En Fuego

[Joza Perl]

Mustafar​

Shaping, as Joza had been warned, tied deeply into one’s feelings. Perhaps it wasn’t the best route for the young Zeltron, seeing as how emotionally volatile she was. But she thought that maybe it would help give her some incentive to get a better hold on her feelings, lest she burn a planet to the ground in a fit of rage.

Aside from being a physical combat expert, [member="Jericho"] had mastered all forms of shaping—maybe that influenced her to pursue a similar path not-so-subconsciously, but here she was. Standing across from the man known to many as The Ghost, Joza’s eyes flicked back and forth in their sockets as she studied her opponent. She hoped the day would never come where they’d stand like this as enemies.

With a sharp inhale, the pink tinted woman reached forth and drew a tendril of flames in the air before seizing it in her hand and snapping it back. As she brought the trail of flame behind her it grew in length, before she shot it forward once more. The fire whip would rush towards the right side of Jericho’s torso, before a sharp jerk of Joza’s wrist would bring it lower and to the right—as if she were aiming to wrap it around his midsection.

She was a far cry from the nervous little Padawan she’d been when they last trained together, but how well would she fare against him now?

 

[Jericho]

It was not long after the battle with the great leviathan that they chose to train the art of elements. Jericho's was 'very' surprise to find out that his former padawan was a shaper and of fire no less. Out of the all the elements the warrior had to his disposal, fire and earth were the elements that reflected his personality the most. As is earth, one has to be grounded and sound of mind as strong as a boulder; the earth was the most physically exhausting of the shaping arts and took a strong body to continually use it as the warrior did. Fire, was the most passionate of the arts, it required true commitment as those who could not follow through with the intense training, found themselves burn to ask by the flame that they had made themselves. As fire went, though, many thought that anger was the highest form of showing their passion, those who followed that logic would never find their true potential. Jericho once thought with that mentally but found that there was more to passion than hate or anger, which is why his power in flame was found to be legendary. In this knowledge, he may or may not bestow to his longest living padawan, [member="Joza Perl"] .

The young zeltron form a whip of fire, a construct although weak, it took much concentration and skill to do such a thing. The technique was very advance and Jericho found himself somewhat impressed though he did not show it. The warrior merely stood calmly she controlled it ever gracefully with a flick of the wrist to wrap around his torso. So would find his armor and robes were lace with fire proof gear which barely stood up to his own flames. In response Jericho raise his hands and took in a deep breath, her flames obeyed his call and turn into a ball of bright white hovering above his own hand. "Joza....Why do you hold back? Come at me, little one. Show me what you can really do." The warrior calmly stated to challenged her. She was no longer a little girl and he was going to treat her as such, even though he called her 'little one' as a term of endearment. "We are on a planet filled with heat and flame. You can do more than just a puny whip!" He stated his voice still stern as he hurled the ball of flame at her.

 

[Joza Perl]

A flare of irritation rose in her chest as if it were acidic bile when she witnessed Jericho reconstruct her attack into one of his own. He didn’t parry, counter or dodge—no, he took control of her flames and used them for himself. It was a testament to his mastery in fire shaping, but she was curious to see what he knew just as much as he was here to see what she had learned out from under him.

She tisked as he called her “little one”, not yet able to recognize it as a term of endearment. The Zeltron figured that he still viewed her as a fumbling teenage Padawan, but she was beyond that now. No longer would her hands shake in battle, now she fought with a calculated, focused eye. Still, she had her own set of problems. It would be impossible to hide her anger and the dark side that burned at the edges of her mind from him, as bonded as they were and as versed in the Force as he was.

“Don’t call me that!” She hissed back, though there wasn’t much bite in her voice as she reeled her hand back, eyes glued to the incoming ball of white fire. Her focus was split, more so on the attack than responding to his taunt. As the sphere came within range, she took control of it as her arm moved back, guiding the fire towards her hand. A moment to gather more energy around the ball, and she thrust her elbow forward. From her open palm erupted a conical torrent of flames the same height as [member="Jericho"], initially white but quickly fading to the standard bright orange she was used to. "You move well for an old man."

 

[Jericho]

She moved elegantly, she was much more brave in her movement, much more confident in herself than she was in her youth. She had grown up from the quiet and polite girl that she was. Thought the warrior could not take any credit in her growth, this was all on her and her own experiences in life that made her like this but still those same experience left her with a sense of doubt. He could feel it, despite her mouthing of to him, the warrior could sense it, the doubt, the fear, and pain. Not so much through their bond but from the way she moved and the power she packed behind her flames to redirect and make a burst as big as him took a lot of energy and emotion. The emotions aside, thought the movements were much more shift, the girl seemed to underestimate the master of elements. As the flames came he merely took a breath and as he exhaled, a small gust of air blew the fire back at her; more as a distraction knowing her own flames would not harm her and walked through them and grasped her hand giving her a shift twist to control her wrist. "You seem distracted, little one." He said, again this time meaning to taunt her. The warrior placed a hand on her stomach and stated calmly. "Dead." He claimed as he released her hand giving her a shove. "Combinations, do you remember them? If you do use them with your fire."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The simple exhale was akin to a strong gust of wind, enough to intercept Joza’s flames as they circled towards @Jericho. Grunting in irritation, the pink Knight released her hold on the fire as she knew she would be unable to wrestle control from Jericho in time. Instead, she held up her arms in a cross pattern in front of her, using what was left of her concentration to ensure that the flames did not hurt her. The heat hadn’t even died away when Jericho emerged from what would soon be the aftermath, grabbing onto her wrist and twisting it in his grasp. Before she could counter, his other hand found its way to her torso.

“Dead.”

Stumbling back, the Zeltron quickly caught herself and tossed Jericho a look. Tisking, she ignited a small puff of flame to her knuckles. “Distracted…? That Sith witch is on my mind more than I thought she’d be…” Joza figured that the nightmare would be over once she’d left Briga’s grasp, that she’d somehow return to normal after being given her freedom. But the metaphorical shackles still remained, the pull of the dark side challenging everything she knew about being a Force user.

As she spoke, Joza would quickly jab towards Jericho’s head with her left hand, her right coming up to defend against any potential strike. A burst of flames would erupt from her left fist as she swung, before she suddenly dropped low in an attempt to sweep his legs with a trail of flames.

 

[Jericho]

Nightmares of the one that hurt you most....Jericho understood this feeling, the turmoil it caused and the pain if enclosed would erupt like a powerful volcano. It was a disturbing feeling, to say the least; though Jericho never would show it, the lorrdian sympathized with the young zeltron. The warrior looked into her eyes for a moment, seeing the glazed look she had at the mention of the witch that hurt her. It was as if she was drunk with hate, anger, and disparity whether she knew it or not. But her knowing would be the more likely case in the matter, it would be the path she takes that matters to the warrior. The path of self-destruction or that of another; The warrior was not a fortune teller, mind reader, nor seer of any kind so he could only hope that she choose the path that would not lead her to more pain through blind rage or blind faith. She was different from the little girl who got her nose broken from the training machine. She was a woman now. In those terms, he could only allow her to choose her own path and see if she grows entangled with him or her blood burns on his saber. With this thought in his mind, he remained silent on the matter and allowed her to speak more about it if she wished.

In her moves, she remained aggressive after the wrist lock and toss Jericho had done. As was the way of Stava and she was even able to combine her fire shaping with the movements of battle.Thought Jericho had not taught her to do so, a sense a pride took a slight hold of his being; only skilled shapers could possess such an adapted ability. It was obvious that [member="Joza Perl"] put a lot of time into her physical and elemental training to naturally do such a thing. On top of everything else, she remembered to keep her hands up after a jab and to keep low when facing and larger opponent. Jericho was impressed with the ever growing potential the young woman was showing and it actually triggered a response from the warrior. He chuckled during a sparring session something like this has never happened since the time of his first padawan, Emily Kao. Jericho leaned back to dodge her jab. He continued to use his space giving himself a tight limit of what space he could use did the same for her series of attack. After her combination of strikes that lead to the sweep, Jericho checked her thigh with his shin, a bright orange flame burst out showing his aim was not to hurt but counter.

"Good." Jericho started off. "As you know space is your friend when it comes to striking especially if you are able to use your flames in such an elegant way. Fire is like your saber, an extension of your arm. Use it wisely...But...." As Jericho spoke he once again grappled with her placing a hand on her shoulder and used superior weight and size to push her downward to the ground, his body close and tight to hers. His face looming over hers. "Space is not your friend when grappling. Be wary of whom to close in on when fighting." It was then he could feel it, from her smell, the intoxicating feeling from her aroma. Zeltrons. The warrior slowly got up, doing what he would normally do to hide the fact that her pheromones had taken a slight hold. The warrior backed away a few steps and took a breath of the hot air then shook his head not only pheromones now, through the connections of their bond and the essence of emotion that oozed when she used her flame. He could feel more of the connection with her. The warrior took in another breath to calm himself down and went into the stava fighting stance.

"Ready?" The warrior questioned the pink woman.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza arched a brow, thrown off my something as simple as Jericho chuckling. It dawned on her that she’d never actually heard him laugh before. Her nose wrinkled for a moment as if he were laughing at her, but she elected not to ask him and ignore it. And again, something as simple as praise was unexpected from the Lorrdian warrior. Perhaps she’d actually grown in skill? It had been a long time since they sparred together.

“Oof!” She grunted as he suddenly caught her in a grapple, glaring at him with mild intensity as his face hovered above her own. Joza was certainly not small for her species, nor was she a delicate flower, but Jericho far outmatched her in size and physical strength. As did many opponents of varying species. Continuing with the surprises, she raised both brows this time as she felt his focused demeanor waver. She watched him carefully as he released her and steadied himself, reading into her bond as he did so.

Joza did not reassume her fighting stance as he did, fixated on something more interesting at the moment. “What was that? You alright, [member="Jericho"]?” Her concern started out genuine, but a slow smile slid across her face. “I don’t make you sick, do I?”

 

[Jericho]

The warrior was not made of stone as many depicted him to be, he was just as similar as other sentient beings with the understanding of emotion that matched his cognitive thought. As a force user or more so a shapers, he understood the necessity of using those said emotions to an extent of empowering oneself with the force or a certain element. When Joza did go into her battle stance, she would feel Jericho's power of wind aimed to make her only hover and sweep her off her feet. "You don't Joza." The warrior stated calmly keep himself at a moderate distance from her now. It has been quite some time since he has been to Zeltros or Breanna, his tolerance for the pheromones had been lowered as he uses to keep himself relaxed consistently as to opposingly having other hobbies. "I am fine." Jericho stated once more a little more uncharacteristically of himself having replied to her small talk.

[member="Joza Perl"]