Duel Niman's Land

[Loske Treicolt]

The Force-animated droid clattered noisily to the ground, off to the right of Wyatt Morga . His movements managed to avoid its trajectory for the focus to remain between temporary teacher and honourary student. Loske had little time to feel frustrated about it, thought, iven the flashing movements of the brunette's handiwork. Seemed Ataru wasn't limited to personal flipping, but others as well! Loske a meow acrobatic demonstration of Rancor Rising.

The shift of strength and influence it had over her weight was surprising -- and brought back a flicker of flashbacks to the last time she'd disputed someone who else bore Iron Fists. Her heels slammed to the ground, and she stumbled forward, managing to catch herself before completely belly-flopping to the ground. While she stepped to recover, Wyatt was speaking again and levelling his weapon at her with unspoken triumph.

The only solace she could take at this point was that he had 149.5 years of additional practice on her.

Gleefully, she recognized the swift change of his form. It moved to something more elegant, and contained. There were subtle fluxes of his posture she classified as systematic to the explanation he'd delivered earlier.

She moved from her position once more, lunging forward with a simple jab which he batted away, and coming in to parry up and down to his exposed zones. Each time there was a gap, he filled it. The only seeming advantage she could detect was the unilateral back-and-forth line they managed to stay on while he manifested Makashi and she manifested..something. She couldn't quite get it together just yet. She dropped to her knees to avoid one of the strikes, dodging and quickly shifting her weight to cover her exposed self and striking out with a kick toward his ankle.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Once again, Wyatt fought back the urge leap from the strike. It was a good attack, low and well centered - and for most, it would have hit. He could feel that much through her intent, but where as it would have laid most soldiers on their back; Wyatt was a Jedi Master, specializing in physical combat, with the physique of an Olympian backed with a hundred and fifty years of experience in one thing alone.​

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But that wouldn’t stop him from taking the hit regardless. More than anything, Wyatt understood the importance of cultivating confidence - that just a touch, sprinkled in with the rest of his lessons would see Loske move ever forward; to see herself become the Jedi she needed to be. So he took the hit, full on and prepared; letting it sweep him from his feet and land heavy on his back.​

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He let out a hard ‘oof’, before laughing as he moved to sit.​

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“You’re getting better by the second, Loske.”, he mused.​

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“I imagine Cedric must be training you well.”, he offered as he slowly brought himself back to a stand, though he grunted as he did so. Not so much because he had to, but because it was cathartic, and never hurt to undersell his physical health.​

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Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

It would be a lie to say she didn't feel an ounce of pride at the blow that knocked Wyatt Morga to his backside. Quickly, she disengaged her blade and moved in with a hand offered to help him up, though he was fully capable of doing so himself.

"I'm a quick learner." She explained, which wasn't a falsehood. The more she rehearsed, the more these routines would trigger existing recollections, though, neither of her parents had the benefit of over a century and half dedicated to training. She was at a sore disadvantage chronologically. "And you're giving me the space to learn. So, thanks."

An appreciative smile was offered at him, while reaching up to wrangle a flyaway that had been nagging at her eyes for the last few seconds, and sweeping it back up into her ponytail.

"I guess I'd be the only evidence of good training or not." The girl mused, looking down at the hilt of her saber and turning it over in her hands a few times. "We haven't been contesting in duels that much, honestly." Pursing her lips, she wrestled with how much admittance should be shared between herself and this Master she was only meeting formally for the first time. "If at all. I just got this thing." Cedric was busy with the manifestation of his grand visions of The Imperium, and she was along for the ride while he worked to unlock what had been built into her.

"I'm only just coming to terms with The Force." She explained, giving way to some of her apprehension. "A lot of our time is trying to figure out what I know already, or don't know. Starting with the basics and getting a good foundation there." While she spoke, she made vague rolls with her wrist to show some sort of timeline.

With a smirk, she countered his age with her own. "Unlike you, I've just been doing this whole space wizard thing for a few months. Before that, I was a simple 'ol Pilot. Before that, test tube babe."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

“We all start somewhere, Loske.”, Wyatt mused as he quietly stretched what few muscles hadn’t been limbered up thus far. With a sigh, and a final stretch of his back, he glanced back to her -​

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“Even I was a Jedi of only a few months, once, and I wasn’t nearly as good as you then.”, he laughed.​

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That wasn’t much of a lie. In his earliest time as a Jedi, he was terrible at almost everything he did; and it took him many more years to get the basics than most. It was only after he had turned nearly 30, twenty years into his Jedi training, that he truly began to find himself the skill he had hoped for - barely a knight for almost a decade.​

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“Tell me though - about this ‘what you know’ thing.”, Wyatt asked inquisitively as he moved to sit one the ground, vaguely pretending he was tiring from their quick duels.​

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“Do you have amnesia or something?”​

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Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"I think I was supposed to be instantly better." Loske admitted, lowering her eyes to her hilt and circling her thumb around the toggle that would reignite the blade or not. The whole clone thing wasn't a commonly known fact about her, only shared amidst Cedric and...Isar, really. Even Kaili didn't know the full extend of her heritage.

Nevertheless, Loske was an open heart and open book, and someone who'd seen nearly two centuries of what the galaxy had to offer would likely be less phased and more helpful.

She felt awkward standing taller than him, but remained to shift her weight from side to side before clipping her hilt back to her belt. Wyatt Morga taking a seat pretty much meant this was turning into a dialogue, which she was game for. That meant talking! Might as well treat it as blasé as just facts, given it was likely the least interesting thing he'd ever heard. Unfortunately for the pair, this interaction was prior to the event she was planning to figure out one day on Kiffu, then she'd be able to tell a real full picture story.

"No, well, accidentally. Maybe intentionally, I'm supposed to be a clone of Kiskla Grayson and Marcello Matteo. Jedi Masters of The Republic. Me and my brother, Isar Kislo -- he's a Jedi Knight. Somehow he turned out to have all the Force genetics and mine were..I dunno." She shrugged, finally collapsing to sit with her palms behind her and legs outstretched, rocking her toes side to side like windshield wipers. "I get sporadic evidences of little things I can do, here and there, through memories and stuff. But can't figure out how to consistently trigger it -- that's what Cedric's helping me with. Forging my pact with The Force, so to speak. To trust it. I've always pushed it away and been pretty ignorant and unaccepting of the whole...Jedi thing. I was so jealous for such a long time and..ugh, it just felt so far away, and now that it's here it feels kinda surreal and not supposed to be and.."

She stopped and blinked.

"Sorry, that's a lot."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

“Oh.”, Wyatt said with a quiet, settled realization.​

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Perhaps thats why she was getting so much better, so much quicker. He considered to what degree she would know about forms like Vapaad if she was the physical clone of a Jedi Master - and a Grandmaster at that. With legs crossed, Wyatt shifted his legs as he glanced back to her, though didn’t show any disturbance to his peace.​

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“That isn’t a lot, Loske.”, Wyatt offered with a gentle smile.​

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“It’s just your life. I can’t hold that against you - especially if you want to talk about.”, he offered reassuringly.​

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Readjusting his position once more, he offered a quiet ‘hm’ in thought before glancing back to her;​

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“Have you done much in regards to meditation? Finding peace with the Force, finding a rock in it, could help you remember what your progenitor knew. I consider myself somewhat of an expert on it, in case you’d like to do it with me sometime.”, Wyatt laughed, though low, and more at himself than anything else.​

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Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Wyatt Morga 's simple acceptance was welcomed, and placid reaction mitigated any anomalies she may have been shy of.

"A few times, yeah, I could definitely get better at it, though." A wry grin cracked her lips and she drew her legs in to fold over one another, spending a second pushing her ankles over her shin for the ultimate pretzel. "Are you doing anything now? You cool to keep hanging out in here?

Because I'll be honest, Master Morga, the more you suggest you can teach, the more I'll be eagerly accepting. There's a lot I don't know."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

“Of course, Loske.”, Wyatt smiled in response.​

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The Jedi Master could appreciate her subtle nods to his teachings, and was more than willing to impart more since she seemed receptive. With a silent readjustment of his position, he straightened his back and slowed his breathing;​

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“You know more than you think. Together, we can get that back.”, he reassured.​

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“Close your eyes, Loske. Abandon your senses. Find the Force, and try and understand what it wants you to understand.”​

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With that, Wyatt began a slow, sturdy rise of his being into the air as his own eyes closed. The levitation was perhaps a high level meditation technique for the uninitiated, but it helped to remove the sensation of the floor. In an odd way, it was like a sensory deprivation chamber - only helping to isolate the Force in their consciousness.​

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Breathing ever slower, Wyatt sat on the precipice of a deeper meditation, monitoring Loske for her progress.​

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Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske hadn't closed her eyes before Wyatt Morga demonstrated levitation. Her brow quirked, a fascinated stare affixing on his floating form. Her index jut out, and motioned up and down to represent the distance between his legs and the floor on a smaller scale.

Coloured impressed, she tilted her head. His eyes were closed now, so she assumed he couldn't see her curious reaction; perhaps he could feel it. Still, she felt the need to announce it before she delved into any sort of meditative trance.

"How are you floating?"

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt didn’t have to open his eyes, as he felt the girl’s hand wave about trying to figure it out. He smiled softly, already knowing Loske very likely understood how - and so he kept his eyes closed, and he remained floating. He wanted to see how easily she would end up in a state like this -​

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“Close your eyes and try.”, he offered simply.​

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“When you let go of your identity, and become one with the Force; it will come naturally. For you more than others, I imagine.”​

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Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Embarrassing. Right. Just close the damn eyes and think about the void of existentialism.

When Wyatt Morga could have chided her incessant curiosity, he allowed her the grace of expanding his explanation to compensate. The idea of sacrificing her identity was an interesting concept for her. For a year or so with The Alliance, she'd managed to forge her own as a Rogue Pilot. Then had come that super fun and not at all awkward meeting on Sullust where she'd been informed her identity had been forged on her behalf. One that paralleled who she'd chosen to be.

She supposed she'd have to leave both of them splayed on the floor, and come to terms with whatever the void was. Tython's Forge had been curious of her intentions, and what she sought along the Jedi path, and honestly, so was she.

"Right, sorry." Loske murmured, sealing her gaze from the physical world. Behind violet curtains, darkness greeted her and she exhaled heavily. The breath extended down her chin and flooded the immediate space in front of her, giving back to the pool of oxygen that was eternally available. She focused on that trajectory as her first step to self-awareness. Her occupied area relative to the gargantuan stretch of life around her in the concrete room.

Not isolated in existence, she was pretty quick to detect Master Morga's stalwart position in the metaphysical realm. His silhouette a brighter glow than the tempestuous outline of her own. On Tython, she'd learned she was never alone. The Force was omnipresent. It was still a weapon she had access to as she demanded it.

She tried to float.

It rejected the sentiment.

She frowned.

There were a handful of minutes that passed while Loske sat there, frowning deeply until she relaxed her face and stopped pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. With the release of pressure, she almost leaned back fully into the cushion of the metaphysical. It wasn't her weapon, she was it's. Despite the impure creation, she was still natural, coexisting with the other natural ebb and flow in the room. A relationship of mutual give and take.

She tried to float.

She remained on the ground.