NightSister
Animus
"Don't go," the woman said, looking tearfully upon the her.
"I'm sorry, mother, but there's nothing left for me here. I'll come back, I promise." Even through her tears, Aria was adamant.
"But when? As who?"
"Mother-"
Aria woke with a start. In her mind's eye, Kandra Vale was still there, begging her foster daughter to stay on Eshan. That was nine times now, since she had come to Voss, that she'd been haunted with the day she'd left Eshan. Every other time, she had resorted to more training as a way to shake it off, and this time would be no different. She pulled on black combat trousers and a black tank top, strapped her lightsaber to her hip, and picking up her boots, she crept out of the dormitory to the nearest training chamber.
Once she was there, she switched on her blade and began practising motions, incorporating all the fighting styles she'd learnt across the years into the smooth, fluid movements of the dance that was battle. The faceless enemy she envisioned as she moved would likely be long dead, but fighting without a partner was rarely useful. She kept going, trying to find weaknesses in her footsteps, waiting for the sun to rise or for somebody else to show up.
"I'm sorry, mother, but there's nothing left for me here. I'll come back, I promise." Even through her tears, Aria was adamant.
"But when? As who?"
"Mother-"
Aria woke with a start. In her mind's eye, Kandra Vale was still there, begging her foster daughter to stay on Eshan. That was nine times now, since she had come to Voss, that she'd been haunted with the day she'd left Eshan. Every other time, she had resorted to more training as a way to shake it off, and this time would be no different. She pulled on black combat trousers and a black tank top, strapped her lightsaber to her hip, and picking up her boots, she crept out of the dormitory to the nearest training chamber.
Once she was there, she switched on her blade and began practising motions, incorporating all the fighting styles she'd learnt across the years into the smooth, fluid movements of the dance that was battle. The faceless enemy she envisioned as she moved would likely be long dead, but fighting without a partner was rarely useful. She kept going, trying to find weaknesses in her footsteps, waiting for the sun to rise or for somebody else to show up.