Private The Pursuit of Truth

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

They hadn't spoken much since their mutual arrival on the small Nabooian transport. Brandyn had given a few small instructions about stowing gear and getting settled in within the tiny confines of the sleeping quarters. Shared sleeping quarters.

Brandyn had gone to talk to the pilot, an older Nabooian who seemed happy to have a relatively simple role in the mission. The pilot, Navas Sha, seemed like a good sort. His greying temples, red and grey speckled black beard and crows feet gave him the appearance of a man that had seen many things. If he had lived through the cataclysm then there was no doubting this. Brandyn did seem to note that maybe he had some ancestry that was not entirely human, but that conversation would have to take place at a seperate time. Right now, he needed to be in the small cargo area where he had asked Lysander to meet him.

He was still not convinced he was the right guy for the job of teaching, but he trusted Briana's wisdom in this matter. Besides, she was too busy dealing with everything else. He needed to talk to Cybelle again about her taking someone on. Compared to him, she was practically designed from the ground up to be the perfect teacher. Brandyn on the other hand was like a series of hard knock lessons cobbled into a barely functioning adult.

"Ah. Good. You are here," he said upon entering the small cargo room. I had been cleared of all crates and obstacles, making for a respectably sized training room.

"Junction Station is a bit of hike from Naboo. So we will get your training started while we are en route," he said, face asking if there were any issues this arrangement.

Brandyn's heart did thump a little. How Lysander would respond to him would be critical for his success as a master. He probably should have been thinking more of his student...but nerves.

He walked to the corner of the room, spun about and leaned on the wall with his arm's crossed. A moment passed before her did a small wave with his left hand. "Well...come on then...show me what you have got," he said, with a purposely impatient tone laced through his words. Test number one.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

Lysander took a deep breath. The small space was hardly comforting, but it would be home for part of this mission. Organizing his belongings, he already found clarity in everything that would be required of him. He had spent the morning meditating on recent events— every decision made was present, along with the consequences that followed. They were all pieces of a much larger puzzle he sought to better understand; still, it enough to bring forth newfound clarity. Any anxiety was untangled.

Later, he stood still as a statue in another room. The Padawan felt anticipation thrumming deep in his core. The cargo area crackled with both a palpable and foreign energy; he felt different in the presence of Brandyn. There was a pressure that seemed to urge him to prove himself. What skill could he possibly demonstrate that would impress him?

Exhaling another breath, Lysander let the Force flow through him; the current situation allowed memories of his recent training session at the enclave to resurface. He remembered the last Force Push, executed in a moment of complete frustration, resulting in a rather reckless display as he wished to see the Lovalla sent tumbling from the Gallo Mountains.

Meeting Brandyn's gaze, Lysander noted the anticipation. With a sudden burst of determination, he moved into action. His mind centered and focused intently on the currents around him. Instead of attempting another Force Push, he decided to display something different: telekinesis.

His pursed lips were intentional; words would be limited unless called for.

The boy reached out with the Force, his eyes narrowing as he honed in on a large crate. Slowly, it lifted into the air, hovering off the ground. He sensed its weight in his mind. Harnessing his power, he spun the crate in a way that spoke of his control and finesse.

Empowerment filled him. The Padawan then extended his other arm, reaching out to a collection of smaller crates. They easily responded to the pull. One by one, they began orbiting around the larger crate. Unconsciously, he found himself searching for approval, though he was smiling inwardly.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He didn't budge, save for a slight turn down of his mouth as he watched. It was about the norm for someone at Lysander's level of training. Though the young man added his own flourishes to it, Brandyn could see his personality already in the way his hands moved. He was well trained, from a young age, not in the Force necessarily but in etiquette. His hands moved in a refined manner, less like the more natural flow of those that grew up closer to the streets.

"Good," he said, with a neutral inflection.

"You can put them back now," Brandyn said as he pushed off, "use the Force."

It was one thing to take organisation and break it down into disorganised flotsam orbiting larger flotsam. It was another thing to put them back in their organised places. That would be a far greater test of where he was at.

As Lysander set about in his reply, Brandyn unleashed what amounted to a verbal stream of consciousness.

"Lightsabers...telekinesis...the light side...the dark side...telepathy...healing...Zaiya Ceti ...mind tricks...speed enhancement...visions...there is so much to learn about the Force and how it can be used..."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

With Master Brandyn's next comment, he wasted no time in reaching out with his mind, attempting to solidify a connection with the crates. The movements were smooth at first, as if he had practiced them countless times, a reflection of the Padawan's training. However, as he began to focus on returning them to their original place, he quickly realized the process wasn't as easy as anticipated.

It required more precision. With a few changes during his intense concentration, with each object grasped by the mind’s eye, his control tightened. The balance was challenging, and unfortunately, it didn’t take much for his focus to be affected. One by one, they eventually returned with the clatter of metal echoing off the walls around them.

Lysander’s full attention then shifted to Brandyn. “My skills feel..limited. My journey as a padawan started later than most, and sometimes it feels like I'm racing against a clock to try and catch up,” he said. The teen's shoulders squared as words spilled forth; there wasn’t a single hint of doubt in his confession.

His upbringing warned him of showing too much too soon, but this felt different, as this person would be a direct teacher. “Above everything,” he continued, gazing ahead, “I’m most intrigued by lightsaber combat, and I yearn to master its elegance.” The boy’s expression was firm, and his chin tilted just slightly. “But it feels like it’s becoming a dying art as this age only cares about flashy tricks. Unfortunately.. it leaves me at a big disadvantage.”

Silence fell over him as he reflected on the Lovalla next. Any surprise was masked, attempting to exude a calmer demeanor. Lysander also hoped to sound.. more knowledgeable now than he so often did in the presence of peers. Another moment passed as his jaw tightened. “Zaiya..” he started, not even liking the way her name rolled off his tongue. “She and I.. we’ve never established good rapport since our first meeting. I don’t care anything about her.” He gave a subtle shake of his head.

A blonde lock of hair was pushed back from his forehead. “And if I’m being pragmatic,” he continued, the tone taking an edge now, “there’s really no need for us to have any form of relationship beyond our work or a shared goal. Frankly, I don’t trust her.” The boy’s brows furrowed. “My trust is a luxury, something I actually value. Maybe on Coruscant it is given freely, but with me, it has to be earned. I am not the same as my sister."

​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

"I started when I was 16...almost 17," Brandyn said with a dismissive wave. It wasn't meant to put down the Padawan's fears, but there really was no need to complain about missed time or opportunities.

Brandyn nodded with a sense of satisfaction at seeing the eventual precision that Lysander had in returning the crates. It was not perfection, but neither had he settled for a job half done. At least he was not lazy. That was something Brandyn was unsure he would be able to train out of someone.

His heart did sink a little with Lysander's desire to master the lightsaber. This was far from Brandyn's expertise, but he had a sister and a cousin that could fill in the cracks where needed. For now, he simply nodded to acknowledge he heard Lysander's request, and he fought to hide his own insecurities over the matter.

At the frank discussion of his antagonistic relationship with Zaiya, Brandyn could only raise an eyebrow. It was more extreme a statement than he had imagined. In fact, he half expected an admission of misguided affection. This would have kept in line with some of the rumours he had heard, though those were primarily from Cerys.

"Do you have your own lightsaber?" Brandyn said, while approaching a cache of training weapons, "or shall I get one of the training weapons?"

Once he had confidence in Lysander's possession of a weapon, Brandyn unclipped his own from his belt. "Zaiya Ceti is a distraction. Whatever the reason it is for your antagonism towards her, you must be mindful of how the dark side can prey on this weakness."

Hypocrite.

The inner voice was drowned out by the sound of his lightsaber igniting and the humming in the air. He focused on is emerald-green aura for a moment before speaking again.

"Despite what you say of trust. You must not allow your feelings towards her to cloud your judgment. Any area of weakness is an area that can be exploited by your enemies."

Taking the classic ready position of all famous Jedi holo-films, Brandyn nodded to Lysander to be ready. "Shii-cho...show me what you've got..."

Before even finishing his sentence, Brandyn had stepped forward giving a one-two swipe across Lysander's midsection.

"Your sister...the one with the big scar?" He said, teasing with the hope of distracting.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

Lysander quickly acknowledged Bran’s dismissal of the worries with a casual nod. Warmth bloomed in the boy's chest at the thought of his Master starting later than him– it felt like a small victory in the grand scheme of things. And while he didn’t express any joy, the approval that came with putting the crates away was still meaningful; the grind of working hard was something he actually valued, even if most only saw him to be the goofy guy. "I do have my own," he murmured, the words slipping from his lips. It was then he realized the curved hilt was partially hidden beneath his cloak. Without any further hesitation, it was unclasped and ignited; a vibrant purple glow radiated in the space around him. But the familiar thrill of dueling came to a halt as the conversation was redirected to discussing the Lovalla. Still, he found the more serious discussion a welcome respite from the levity that so often hung in the air around friends. There was certain..cognitive engagement to it that he actually craved.

“I understand, Master,” he started, twisting his torso several times before stepping off to the side so that he might gauge the man’s body language. “I’m just skeptical of who I allow into my..tribe, if you will. She doesn’t bring anything positive to my life. Our interactions are always draining, and it’s only around her that I begin to feel these more negative emotions.” His voice was steady. “I spent a great deal of time learning about the importance of meaningful relationships on Ukatis under my father's aide, and I believe it’s better to keep my distance whenever possible.”

As Bran transitioned into the Shii-Cho form, he had a quick intake of breath, mirroring him, and finding his own foot stance widening. Before being able to respond to the next comment, the first strike was swiftly delivered. Instincts kicked in, and the teen parried the swipe, allowing their blades to echo through the room. He started to put his guard up again. The unexpected banter brought a grin to his lips. "Yeah, a big scar to match the big forehead that's always processing some kind of criticism towards me," he retorted at last.

Energy flowed through Lysander— now it was his turn! Fluidly shifting from defense to offense, his own attack was initiated. The blade cut through the air like a wave, sweeping low towards Bran’s legs. It was a more tactical maneuver, one often used to study an opponent’s footwork for flaws; however, he didn’t expect to find any in the figure before him.