Varin Mortifer
Damned
Nyara Dakhan
Varin made his way out of the academy towards the gym. It wasn’t for lifting weights for this run. He would rather have a lifting partner for that. Today was for a different exercise. He needed space to practice his forms, several times already he had almost destroyed his room while practicing and he had decided it was time to actually get out and stop being recluse. “Touch grass” as the kids call it. He didn’t bring music so he could pay attention to his surroundings more during his practices. He was bound and determined to start making his own style melding the three styles he had mastered already before crashing into this planet. He would meld Djem so with soresu and Vaapad. Patience with overwhelming aggression. Not always a typical sith style but Varin could not deny its effectiveness.
Leaving his sith blade in his workout bag it would be his main tool for the day. A few hours with a familiar friend, probably his closest friend he will ever have. He stopped in front of the building studying the front, inside he could see several individuals getting their exercises in, some are more distracted with mirrors than others. He could see a lot of people wore more form fitting attire, It caused Varin to look at his own dress up and wonder if he underdressed or even overdressed in his loose fitting sweatshirt and lounge pants tucked into his combat boots.
“Eh, it shouldn’t matter.” He spoke to himself as he made his way into the building. Everything was electric in the air. The scent, the energy and the people all doing what they could for various improvements, it was infectious, and Varin welcomed it as he made his way to the back in a more open room with a practice dummy.
He sat his bag down and knelt beside it pulling out his weapon of choice. Sure they might have practice weapons, but the familiarity of your own weapons feel, weight and balance mean everything. He held the sheath in both hands in vertical fashion admiring the art and its origin. Giving a soft sigh he says a soft prayer in Ur-Kittat and slowly unsheathes the blade, admiring its runic inscriptions.
He takes up his form breathing deep and slowly with his eyes closed and begins his fluid form practices of each style he had mastered, one at a time.