Define Yourself

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Perseverance was something to be admired, but not when it would get you killed. She blocked his strikes with blunt force -- a contest of strength that Cyril would always win -- and paid dearly for it. The lightsaber would have ripped her arm from her shoulder in the blink of an eye if this had been real combat. Even still, she continued to push back despite the obvious pain coming from the burn. He lofted a brow at the continued display.

"You don't give up," he mused," That much is good, but there is a time to engage and a time to back away." his blade rose for another strike and halted mid-swing as she lowered her guard. Understanding, Cyril took a step back until she confirmed that she was ready once again.

"I'm a larger opponent than you. I'm going to be stronger than you physically -- that's just how it is, but you can use that against me." he gestured toward their blades, "Don't block my strikes head on. Roll with them. Carry the momentum on the tip of your blade so it carries over your shoulder. When you finish the spin, you can strike out however you like. If you're quick, your opponent may not be able to block it."

His explanation given, Cyril stepped forward. He adopted a lower guard; a risky move, but this was all for the sake of training. His blade moved in slow, powerful arcs one might use to cleave through a powerful defense. He chopped along the waistline, then overhead, and then he stabbed forward. It was a standard motion, and one he took at a relatively moderate pace. It was designed so that she might see the flaws in his movement and counteract them: his limbs were stretched too far, he strikes telegraphed, his lower guard bad for parrying any offensive maneuvers.

"Don't let it touch you," he repeated.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa poised herself, ready for Cyril's attack. She let the force flow through her, willing its power to guide her and heighten her intuition. As she blocked the strikes, she could tell that Cyril wasn't using his full capabilities, but it allowed her to understand how a duel with such weapons felt. One of his strikes burned her arm. Frustration tried to bubble it's way to the surface of her emotions.

'Again,' she said, taking a few steps back. She suppressed her feelings.

The duel commenced, the force guiding Cazoa's blocks. A few months ago, she would have scoffed at the idea of relying so heavily on an energy that she could not see, and letting it guide her movements in a battle. But Cazoa understood now that she had always allowed it one way or another, she just had never consciously felt and utilized it. She wondered if she had been open to the force, would she have been able to save her father and his crew?

Cyril's lightsaber stung across her bicep.

She retreated once more, taking a moment to allow all thoughts to leave her head. All that remained was focus and determination, perhaps slightly laced with frustration. She would not allow Cyril's lightsaber to touch her again. Cazoa began to block his strikes as he came forth. By now, her subconscious had memorized his movements. It was also easier to sense his intention through the fast paced combat. At his next swing, the force guided her to step under it. The sweep of his lightsaber was wide, and her duck was quick, taking her behind Cyril. Cazoa twisted her body in a half-circle, keeping low so as to avoid his lightsaber finding her head, and at the end of the circle, as Cyril turned to collect himself, she swung at his legs. She felt the blade of her lightsaber collide with the side of his calf.

'I hope you weren't fond of your legs,' Cazoa breathed. She straightened and resumed her position in front of Cyril.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril had begun to enjoy their little contest. Handicapped though it might have been, there was always a bit of a thrill to combat -- even if no harm could truly come of it. He made a mental note to ignore his more primal love of the fight and pressed his attack. One of his strikes stung Cazoa's skin, then another. He began to pull back somewhat, knowing full well the strikes would only sting but not wishing to bring her any further harm anyway. He was growing soft.

A gasp escaped his lips when her blade found its way to his legs. He fell forward and caught himself halfway down. She had effectively hamstrung him. Were the blades set to their maximum setting, he would have been missing a leg. He found himself grinning as he doused his blade. They were making progress.

"I've always been lazy, truth be told. You've just given me an excuse to fly around in a hoverchair," he snickered as he clipped his lightsaber to his belt. Calloused fingers rose to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow and gestured toward the setting sun.

"Night's coming soon. You're tough, but it's time we both took a rest. Meedee must be fussing himself over dinner already." Cyril let his gaze fall upon her. She was a mess, much like he was. Such was to be expected during combat on a particularly sunny day such as this. He ran his fingers through his shock of ebony hair and set a hand upon her shoulder.

"You're a natural, by the way," he grinned, "Not that I'm surprised."

A long silence followed. Cyril stared down at her, his lips pressing into a thin line as he searched her features for...something. He didn't know what. The sun began to sink below the distant mountains. Cyril lingered.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa laughed and followed suit, flicking the switch on her lightsaber. The bronzed blade disappeared. She held the weapon in her hands for a moment sentimentally, and then clipped it onto her belt.

She wondered if her father had known the crystal would later be used to bring a lightsaber to life. Perhaps if he had been more open with her about his knowledge of her abilities, she might have gotten to where she was a lot quicker. But would she have met Cyril? Something told her that she would have.

The setting sun engulfed the gardens in a beautiful orange glow.

"You're a natural, by the way," Cyril grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Not that I'm surprised."

'Thank you,' Cazoa's voice came quiet as the atmosphere in the air changed. 'Master.'

Once again she found herself captivated by his life force. It exceeded the beauty and intensity of everything around her, including the cave. What was he searching for as he gazed into her eyes? She had no answers for him. She could not bring herself to kiss him, as the moment called for, and she could not bring herself to turn away. Instead she savored the moment as the purity of her feelings surfaced. A great tension built within her as the world around her slowed to a halt. The effect that he had on her was profound.

Cazoa couldn't take the intensity without the burning need to feel his lips, so instead she dropped the gaze and rested her forehead on his chest, her hands clutching his t-shirt. She stayed there for a moment while she steadied her breathing.

'Let's not keep Meedee waiting...' she whispered.

Though a droid, he had seemed so happy to see Cyril return to the house - she wouldn't want to offend his hard work in welcoming him back. And truthfully, she knew that Cyril was just as eager as her to eat a proper meal that hadn't come from a packet.

 

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"You...shouldn't call me that." his voice came in a soft murmur. There were a thousand things he wished to say, yet he spoke none of them. He wouldn't, couldn't. Stready hands remained on her shoulders as he held her, the silence of the garden suddenly deafening. What they were was not something traditional. Cyril could no more call her padawan than he could one of his colleagues. Cazoa was on his level, she only lacked some of the knowledge she needed to take up her calling.

"You're my student for now, but you're also my -" his brow furrowed, "I have no idea what to call it -- us." He almost wanted to curse. it was frustrating trying to put a label on whatever was happening between him and Cazoa. The bond was strengthening as Cazoa learned, and he found it harder and harder to leave her presence. would this be a permanent fixture? He couldn't say, but it left him wondering as to what would come of it all.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled away with obvious reluctance. "He's a lovely cook. Never gave him any programs for it, he learned how to do it of his own accord." His voice was tinged with pride. The change in subject was a welcome one for now -- better they did not dwell on the complications of their relationship right now.

"Let's hope he remembers not to call you bride, eh?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Dinner had been cheerful and Meedee's cooking had been surprisingly delicious. After the conversation had worn thin, Cyril had shown Cazoa to her chamber and shortly after his retreat to his own quarters, Meedee had bought her some clothes that had belonged to Cyril's mother. The assortment of dresses, tops, and trousers were of fine quality, and yet as Cazoa paced the grand bedroom, she kept Cyril's t-shirt on.

Cazoa's frantic pacing had been bought on by the room - not only did it have a balcony that looked out over the waterfalls in the distance, but it was also the same room that had been shown to them on the Moon. The last vision had been of Cyril and herself, asleep in the vast bed, woken in the morning by two dark haired children that had called them mother and father. Even the white linen drapes were the same.

She was afraid. Never would she have even considered bringing children into such a harsh Galaxy. Not only that, but Cyril was of importance to many people, would she want children raised with such high expectations on their shoulders? Cazoa laughed at herself, trying to rationalise her mind. She had seemed much older in the vision, perhaps her ideals would have changed by then. And as Cyril had said, the visions weren't set in stone. Perhaps there wouldn't even be any children.

Cazoa scanned the room until she spotted what she had been looking for. By the door, atop a elegant dresser, were an assortment of liquor bottles. She hurried to them and picked out a dark brown liquid. She didn't bother with a glass as she opened it. The liquid warmed Cazoa's insides, and took the edge off of her thoughts. But after several swigs, she looked at the bottle for a long moment, and a thought came to her. Perhaps she needn't rely on alcohol to drown out her issues. Cyril had taught her that meditation was just as effective, and in truth, her earlier experience of it had indeed quietened her mind and shown her a clarity that would be unlikely caused by drinking herself silly.

Cazoa sighed and set the bottle back down on the silver tray and then stepped out onto the balcony. The air was cool, and the night tranquil. She watched the marina sparkle in the moonlight for a moment, and then began to immerse herself in the force. As she did, her thoughts started to become organised.

For half an hour she sorted through them at peace. She didn't need to feel so afraid - the force had a plan for her, just as it did for every living thing in the Galaxy, and in that plan she needed to trust. She faced her feelings for Cyril. They made her want to run to his chamber and tell him how deeply she cared for him.

As Cazoa crawled into bed, she concluded that the visions shown to them could change, but her feelings for Cyril would not. She need not put such hard expectations on herself, and rather live in the moment, and cease to worry unnecessarily about whether or not she was doing the right thing. In her half-asleep state, Cazoa wished so deeply that Cyril was beside her, like he had been on the Moon.

In the morning, it seemed that her wish had come true - she awoke to Cyril, who was sprawled on the sofa against the wall opposite her bed.

 

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Contact with the remaining Shadows had been made once Cazoa found her way to the chambers given to her. Cyril took great care not to alert anyone else in the household as to who he might be speaking with at such a late hour. Two of his contacts answered, updating him on the current events revolving around the Republic and the Order as a whole. Things were worse than he had imagined -- he could not stay away much longer.

His thoughts had turned to his child shortly thereafter. Talaya was not here; she had begun her schooling semester in Theed. Explaining Cazoa to the young girl would have been disastrous, to say the least. Explaining Talaya to Cazoa would have been just as difficult. Sighing, he sent the teenager a short message asking how she was doing and explaining that he was back in town and alright. She would likely reply some time in the morning.

Breathing a heavy sigh, Cyril slumped down to the floor of his chambers. The room was as clean as the day he had left -- the work of Meedee no doubt -- and gabe him a heavy heart. The last time he had stayed here had been during his mother's funeral. Grief followed those though: a cold, dark foe that lingered at the edge of his mind and struck out in his private moments.

And yet he had reasons to be happy. Talaya was growing to be a fine young woman, every inch her mother's daughter, and Cazoa was showing great promise. Cazoa.

He drew in a sharp breath. The bond was strong, but not something that required they be near one another. Even still...

With great care, the shadow creaked the Cazoa's door open. He saw her form upon the bed -- he hadn't awoken her. Pleased, Cyril settled down on the couch nearby and drew his cloak tight about his form. Slumber soon followed.

He awoke shortly after she did, his hands raising up to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He was clad in simple striped pajamas of black and white; a sharp contrast to his somewhat regal looking Jedi garments. His cybernetic arm whirred as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Eh, hi," he grumbled, "My room had rats. Figured I'd steal your couch," he lied, "Figured it wouldn't bother you."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

'Rats huh,' Cazoa raised an eyebrow. 'Meedee won't be pleased that his Master's room is home to rats.'

She knew very well that there were no rats - the droid was far too house proud to leave an infestation untreated. Cazoa slipped out of bed, still wearing Cyril's t-shirt, and stepped across the room to the bathroom.

'I guess the other five bedrooms are full of them too?' she smiled as she passed him.

Finding Cyril there when she woke had elated her spirit. Now that she trusted her path, she could finally afford to relax, and it felt good. She would never cease to feel the pull to Cyril so intensely, but she could stop it from hindering her so.

Cazoa showered, and then dressed in the clothes that Meedee had bought to her room the night before. Never particularly one for dresses, she chose to wear a simple, khaki green one-suit. The fabric felt strong and flexible enough to withstand any training that might be in store for the day. She zipped the front up, and then entered back into the bedroom. Cyril had moved from the sofa to the balcony, staring out at the sunrise over the gardens.

'Beautiful,' she said softly as she came to his side. She was still in awe of how spectacular Naboo was.

Cazoa breathed in the fresh morning air and closed her eyes, opening her senses to the force, allowing it to energize her body. After a moment, she turned and rested against the railing of the balcony. She watched Cyril's face for a moment, a smile forming on her lips. He looked so handsome in the glow of the morning light.

'So what do you have in store for me today?' she asked. 'I hope you're not expecting me to catch any rats...'

 

[Placeholder 04]

Naboo was a stark contrast the damnable moon. Cyril found himself enraptured in its purity. The land of his mother's birth was beautiful in an unspoiled way. There were no great factories dotting its landscape, no all encompassing clouds of smoke to choke the atmosphere and hide the sun from the planet's inhabitants. As he looked at the rolling hills below, nothing greeted him save for the warm company of nature. Perhaps they could stay a bit longer.

"All of them," he agree. "They're running around like crazy. Clearly, Meedee hasn't been paying enough attention," Cyril laughed, his fingers wrapping the handrails of the balcony. His visage reddened somewhat as he was found out, and he made a point to look out toward the land beyond so that she might not see him flustered.

"Just so happens that was exactly what I had planned." The golden light fell upon them both like a warm blanket. Cyril turned to meet he rgaze and found himself taken aback. She glowed like a golden goddess in the morning light, resplendent in her beauty. He found himself fighting for the right words.

"Have a problem with a bit of physical labor? My old master would have said something about learning humility from it." He nudged her shoulder with his own, "- and something about learning focus or...something like that," he shrugged. "Either way, before we get to planning, breakfast might be important?"

Down below Meedee was bustling about. It had been a full year since anyone aside from himself and the other droids had occupied the home. He went all out for the affair. Eggs, bacon, buttered rolls and various other morning delicacies were set out for the duo. The protocol droid passed the time awaiting the two to wake up by discussing recent gang attacks on one of the local settlements with his comrades, and pondering who Miss Cazoa really was.

He supposed he would find out shortly.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa smiled as she watched Cyril squirm - indeed there were no rats. She was enjoying it, especially when his cheeks flushed slightly in the morning glow. He had come to her room to be near her, as she had wished. Though her wish hadn't been verbal, but he had appeared all the same, as though they were bonded somehow, in their minds and through the force. Cazoa wondered on it for a moment, and concluded that such things did not exist.

She chuckled though his attempts to hide his tinge of embarrassment.

'Yes, breakfast sounds amazing right now,' she agreed. Meedee's cooking had made an impression on her after eating such a bland diet for so long. Cazoa began to step to the balcony doors but turned around halfway, a new found confidence within her.

'I enjoy waking up to you,' she said. Her words were that of pure sincerity. 'It would be strange not to.'

She smiled, her own bout of embarrassment flushing her cheeks. Then she entered the bedroom, and made her way down to the lower floors for breakfast.

As they entered the dining room, Meedee was nattering to another little droid as they laid several different platters of food onto the grand mahogany table. Something about raids on a nearby settlement, and...

'-did you know that Master Cyril was not in his chambers this morning? No, he was in Miss Cazoa's!'

'Good morning Meedee,' Cazoa said, a little louder than a greeting would have called for. 'Everything looks delicious!'

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril didn't know how to respond to what she'd said. He just looked at her and smiled, as if that might explain his errant thoughts and his agreement with their sentiment. They had been in one another's company for months. It was only natural that separation would be a hollow thing for either of them.

He paid little mind to the rosy coloration of her features. Even if he found himself embarrassed, he realized there was little to actually be embarrassed about. The facts were they and they could not be ignored. Was it a sin to enjoy one another's company in a situation such as theirs? If it was, Cyril found he didn't much care.

He followed her down the stairs to the main hall. It had been made with dozens of guests in mind. Many years had passed since the hall was used for its intended purpose.

"Looks great Meedee," Cyril smiled at the droid. Meedee seemed to stand up a little straighter at that. "Oh, thank you," if he could smile, he would have been, " -and good morning to you, Miss Cazoa!"

If the droid had any understanding of her raised tone, he did not show it. "We were discussing the recent attacks on one of the local villages by the White Thranta. A troublesome lot, they are." The little mouse droid he had been speaking to beeped in agreement.

Cyril sat down on the table and listened closely as he ate.

"A few of the villagers are missing, and I've heard some absolutely terrible things about what they did to the major's daughter," a shiver found its way into the droid's voice. "They're trying desperately to reassert their hold now that the Galactic Alliance controls Naboo. It is truly a mess."

Cyril frowned, "When did they show up again? I thought mom put a stop to them."

Meedee shook his head. "Four months ago. It seems the RSF was not as thorough as Mistress Mason had thought."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa took a seat at the table and began to pick at a shuura fruit. She had never tasted anything like it - the sweetness exploded in her mouth, delighting her tongue. Meedee continued to shed light on the troubles that had been occurring in the nearby settlements. Cazoa listened, and started on a boiled egg and a buttered roll.

It unsettled her to think of who ever these White Thantra were and what they might have done to the General's daughter. The faces of the dirty and bruised slaves that she had freed from raiders not long after her father's death, flashed across her mind. She wondered if they had managed to find a better life.

In truth, she was rather impartial to the whole situation as she listened to Meedee. On any other occasion, it wouldn't have been her nature to meddle with affairs that did not concern her; but the concern on Cyril's face was clear. His mother's works and duties were understandably important to him, and so they were important to Cazoa.

'Perhaps we should offer our assistance?' she asked, glancing up at Cyril as she sipped on a cup of tea.

 

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"Perhaps we should," Cyril agreed, his brow furrowing as Meedee went on. Disorder was the antithesis of what he had come to value in recent years. Naboo was now safely nestled in the bosom of the Galactic Alliance, but it could still suffer from local problems. The White Thranta were an ancient gang; hailing from times before the Old Republic had fallen. Cyril had done some research into their whereabouts, but kept coming up short on the informational end.

"When we've time, we'll go pay them a visit. See how they're doing -- that sort of thing." He continued, pushing his food aside for the moment. Thoughts about the future had stolen his appetite. With a frown, he slowly rose from his seat, and gestured toward Meedee. "Can you give me a readout of where they might be hiding away?"

"Of course sir!" The droid exclaimed. "I will have it ready for you within the hour."

Satisfied, Cyril gave the droid a nod. It tottered off with a cheerful whistle, and Cyril turned back to face Cazoa. These White Thranta would be as much a suitable test for her as they would be for him. The old voice was speaking again, a clear resonation in the back of his skull. It was only fitting that he pay it his attentions.

"I've taught you elements of the Jedi way, and that of the Sith, Cazoa. It is important to learn all aspects of the force. He who becomes too dogmatic toward one group's teachings becomes their slaves. He will always live in chains. I do not wish for that to be your fate."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa watched Meedee leave the dining hall to gather his report. Cyril's brow was furrowed contemplatively. She wondered if it had something to do with his mother, she knew being back in their family home would be hard for him. But either way, when he turned to Cazoa to speak he was collected.

"I've taught you elements of the Jedi way, and that of the Sith, Cazoa. It is important to learn all aspects of the force. He who becomes too dogmatic toward one group's teachings becomes their slaves. He will always live in chains. I do not wish for that to be your fate."

Cazoa set her cup back onto it's decorated saucer and thought on his words for a moment. 'Then I am to draw upon both ways? The Jedi and the Sith teachings?' she asked. She wondered how hard it would be for her to stay away from the feeling of the Moon when it really came down to it. 'To find my own way? A balance between them both?'

Cazoa wasn't one for chains - a free mind and spirit was what she relished. She could understand Cyril's words, and how unsatisfying it would be if she were solely practicing the Jedi way, or the Sith way. Even to solely practice one, and understand the other completely, would make for a powerful upper hand. Yet her understanding of either were still limited, and to find a healthy balance between the two would require patience, and experience. Cyril seemed to be in control, yet sometimes, he felt more like the Darkness than he did the Light. Sometimes there was a glint in his eyes, one of hardness and power. As the days that they were together wore on, Cazoa was slowly beginning to become more attuned to Cyril's feelings. Time could only tell whether or not she was becoming stronger within the force, or if he was allowing himself to become more open to her.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if she had manipulated him subconsciously throughout their journey together. With people not tangled with the force, it had always been easy to read their feelings, they came to her almost as strongly as a pure thought, and therefore it had always been easy to pick her reaction, pick her words, calm a situation, liven a situation. But with Cyril her talent had been completely closed off, yet now she wondered if her subconscious knew and made her react in such a way, without her ever being conscious of it.

She acknowledged that she was finally taking an interest in herself - finally allowing herself to discover all that she was capable of now that Cyril had given her the tools to explore herself with. And she doubted that she could manipulate herself into feeling the way that she did whenever she looked into Cyril's eyes.

'So who exactly is this gang? What are we up against?'


[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

He was...pleased to see that she understood. It would be something to elaborate on further in the future, though for now the cryptic words would suffice. Cazoa would decide for herself what path she would walk; Cyril would only serve to guide her through her trials. With a tilt of his head, he indicated Meedee. The droid shook slightly from its perch at the doorway, and strolled off. Now they had a semblance of privacy.

"The White Thranta have been around for centuries," he began, "They are an old crime family, though which family controls them varies every few years. they specialize in extortion, the slave trade, and simple raids. Not the most sophisticated group, but they're hardy enough to have existed this long." Cyril strolled around the table and settled down into the seat next to her. He pressed his elbows into the table and cupped his chin in his hands, leaning toward her.

"They likely have military kit, given recent changes out here in the outer rim. I would expect them to be...troublesome." He paused, his expression relaxing somewhat. He met Cazoa's eyes, and cracked a thin, albeit warm smile. "Together, we might be able to alleviate some of the pain they cause the locals. So long as we're careful, it is possible."

A hand reached out to grasp Cazoa's forearm. It was a short, gentle touch, and Cyril's gaze wavered. "Should we be caught unawares...well, I would hate to see your beautiful features ruined. They'd kill us both, but I don't think it will come to that."

The smile widened. "We're both to smart for that, aren't we?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Slave trade? Cazoa felt a flutter in her stomach. Prior to her job on the Moon, she had spent the better part of a year hopping between systems, trying to find her adoptive father's long lost wife, Popi. Popi had been stolen from him several years before he had found Cazoa, and on his death bed he had handed her a journal, logging each of the systems he had searched. Slaves often got resold or traded as they grew older, or acquired certain skills, so if she hadn't been on one planet that had been scouted, she could be now. Naboo was never somewhere anybody looked for slaves, but either way, the search was futile, and only by luck would she be found...if she was still alive, and it was highly unlikely that she was.

Still, as Cyril spoke, she could only focus on her thoughts of Popi. It was a peculiar feeling, one she had never felt during the year long search. During the year after her father's death she had been a complete mess, and had had little to no thoughts or feelings other than loneliness and anger. But now, she felt hopeful. She fell back to the present as Cyril's hand reached out to squeeze her forearm. It was a short but gentle touch, which left her skin tingling.

"Should we be caught unaware...well, I would hate to see your beautiful features ruined.' he said. His playful words were enough to make her laugh quietly into her cup. ''They'd kill us both, but I don't think it will come to that. We're both too smart for that, aren't we?"

His smile widened, lifting Cazoa's mood from whatever dark memory that haunted her. If she could see that smile every day...

'Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you,' she chuckled.

She wasn't worried, perhaps she should have been - the White Thantra didn't sound like a walk in the park, but it was impossible to deny herself the confidence she had found in the force. If she knew they would be successful in their mission, then they would be. There was no room for error. The year searching for Popi wasn't exactly a walk in the park either, and during that time she hadn't been an apprentice to arguably one of the most powerful men in the Galaxy.

'Once we have their location, how do you want to proceed?' she asked, finishing her tea. 'I'm in two minds of us being able to destroy a whole gang with military weapons...though I wouldn't doubt we could...' she paused and smiled as she humored him. '...but I'm quiet on my feet, a handy talent acquired by living with thieves for most of your childhood, we can 'steal' the major's daughter if you would prefer less of a bloodbath. But a bloodbath can be fun, especially if you want to teach them a lesson.'

She smiled amusingly and wondered if a Jedi would say such things.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril drew back, the intended effect of his touch achieved. He leaned far back in his chair, arms folding about his chest as she went on about possible plans. He made a point to simply smile and nod, opting not to give her any form of verbal reply. To do so would have stunted her growth, in a sense, and he needed to give her some sense of independence. As much as she would come to rely on him in the future, she would need to fend for herself from time to time.

"That choice, my dear, is up to you." He explained, titling his head toward the door. "Whatever happens will be your choice. I can't make it for you -- I can only guide. This is your destiny. The White Thranta were set in front of you for this purpose." His smile deepened, and he huffed a quiet, good-natured laugh. "I'm eager to see what you do with it."

With that, he rose up from his chair, and tapped her on the shoulder. "I'll go prep the speeder. When you're ready, come on out and tell me your thoughts. We'll go from there," he paused, "And make sure to bring your lightsaber. You'll need it."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze, and turned off toward the motorpool. By the time she came around, the speeder would be alive and ready for their departure.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa ran her fingers on the cool steel of her lightsaber. She realized that it had been the only weapon on her person - normally, there would be two pistols resting just behind her hips. She would need them, she decided, and left the dining hall, and made her way back to her room.

How to go about their raid on the White Thantra? The plan would be in her hands, and she was more than capable of handling such a decision. What had worked for her the best in the past? All out battle, or stealth. Stealth. It would make more sense to retrieve the major's daughter and get her out of harms way, and then decide what lessons the gang needed to learn. She didn't doubt that they would retaliate once they knew that the major's daughter had been stolen from under their noses...and the retaliation might be on the innocent friends and family of the major. Something would have to be done, and she trusted that what needed to be done would come to her when the time was right.

Her thoughts turned to Popi as she gathered her pistols resting on her nightstand. Cazoa felt safer with them on her person. She walked over to her pack that was strewn on the dresser, and from within she pulled a leather-bound notepad - her father's journal. Inside, amongst his scrawls, was a photo of him and Popi together. They looked so happy, so content. The love he had for her was immense, Cazoa could tell. She had memorized Popi's face, but something drew her to the photo, she had to check it once more. Could she be here? Could Cazoa finally let go of the past?

She stuffed the photo back into the notebook and placed it back into her pack. She grabbed the straps, and left the room, hurrying down to Cyril.

It took her awhile to find him - the grounds of the mansion were extensive. Meedee was fussing around the speeder.

'Stealth,' Cazoa said, announcing her arrival. She swung her pack into the back of the speeder. 'At least at first. We find the major's daughter, get her to safety if possible, and then assess our options. It would be wise to make sure the White Thantra don't go after her or the major once they realize she's been taken. Perhaps we only need to confront their leader. Perhaps their death will be the only need for casualty. We should finish what your mother started. Naboo is too beautiful to have such scum polluting it's essence.' She glanced at Cyril as she climbed into the speeder. 'I know, I know, he will be heavily guarded. And the whole camp will be alerted if there is a ruckus, but we can assess once we're inside.' She glanced at Meedee, wondering if he had found the gang's location.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril was not at all surprised with her chosen method of dealing with the White Thranta. He had never taken her as the sort for an all-out direct confrontation, but then his intuition had been wrong in the past. With a smile, he opened the side-door of the speeder to allow her inside. Meedee came trotting up to the duo a few paces away. He seemed as excited as a droid with no method for expression could be, given the waving of his hands and the quickness of his movements.

"I've found them my lords," the protocol droid sputtered, "If you so desire, I may upload these coordinates to your speeder." Meedee already knew the answer, of course. He'd begun to send that specific data long before he had even made his way down to the garage. They were stationed some ways out from Keren, a city not particularly far form here.

Cyril took a moment to look over the data, pleased that his guess had been correct. There was no way that the White Thranta could have subsisted far from any major city, and while he may have been able to find them via the force, he'd chosen to put on this act for Cazoa. Better she underestimate his powers so that she might not be intimidated.

"I like your choice," he began. "It's smart. Only the imbecile marches into battle without knowing what his enemy is capable of." Cyril instructed. It had been a test, and as he expected, she had passed. He stared into her eyes for a moment, deciding that she might be more than just a promising apprentice, and revved up the speeder. With practiced skill, Cyril led the speeder out from the garage and the villa grounds with a speed no normal man could have safely undertaken.

"It's not too far," he said, not having to shout due to the cabin overhead the two of them. "Tell me, how will we ensure the captive's safety, Cazoa?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

"I like your choice," Cyril agreed. "It's smart. Only the imbecile marches into battle without knowing what his enemy is capable of."

His eyes rested on her for a moment, and again she wondered what he was thinking, waiting for any emotion that might escape him and find her. Nothing came, and soon the speeder was racing through the villa's gates. She glanced back at the grand house. She wasn't one for staying in one place for too long, if she could help it, but Naboo and Cyril's home made her feel as if she wanted to be here amongst the calm and the green. Everything around her was a brilliant shade of green. The ground, the mountains, and the tree canopies above them. Green was her favorite color now, she decided.

"It's not too far," Cyril said after a moment. "Tell me, how will we ensure the captive's safety, Cazoa?"

'Like you said, we can't rush the camp,' Cazoa said, watching the trees whirl past. 'It would be foolish. So we scout. Find a vantage point, learn their setup, and where the major's daughter might be kept. We create a path to her, keeping to the shadows just before night falls. I will take her back to the speeder, which we will leave hidden in the trees, if she is in good condition, she can take it back to her father.' She paused and turned her head to look at Cyril. 'The gang will keep thriving if we don't do something about their influence. They'll try to take her again, or worse. That part is your decision, this is your home, your mother's work. Once I have taken her to safety, I will be by your side whatever you choose.'

[member="Cyril Grayson"]