Blue Butterfly
Two blue blades clashed in one of the many training halls of the Coruscant Jedi Temple, a blur of motion as the fight’s tempo ramped up to a pace that would be considered ludicrous to most observers.
The whirring hydraulics of the training droid hummed to life with each movement, more and more audible with each passing second as it clashed with the broadsaber of the blue-haired young woman. Whereas the droid’s movements were precise and economical, hers were wide, kinetic, bearing a sense of artistry and grace that almost made her look like she was dancing as opposed to fighting.
Yet there was no mistake as to the effects of her strikes. The sweeping movements and wide flourishes were meant to batter the opponent, artfully applying as much brute force to her strikes as possible. There was an intensity in the way she moved that told any observer that this was no mere performance.
Most curious of all, though, was the fact that her eyes were closed. She dodged, weaved, parried and countered, all without seeing the droid before her…
To some, this might seem like some form of advanced training. To Arthion, however… it was almost therapeutic. Just her, her blade, her movements, and an opponent she could dance with. In her mind’s eye, her lightsaber was like a brush, the darkness around her the canvas, each strike colouring the world around her into a comprehensive picture: lights meshed with darks, serenity and turbulence met. It was her form of meditation, achieving a temporary sense of peace through conflict.
But then it stopped.
Why had it stopped? Had she missed a step? Did she err in her edge alignment?
Arthion would find her answer as soon as she opened her eyes, for she stared not at a training droid striking at her, but two halves of a bisected training droid now lying motionless on the ground, destroyed by her hand.
“… Shite.” She cursed under her breath, eyes darting to and fro. She truly hoped nobody had seen that…
Jonyna Si
The whirring hydraulics of the training droid hummed to life with each movement, more and more audible with each passing second as it clashed with the broadsaber of the blue-haired young woman. Whereas the droid’s movements were precise and economical, hers were wide, kinetic, bearing a sense of artistry and grace that almost made her look like she was dancing as opposed to fighting.
Yet there was no mistake as to the effects of her strikes. The sweeping movements and wide flourishes were meant to batter the opponent, artfully applying as much brute force to her strikes as possible. There was an intensity in the way she moved that told any observer that this was no mere performance.
Most curious of all, though, was the fact that her eyes were closed. She dodged, weaved, parried and countered, all without seeing the droid before her…
To some, this might seem like some form of advanced training. To Arthion, however… it was almost therapeutic. Just her, her blade, her movements, and an opponent she could dance with. In her mind’s eye, her lightsaber was like a brush, the darkness around her the canvas, each strike colouring the world around her into a comprehensive picture: lights meshed with darks, serenity and turbulence met. It was her form of meditation, achieving a temporary sense of peace through conflict.
But then it stopped.
Why had it stopped? Had she missed a step? Did she err in her edge alignment?
Arthion would find her answer as soon as she opened her eyes, for she stared not at a training droid striking at her, but two halves of a bisected training droid now lying motionless on the ground, destroyed by her hand.
“… Shite.” She cursed under her breath, eyes darting to and fro. She truly hoped nobody had seen that…
