Ko Vuto
Braze's small figure cut a solitary silhouette against the vastness of the desert, his face marred by a frown of deep disappointment.
Braze's shoulders slumped as he watched the sky, his expectations dashed by the gentle rain that fell where he had hoped for a tempest. The Stormforged Wrath was supposed to be his grand achievement, a symbol of his prowess and skill. Instead, he felt as if he had conjured little more than a gardener's sprinkle.
He let out a slow uneven sigh feeling the absence of the Emerald Tide Kyber crystal more profoundly in this moment ; once his anchor and source of confidence, was a now a void he felt with every attempt at harnessing the Force. The crystal, was now tainted and in the hands of
Aliris Tremiru
. The loss of the precious little gem was something he’d been trying to mask for some time but it had left him feeling exposed, raw—stripped of the armor he didn't realize he had worn until it was gone. His true arrogance and pride had been wounded with this failure.
"It's not fair," he muttered, the words barely audible over the rain's soft patter. His boots began to trudge back and forth across the sand, each step punctuated with a simmering of discontent.
He had sought to summon the Stormforged Wrath, to call forth a tempest that would prove he didn't need the crystal to be powerful, to be worthy. But as the rain fell in gentle sheets, his grand vision unfulfilled, Braze couldn't help the petulant outburst that escaped his lips, "This isn't enough," he grumbled, the words lost to the wind and water.
The rain grew heavier, and Braze's pacing quickened. He became drenched by the unrelenting downpour. His robes, too, were sodden, clinging to his frame, making each movement Weighed down.
As the water continued to seep through and soak him he shook his head, there was inner turmoil, his mind a whirlwind of self-doubt and stubborn pride. However, the desert around him, so often a landscape of unchanging dryness, now bore the mark of his efforts—a change, however slight.
As he moved, the rain gathered in the creases of his robes, the droplets coalescing and streaming down in rivulets that mirrored the paths of his thoughts. He was alone, without the crystal's comfort, without the surety it lent him. Yet, the rain continued, indifferent to his frustration, a natural force that he had called upon and bent to his will.
. “Wow, that’s better than I expected.”
He halted, his eyes tracing the path of the water as it soaked into the thirsty earth, giving life to the lifeless. there was a shift in perspective as Ko’s words reached him. Braze felt the weight of his own expectations lift, replaced by a grudging acceptance. He had envisioned a typhoon, a demonstration of raw power. Instead, he had brought rain to the desert. It was not the victory he had imagined, but it was not in fact a defeat either.
Braze's hands, once balled into fists of vexation, now rested open. He turned his palms upwards to the sky. He was raw, yes, and stripped of the crystal's influence, but he was also himself—just Braze, no artifices, no crutches. And Braze had made it rain.
The realization settled upon him, quiet and profound. Without the Emerald Tide, he had felt diminished, but perhaps he had also been freed. Freed to fail, to succeed, to grow. The rain, modest as it was, was his doing, and his alone. It was a whisper of potential, a promise that he could be more than the sum of his fears and doubts.
The rain was not the Stormforged Wrath, but it was a beginning. And in the desert, beginnings were everything.
Braze had stopped moving falling still,he was a statue, a figure frozen in time. Slowly the tension began to ebb from his body. He blinked away the rain from his lashes and took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs and calming his stormy temperament.
In truth he wanted to use this as an opportunity, he had wanted to prove himself, to show that he was more than just a child playing at being a Jedi. But as he stood there, soaked to the bone, he couldn't deny the truth that whispered with each drop that fell from the heavens.
He had made it rain.
In the desert, where water was more precious than gold, he had drawn forth life from the sky. It was a small victory, perhaps, but it was truly and certainly his. A smile cracked the stern facade he had held, and he laughed—a short, disbelieving sound that was swept away by the wind.
Braze extended his arms, palms up, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to just feel the rain, to really feel it. Each drop was a word in the language of the Force, and he was beginning to understand the conversation. Mastery wasn't just about power; it was about perspective.
As the rain soaked him to his core, Braze realized that sometimes, the smallest acts of the Force were the most profound. He had set out to create a storm, but perhaps the true storm was the one he had weathered within himself.
Laughing with almost manic glee he fell backwards and just plopped down against the wet earth staring up in to the rain clouds over head and taking a few exhilarating breaths.
