Author's notes
So, firstly, I would like to say that I am not as much of a Star Wars nerd as I would like to be, and there are probably some inaccuracies within the story. Please point them out to me, and drop a PM or review.
I know that I am not much of a writer, but I enjoy the process, so that's what matters, right? I don't plan my stories in the slightest, and I have no more idea where this is going than you do. So similarly, if anyone has any great ideas to that effect, drop me a review or PM. I wrote a 60,000 word story on that principle, and I'm told it worked okay.
Finally, I hope you enjoy, and may the Force be with you all.
A lightsaber, even the ones used for training, made a very distinct noise when they made contact with a living being.
It started with a high pitched crackle, as the clothing over the target area burned away in a flicker of a second, thin wisps of flame spreading from the impact site along the rest of the fabric, followed by ripples of charring.
Then there was the low hiss, as superheated plasma met flesh, as skin boiled, as energy met solid substance.
After, for the briefest of moments, there was silence.
But then, the screaming began.
"Ow, you gravel maggot, Varga!" Titus Mapa screamed, his voice echoing through the training hall. "That's going to leave a mark!"
The hall was brightly lit by the sun streaming in the crystal windows, about thirty meters above on the high ceiling, glinting faintly on the marble stones of the smooth floor, intermixed with the reflected glow of the thirty odd lightsabers, and the occasional flash of sparks as the combatants parried and deflected.
Marcus Varga tried to dismiss the vindictive thrill of harming another living being, and was moderately successful, his face expressionless by the time he deactivated his blue lightsaber with a quiet hiss, clipped it onto the simple fabric belt that rang his dark blue tunic, and removed the thick burlap hood from over his face.
"Oh I'm sorry, Titus." Marcus said, a smile cracking the edges of his mouth. "I didn't see you there."
Titus yanked off his own hood, glancing down at the two centimeter wide smoking gash on the arm of his tunic, and the purpling flesh beneath.
"Fuck you." Titis retorted hotly, shooting a rude hand gesture in his direction.
"Language, Mapa." Master Cenvax said, a disapproving frown on his face, as he passed by, not glancing at the pair of them for more than a second. "I have a bag of sand that needs sorting. So kind of a young Jedi in training like you to volunteer to accompany me tonight."
Titus's face fell, and several of the other pairs of practicing combatants fought a little harder, finding it far safer to be occupied when Master Cenvax passed. His disciplinary actions were the stuff of legends in the Temple, bordering on the unusual. Students that attracted too much negative attention quickly found themselves using the Force to pick grass in the gardens, transfer specific amounts of water from one glass to another, or in this case, levitate specks of sand from a cloth bag, and sort them by color.
"Yeah, very funny." Titus snapped, his pale orange lightsaber blazing to life in his hand, as he took up an offensive stance, holding the blade parallel to the floor, pointed toward Marcus. "Now let's go again, without the blindfold."
Marcus took a moment to glance around the hall, his eyes adjusting to the bright light, after an hour under the blinding hood.
About fifteen pairs of the initiates were training, ranging in age from ten to eighteen, from the clumsy sweeps of the younger boys and girls, using light wood staves, rather than training sabers, to the blinding, sparking dance of the older ones, who made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in finesse.
He ducked just in time to avoid Titus's swing, the orange blade passing close enough overhead that he could feel the heat on his scalp. Titus stepped forward, using his momentum to angle the blade downward in an overhand stroke, slamming it into the marble floor as Marcus pushed off with his feet, rolling backward out of the way, rising to his feet in a graceful leap, drawing his own saber, activating it in a blaze of blue, and bringing it around in a swatting arc, knocking the incoming thrust out of the way and pressing his attack, the familiar crackle and sparking of contacting lightsabers filling the air, the mechanics of ripostes and lunges and sweeps erasing conscious thought.
"Oh, cheer up, Titus." Cora said, giving Titus a shove on the shoulder, careful to avoid the fresh bandage on his upper arm. "I had to do the sand thing with Master Cenvax a few weeks ago, it wasn't that bad."
Cora Mindar was sixteen years of age, with a long, silky black ponytail that fell down between her shoulder blades, flawless pink skin, and a tunic that was a tad bit too tight.
Marcus had grown up with her, had known her for his entire life in the Jedi Temple, but that didn't affect the warm, floating sensation in his chest one bit, as her emerald green eyes met his over the table.
"Tell him, Marcus." She chided, as she turned her attention to her food, and sinking her teeth into a ripe purple fruit.
"I've never done the sand thing." Marcus admitted. "But he made me do the thing with the cups of water once, where you have to transfer it from one to the other, but unless you get the amount exactly right, you have to start over."
"What are you talking about?" Cora asked, after swallowing, her eyebrows coming together.
"Nevermind." Marcus muttered, chuckling. "Suffice it to say that it's going to be awful."
"Oh you're nice." Titus muttered darkly. "See if I help you with your classwork."
"Oh, quit being all broody." Cora soothed, laying a hand on Titus's shoulder. "I'll probably still be up when you get done. We can go up to the overlook, watch the ships go by at night, or go for a walk by the fountains."
Marcus had grown up with Cora and Titus, but that didn't affect the cold hand that seemed to grip his heart as he watched her put a hand on his shoulder, in that carefree, casual way, as he thought of the two of them alone near a quietly bubbling fountain, and she-
"Are you okay?" Titus asked, giving Marcus a concerned look. "You know I was kidding about the classwork thing, right?"
"Yeah, I was just thinking about... advanced principles of thermodynamics and hyperspace travel." Marcus fumbled.
"Oh, so that's why it looked like you were trying to pull a tree out of the ground with the Force." Titus chortled.
Cora giggled noisily, and despite the trickle of anger in his heart, Marcus found himself unable not to smile as he watched her laughing, and pretended for one glorious moment that she was laughing at something he said, that she was going to wait for him at the overlook later, to watch the starships float gracefully by, as the ever present lights of the city glimmered in the distance.
He would have sorted all the sand in the galaxy for that.