Potential Unrealized


Well, it had taken three days and several missteps, but Astri had finally found the training rooms.
She tiptoed her way in, hoping to avoid disturbing anyone. She wasn't really here to train, not yet... but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Most people she knew back home probably would have revered this room. For her people, sparring was the greatest form of self expression—more clear, more intimate, and more honest than any other way of communicating. But to Astri, fighting had always fallen short as a way to express herself... and she had fallen short too.
She found herself approaching a rack of bokken up against a wall. Practice blades—probably ornamental and decorative, as most Jedi she'd seen exercising used training sabers. Her fingers lifted one off the rack anyways, admiring the polished wood with a frown on her face. Why couldn't she fit the norm for her people: confident and a capable warrior? Why did she have to be... this? Bookish, and afraid, and... whatever the opposite of a warrior was?
Mom had been what an Echani ought to be. And a Jedi on top of that. If Astri couldn't even manage the former, how was she supposed to achieve the latter?
Quietly, she placed the bokken back on the rack. She probably wasn't supposed to touch it anyways. Then, she turned for the door.