Swordfighting wasn’t one of Kaiza’s hobbies per se, more like a necessity all Jedi had to come to terms with. Rating her skill with a lightsaber poorly due to the Padawan’s pacifistic tendencies would be a mistake, though. If anything, the yellow skinned student did not have to worry about picking the right form. It all came naturally. Better yet, as Fate would have it, she was to practice under an experienced Jedi today. The opportunity was most welcome and the Mirialan’s pace betrayed her eagerness to get started as she slipped into the training room, suddenly realizing her hair probably looked like a mess. One motion of her hand proved otherwise, declaring the raven black curls safely tied into a practical bun.
Removing the robe that was so impractical in combat, the young Padawan smiled at the instructor. Emerald jewels finally landed upon the confident and obviously strong pose her “opponent” had assumed. Although not worried, logically knowing there was no real threat or danger, Kaiza suddenly sensed the all too familiar pangs of anxiety. All eagerness went out of the window. Naturally uncomfortable in combat, she summoned a grin to mask her worries. Quick steps brought her closer, deep breaths saw her chest rise and fall, another attempt at erasing the inner imbalance that threatened to generate mistakes.
Calm, peace. Embracing those meant half the battle.
“Knight,” chirped the Padawan and thus broke the silence, standing at an arm’s length from her fellow Jedi, “Shall we get started?”
Gloved fingers curled around the silvery cylinder hanging on her belt and unclipped the traditional Jedi weapon. More deep breaths followed and she assumed the footing often found on Soresu practitioners, a dead giveaway. Her thumb hesitated still – igniting the weapon meant no going back and Kaiza took such things seriously, even during training spars.
[member="Charity Luckless"]