Kyrinov
][ A B S O L U T I O N ][

Bastion
Sith Academy on Bastion
Library under the Academy

Bastion, much like Korriban and Dromund Kaas, was a world which could rightly be called a Sith World. It was theirs, this radiating Dark Side energy pulsing in the sandy hills of the planet, whispering to those with the will to listen to its beckoning call and settling a seed of inhibition in those who would steer clear of its path entirely. However, the energy here was a mere peck compared to the raw power contained within Korriban. Nonetheless, the Academy here was excelllent. An epitome of Sith learning and the vast knowledge of Lords past and present. The library underneath the Academy was dark, shadowed by stories of the past, accounts of time and time again when various Sith Empires and Orders fell and rose anew from the ashes as a brilliant Dark phoenix. Scrolls and thousands upon thousands of various other manuscripts full of tales of a time when the Sith were far stronger than they were now, closer to their teachings, more apt to the glory and power some Sith still sought vainly for. Books full of instructions on lightsaber combat, the evolution of sabers, the inticate and delicate patterns through which history shaped the both the galaxy around them and the choices of all sentiment beings within it. The usual fluorescent, sickly green lanterns were off, leaving the massive space in near complete darkness, save for a single lantern which gave a small area light. The dark is comforting here, generous even. Here, in the utter silence of night. The light from upper levels and several windows dim to the point of being mistaken as non-existent. The air was damp and stale in this room, the staleness due to the ancient texts stored and preserved within miles of tall, grey bookshelves which stretched to the durasteel ceiling. There seemed to be hardly any oxygen this far down, the atmosphere stabilized by machinery which made the lack of air just endurable enough to be called inhabitable.
The pressure here was immense, compressed by hundreds of feet of sandy brown rock, the imposing Academy, and the hundreds of inhabitants within the edifice. The atmospheric pressure was simply horrible, causing Acolytes to spend only an hour or two in the library at a time.Activity of the other Acolytes was down to a minimum, most preferring to sleep during the night hours. Though, they couldn't exactly be blamed for their fatigue. By now, simply descending the flights of steps to reach the library foreshadowed the environment one was only steps from entering. With the combination of the artificial oxygen and the pressure that weighed upon one's shoulder like a yoke they were not built to carry, the archive could only be described as an intolerable yet educational and necessary step of learning and growing.
To Tevro, however, it was the perfect place to meditate, study, and conduct his own private drills away from the bustle of the collective groups of Acolytes. There, he would often be found studying texts that dated back into the Old Republic era and even as far back as the Ancient Sith Purebloods who called Korriban home, from Darth Krayt to King Adas. Other times he could be heard and seen practicing lightsaber drills with the purple lightsaber he kept on his person at all times, stepping through movement after movement dozens of times to commit each flinch, each step, each swing, and each breath to muscle memory.
Tonight. however, the blind Zabrak was meditating near the back of the library, a lone green latern to light the vast setting. The shadows enveloped his kneeling, cloaked figure in a waiting maw of endless darkness, threatening to consume him from all angles. The air around him was terribly cold, sending chills down his spine which attempted to jeopardize his keen focus. He felt as though he could not breathe, every breath scraping at nerves already raw. Each breath held to the point of absolute, agonizing tension before being slowly exhaled over the period of a few seconds.
His knees dug into the unforgiving stone floor beneath him, muscles tense and screaming for release. Screaming for a bit of relaxation, of the gentle, comforting ease of rest. He knelt instead of sitting in a lotus position for meditation because it allowed him to focus more, allowed him to remain self-aware.
'Do not move,' he told himself. 'Feel it, the pain. Let it become your secondary focus, let it guide you, but never drive you to the point where you become mindless. Focus and let it fade into the back of your mind. Allow it to sink in and become but a memory.'
Once he allowed this to occur, he felt everything around him clearer, details sharpening to a lethal point. Though his eyes were closed softly and unseeing by natural means, the Force Sight he employed permitted him to see down the various rows of shelves around him. If he were to turn his head, he could even see the library entrance. But still, he pushed his knees further into the floor, leaning forward slightly, allowing himself to think and feel, and only those two principles governed him within that moment.
[member="Adrian Vandiir"]