughts almost impossible. Her close presence had only worsened it -- like a plague that he was all too keen on catching. It had confused him, muddled his thoughts: left him wondering just where he and Cazoa stood when it came to things outside of their teaching relationship.

"I understand all too well," he agreed, momentarily resisting the urge to take her hand in his. It really wouldn't be proper given the conversational subject. "I remember. It'd be hard not to." He chuckled, hoping to slice through whatever tension might have begun to build. He knew what connotations the visions carried.

"They weren't bad visions," he began, cursing himself for how simplistic he sounded. "They...well, I don't know. Premonitions aren't always set in stone." Even still, he saw the resemblance just as much as Cazoa did. It was all a matter of denial now.

The cave was just up ahead. Cyril felt it pulling him in. It was a place of great sentimental value for the Jedi Master, and carried a presence within the force all its own. He led Cazoa inside.

It was spacious, though damp and quite dark. The only natural light came from the various crystals lining the walls that glowed from some unseen source. In the center of the room was a podium with a mat set before it. "This is where I built my weapon," he gestured toward the podium, "Set the pieces out before you, empty your mind, let the force guide your hand as you create the weapon."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

By Cyril's words, she guessed that they would both be mulling over what was happening between them once they had privacy from each other. She wondered what a night alone without him would be like - they had spent the past two months within ten feet of each other. Something within definitely told her that the last visions shown to them would be the ending point, despite which path they took to get there. It was undeniable that this was the beginning - here on Naboo. But would either of them allow it to happen? Perhaps the visions were indeed just a tactic used by the spirit for it's amusement.

Cazoa's mind was ready to explode, but as soon as she followed Cyril into the cave, her thoughts quietened. Her eyes couldn't move from the cave walls - they were covered in glowing crystals. As she ran her fingers over them, goosebumps formed on her skin. She felt captivated by the force that swirled around her. It was like the cave was alive.

"This is where I built my weapon," Cyril gestured towards a podium in the middle of the room. "Set the pieces out before you, empty your mind, let the force guide your hand as you create the weapon."

Create the weapon? Cazoa had no idea how to assemble a lightsaber. A blaster, sure, but a intricately powerful weapon? Doubtful, Cazoa pulled the pieces from her pack and set them down on the podium. She brushed the dust from their surface with her finger tips, then, she closed her eyes and began to focus as she had done in the garden.

She could see the dancing colors of the crystals behind her eyelids, she could hear a drip somewhere at the back of the cave, Cyril's soft breath. Her mind emptied, and within her, she united the force of her being with that of the cave. It was a powerful but natural sensation.
Okay, now to assemble the lightsaber.

Cazoa's eyes opened, and in her hand, was a piece that she had not remembered picking up during her moment of meditation. Her hands moved, picking up other pieces, twisting them into place, until every piece had been connected with another. She set the lightsaber down into the podium, and ran her fingers over it's cold surface. There was something missing. But what? She walked over to the cave wall, and ran her fingers over the crystals once more, asking them to guide her. Then, she realized - the crystals were the answer. The lightsaber required a crystal. Her hand reached into the pocket on her trousers, and from it she pulled the jewel that her father had given to her. It was a deep bronze color, with milky wisps within, glowing like those on the cave wall.

Cazoa stepped back over to the podium and picked up the lightsaber. She removed some of the pieces so that she could place the crystal inside. She had almost forgotten that Cyril was standing opposite her and she looked up at him for approval. His eyes were sparkling in the light of the crystals.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril took a position by the mouth of a cave and watched Cazoa work. He would have no hand in what she did here now. It wasn't his place to. The building of one's lightsaber was an intimate and private thing, and he would only do Cazoa injustice by trying to infringe upon her work. The blade would be of her own making; as much a part of her as any of her limbs. He only hoped that she would be proud of whatever it was that came from her work.

He felt himself breathe a quiet sigh of relief when she turned to the crystals. He couldn't tell her what it was she needed, even if she knew. When she turned to him, bathed in the rainbow of lights from the crystals, he smiled. Cazoa was the picture of magnificence. "That's the one that called to you," he nodded, "Put it to use."

His gaze fell to the components upon the dais. His lightsaber was constructed in an older design, which often gave him distinct advantages and disadvantages in particular situations. what function would Cazoa's serve when it had finally been finished?

He allowed himself to reach out into the force. He pressed onto her with quiet encouragement and watched through the ethereal realm as she finished her work.

To see such unity was a rare thing indeed.

"The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined. The crystals, the blade, the Jedi. You are one." said Cyril, reciting the same mantra told to him upon the construction of his lightsaber.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

"The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined. The crystals, the blade, the Jedi. You are one." said Cyril.

His words rang through the cave, creating a definitive moment for Cazoa. All that was left now was to ignite the weapon to see if her work had been successful. With her mind still clear and focused, she took the lightsaber into her hand and pressed her thumb into the switch. A hiss rang through the cave as a bronze streak of energy formed the blade. It hummed in Cazoa's hands as she moved it through the air. She stood in awe of what she had created for a moment with a smile on her lips.

What Cyril had said rang true with her - she felt like she was connected to the lightsaber, as if it were a piece of her, an extra limb perhaps. The bond ran deeper than she had expected. She felt powerful and protected by something that was destined to always be hers.

Cazoa's eyes fell to Cyril as she pressed her thumb into the switch once more. The bronze light disappeared back into the hilt. Appreciation for him and for the force welled inside her, and she let him feel it as she projected it all around the cave. She smiled and basked in the completeness that she had thought would never be found.

 

[Placeholder 04]

His lips pursed in quiet awe. No matter how many battles he had partaken in, no matter how many blades he had clashed with, seeing one constructed was always a humbling experience. To see his knowledge passed onto someone worthy of it made his heart soar. A cybernetic hand trailed along the crystal wall as he strode up to Cazoa, his gaze flickering from the bronze of the blade to the woman's soft features.

"That's a start," he smiled as the blade died. "Not that I was worried. You're a natural. I was just curious as to what you might create. I've seen everything ranging from greatblades to more...phallic designs," Cyril grimaced dramatically. "Now we just need to teach you how to use it."

He reached out a hand to take the blade, but thought better of it. She would be inclined to keep it close. He had been horribly protective of his blade for the first few weeks. His hand fell down to run a finger along the hilt of the weapon. Always there, always reliable.

"Come on out to the garden, we'll test it." He turned to exit the cave. Past the marina, a large patch of open grass took up a few meters of the garden. It would be fitting.

"You're lithe and quick. Strong too. One of the more offensive styles might suit you," he paused, his lightsaber coming to life in his hands. The cyan blade hummed, ready for the conflict to come, "Did you find one you liked in the texts I gave you?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

"Come on out to the garden, we'll test it." Cyril turned to exit the cave, leading the way to a patch of grass by the marina.

She had no clue how to fight with a lightsaber, but somehow she knew that as well as Cyril, the force would guide her. Having spent some of her younger years as a slave at a - less than legal - blaster factory, she had always had an interest for such weapons. That wasn't not to say that she had never made use of her surroundings - sometimes a blaster was not necessary, requiring blades, and surrounding objects.

As she walked, Cazoa scanned the datapad, reading the texts outlining the different forms of combat.

'Atrau sounds useful,' she answered as they reached the patch of grass. 'I don't know, I've always been agile, perhaps honing those skills would make me a half decent combatant.'

Cazoa set down the datapad on a bench, and then followed Cyril to the center of the grass. She ignited her lightsaber as Cyril did.

'And Djem-so. Beating around the bush in combat has never been my forte.'

She smiled challengingly, awaiting Cyil's instruction.

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Well then," Cyril grinned, "Let's see how hard you can hit me."

His blade came up level. He held it in a high guard, his eyes narrowing somewhat as he took in her stance. It was far too easy to telegraph what you planned to do, and Cazoa was nothing more than a novice. He would relish this little contest as much as he would enjoy teaching her the workings of the blade.

"Come at me however you like. Remember to keep a leash on your emotions. You lose sight of things when they run wild, and then a whole manner of problems come in. You lose focus, and you die." He explained, flourishing the blade somewhat as he stepped up to Cazoa.

"Djem-so relies on strength. You'll want to master the art of delivering crushing blows and moving away before your opponent can counter."

He drew in a deep breath, allowing the ethereal energies to flow through him and strengthen his limbs. They did not need to lower the power settings on their weapons. Cyril knew she couldn't hit him, or so he thought.

"After you."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa gripped the hilt of the lightsaber with both hands as she readied her mind. Combat was something that she had always been good at, but to control her emotions during it might prove to be a challenge. Instead of rushing forth with anger, she instead filled herself with the strength that she had shared with Cyril on the Moon. It merged with the force, spreading to her limbs, and into the lightsaber.

With a quick motion, she stepped forward and raised the weapon above her head. Then she allowed the force to guide her hands, crashing her lightsaber down onto Cyril's. The impact and the sound of the two blades meeting caused her to stumble a few steps backwards. She could do better.

'Again,' she said, lifting the lightsaber above her head. This time she would need to utilize the force of the impact in her favor.

The power flowed through her body, only this time Cazoa gave strength to her intent. Once more, she bought her lightsaber crashing down onto Cyril's, but instead of stumbling backwards, she used the impact to push off with her dominant leg to the side. Here, she was out of range for an immediate swing counterattack. Furthering her intent, she twisted her body in a swirl, and before she had completed the circle, she swung her lightsaber once more into Cyril's. The velocity of her impact upon the second swing was expected, and her body naturally balanced into a slight lunge. Cazoa kept her lightsaber on Cyril's as he blocked her attack. She tried to match his strength, pushing back at her, but after a moment her arms ached and she dropped her stance.

It was sloppy, perhaps, for somebody who had always fought with blasters, but Cazoa's ideas and willingness were there all the same. She smiled and scrunched up her nose, waiting for Cyril's direction.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Grass spurted up in muddy fountains as Cyril's feet dug into the ground. He moved to parry her initial strike with practiced ease, allowing his limbs to move to wherever they may. His skills as a duelist were long tested and his senses in battle infinitely perceptive. When she wheeled about to strike, his cyan blade rose to block. The clash send vibrations jarring up his organic arm, but he spare it little mind. His gaze darted over Cazoa as he studied her form.

"You're stronger than I'd thought," Cyril huffed as he fought to keep her blade from breaking his guard. Cazoa was physically tough, but Cyril had the advantage of cybernetics. His right arm would never tire. "There's a bit of muscle to those limbs," he continued, a hint of a laugh following the tail of his words as Cazoa stepped back.

"You're smaller than me. Quicker too. Rely on that speed and size advantage. I represent a large target -- you don't." He intoned, his blade raising in a savage cut. Were it a real contest, the move would have been a veiled strike to cleave her from shoulder to hip. At it was, the weapon had power behind its arc, but lacked the lethality.

Grayson was never a passive teacher. His lessons were often cutthroat and brutal, but such was required this day and age. Jedi were expected to be warriors as much as they were peacekeepers.

"Don't let the blade touch you."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa smiled at his approval - she had always been stronger than what she looked. Still, it would take some time to master drawing strength from the force. At least to the point of where she would have the power to make Cyril sweat a little.

His blade rose and came flying down at Cazoa. The force flowed through her, moving her lightsaber up to meet the attack.

'Don't let the blade touch you,' Cyril said as the lightsabers burned against one another.

The initial block was filled with strength, but soon her arms tired, and Cyril's lightsaber became harder and harder to keep at bay. Still she persevered pushing back with all her might. But he pushed back with more, and soon her lightsaber was forced back onto her shoulder. On low power, it merely stung, but it was a sharp sensation nonetheless. She didn't flinch, and used the force to absorb the uncomfortable sting, and turned into into persistence - Cazoa continued to push back. If the lightsaber had been on full strength, and if she hadn't been able to keep it at bay as she was, it would have easily sliced into her shoulder and severed her arm.

It exhausted her mentally and physically to keep up the block much longer, leaving her no other option than to step back. The movement allowed her some room to push forward with her other foot and use the last of her strength to push Cyril's lightsaber away from her shoulder. It wasn't far, or perhaps lifesaving, but it gave her a little more room to retreat backwards. Cazoa knew that Cyril could easily swing his lightsaber and slice her chest, but she needed a moment. She immersed herself in the force, energizing herself once more in it's strength as she slowed her breath.

'Okay,' she said, turning back to Cyril. 'I'm ready, lets go again.'