The light was bright, cutting through the protective veil she wore over her face. Her driver had given it to her in Anchorhead, and she had been suspicious for a moment, wondering if he had designs on blinding and robbing her, or worse. But she was semi-confident that she could monitor him with the Force and, in a more practical consideration, didn't really want sand kicked up into her eyes. Still, keeping the veil from flapping in her face from the strong winds created by the speeder took a good bit of Force concentration, and she was proud of the degree to which she was using her fledgling skills.
She kept her eyes open, looking at the rough weave of the opaque cloth over her face, breathing in the hot air of Tatooine, the planet of legend, the planet of drudgery. For a place so well-known, and practically celebrated through most of the galaxy, it was, as it always had been: brown, hot, bright, and rough.
It seemed strange that she would find her Jedi Master here, but she supposed it had to do with her Master's late husband. This was, after all, his home planet and he was half of the reason the planet was looked upon with so much interest. The interest seemed to go unanswered, however. Tatooine was only for the hardiest of individuals, and most of the curious lacked the fortitude and were not willing to risk the twin suns, the sand, or the locals just to satisfy their morbid curiosities.
Sitting back, she called gently on the Force, pulling it towards her before projecting outwards, while still managing to split her concentration enough to hold her veil. She felt her driver's faint displeasure at escorting her to her location, probably out of his way, and a sense of mischief, as if perhaps he planned to haggle the price they had negotiated. Quickly squashing a half-smile that wouldn't have been seen anyway, she continued with her self-imposed exercise, sensing outwards over the sand dunes and rocky outcroppings, feeling the Force signatures of millions of creatures, large and small, that roamed over the land.
But nowhere did she sense her soon-to-be Master's signature. It was just as well; her Master probably preferred to remain shielded, though there were few on planet to notice her in the Force.
It was at that moment that her driver's senses shifted, and she startled, realizing they must have arrived at their destination. Her blood thrummed in anticipation, and she threw back her borrowed veil impatiently. She squinted through the dazzling light at a small building set into the side of an outcropping of stone, and took a deep, slow breath.
Here, she would meet her Master.
.
.
She took her driver's proffered hand and dismounted the speeder, looking up into the darkened doorway of her Master's home. For a moment, she stood still and unsure. Should she remain outside, unannounced, and wait for the Master to appear in the doorway? Should she project outwards with the Force? Was this her first test?
Undecided, she turned towards the driver, as if he might have an answer.
He shook his head, sun-bleached hair whipping across his eyes. "I only see the lady once a month when I bring supplies. I've already seen her this month." He turned and looked at the house as well, before squinting at her in the bright light. "Are you going to pay me?" he asked, before nodding towards the house. "Or is she?"
"I am," she answered, pulling out the appropriate amount of credits, and waiting for the haggling to begin. The driver opened his mouth, as if to retort but frowned instead, muttering to himself, as he jumped back up into his speeder.
"See ya in a month," he said, turning the engine over, readying to take off.
"Wait!" she called, remembering the piece of cloth she had clutched in her hand. "Your veil."
The driver shook his head again and grinned at her somewhat crookedly, his eyes glittering attractively. "It ain't mine," he answered, and sped off.
Left alone, holding the veil in confusion, she sighed. She looked around at the empty horizon, stretching as far as she could see. She was anxious to go inside and meet her Master, but part of her wished to remain out-of-doors, alone, cut off, and safe. The path of a Jedi Knight was not an easy one, and somehow it almost seemed preferential to remain in the bright light and heat than to enter into the darkened and cool home to begin her training.
Hesitantly entering the dim doorway, she called out a cautious greeting. Receiving no answering welcome or reply, she kept walking down into the depths of the house, shivering as the cool air quickly penetrated her suns-warmed skin.
She finally entered what appeared to be the main room of the house and squashed a small burst of fear, wondering if perhaps she had been driven to the wrong dwelling and that she was, in fact, trespassing. The room was partitioned into four quarters. Three areas she could not see, but the main section of the room appeared to be a sitting area, and in this area sat a woman, completely still, with her eyes closed.
Her hair, no longer the brilliant red-gold that had undoubtedly earned her many lingering stares in her youth, was braided, the color faded to a dull yellow, streaked liberally with white. Only a fair few red strands remained. Her face was lined and drawn, thin lips settled into a straight line.
"Hello, Master Skywalker?" she asked, fearful of waking the Master from sleep.
She received no response and tensed. No one was quite sure of Master Skywalker's age, and as her husband had died ten standard years before at the age of ninety-six, people assumed Mara Jade Skywalker to be over one-hundred standard years old.
She panicked, projecting out through the Force. What if she had come all this way only to find the Master dead? Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She began to move forward, when a small half-smile appeared on the older woman's wrinkled visage.
Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker opened her green eyes, only slightly filmed with age. "I'm not dead quite yet," she said, her voice croaking from misuse. She lifted a hand to her forehead and tapped it. "First item of business, then. Broadcasting."
She blinked. "Broadcasting?" she repeated, feeling small and silly, standing there holding her travel-case in one hand and the veil in the other.
Master Skywalker nodded, gesturing for her to set her things down and to take a seat on a bench that ran the length of the partitioned wall behind her. "We'll work on your broadcasting first, then your shielding techniques-though those really go hand in hand."
Her eyes widened. "Shielding and broadcasting?" This was not how she had expected to begin her apprenticeship.
The aged Master stood. "Yes," she said, moving slowly, yet somehow surely, across the smoothed floor towards her. "We'll work on shielding and broadcasting first so I won't hear all your thoughts." The Master stood in front of her, reaching out to take the veil she still held in her hand. She looked at it for a moment, before smiling a smile that made her very nervous, for it looked far too mischievous for the wizened face that made it. "Once we've worked on that, we'll work on your attitude towards the Force," Master Skywalker said, folding the veil almost fondly in her hand. "After all, it seems I'm good at expounding upon that lesson."
Attitude towards the Force? She frowned, and looked away from the knowing smile that graced her new Master's face.
For, if anything, it seemed that she was not the one with the attitude.
.
.
"Tell me about yourself," Master Skywalker said, later, after having shown her to the sleeping area, cordoned off by one of the partitions.
They were sitting down to a light evening meal, and she was beginning to feel the weight of the walls pressing in upon her, the reality setting in that she was in a strange place, with a woman of legend, picking at food she wasn't sure she could stomach.
"Oh," she answered, looking up from her plate. "Well, my name is Metarie Vionnu. Umm..." she stalled, thinking of what to tell her Master of herself. These conversations had flowed much easier in her head, where she would impress her Master with her knowledge of the Force and her eloquence of speech. "I'm from Coruscant, the first Force sensitive in my family that we know of. Master Solo-Fel selected me to be your apprentice after training me herself for two years. Her daughter's child fell ill and she had to let me go, in order to be with them. She said she was sending me to the Jedi Master who had trained her, because I reminded her a bit of herself at my age."
Master Skywalker nodded. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen standard years," Metarie answered.
The almost familiar half-smile appeared on the Master's face. "I was twice your age plus some before I became a Jedi," she said, as her eyes took on a faraway look. "Twice your age and more before I truly began to understand my life..." she trailed off, and Metarie wondered if she was thinking of her late husband.
It had been a vague disappointment to Metarie when she had finally taken a moment to look around the home, and had found no sign of the other Master Skywalker. She hadn't expected a shrine, but perhaps a holo, or his lightsaber, or maybe even a cloak laid over a chair in remembrance. There was a small holo of young Master Skywalker and his family on a table next to the chair her new Master had been sitting in when she arrived. But other than that the furnishings were spare, almost utilitarian, save for the shades of pale green that decorated the home.
After a moment Master Skywalker shook her head, as if shaking off a vision, and looked down towards Metarie's plate. "Have you finished?"
Metarie nodded and stood to help tidy up. "Will we start on shielding tonight?"
Master Skywalker looked at her. "Do you dream?"
Metarie nodded that she did.
Master Skywalker pursed her lips. "Then, yes. We begin tonight."
.
.
They worked on broadcasting and shielding, and once Metarie had the hang of it, they moved on to other subjects. The days took on a routine quickly. Metarie sensed that her Master thrived on a schedule.
Metarie would rise in the mornings to find Master Skywalker already awake and finished with her breakfast. Then her Master would meditate as Metarie had her own meal and wash time, and afterwards Metarie would join her in meditation.
In the late mornings, Master Skywalker would teach her fighting techniques and how to refine her saber style. At her advanced age, the Master couldn't spar with her as she once could, though she was far from an invalid. But mostly she used Force manipulations to show her those techniques, though they did have one short duel between the two of them, before the suns had risen and made the day too hot for the elderly woman to be out-of-doors.
The Master often told tales of her youth, times when her lightsaber or her skills in hand-to-hand combat had gotten her out of some rough situation or another. Metarie listened eagerly and hoped to learn from her example.
In the early afternoon they would break for a meal, and Master Skywalker would rest behind her partition, before waking and taking up the mid and late afternoon lessons. It was in these lessons that they would speak upon the nature of the Force and the Jedi's place within the ancient power.
The evening hours were not filled with lessons, for every evening after their last meal, Master Skywalker would leave the cool walls of her home and venture out into the Tatooine vista, and Metarie did not follow. She sensed her Master needed that time to herself, time to revitalize and ready herself for another day of teaching her young charge.